
23 Search me, God, and know my heart;
Put me to the test and know my anxious thoughts;
24 And see if there is any hurtful way in me,
And lead me in the everlasting way.
-Psalm 139:23-24 NASB
I would consider myself to be a fairly docile passenger when my husband is at the wheel. I try really hard not to be a backseat driver. Now, just for the record, my husband is an excellent driver (bless his heart). However, every once in a while, my life will flash before my eyes and I’ll shove my foot into my imaginary brake pedal, or my left hand will involuntarily thwap him on the chest in a futile attempt to assume control of a seemingly threatening situation.
Ah Control… Control and I have coexisted quite well together. She’s not an ugly sort of problem – she’s definitely cute and socially acceptable enough to fly under the radar. From time to time, she gets a little loud so I casually and quietly grab the chloroform and shove her down a teeny tiny bit deeper. This comfy defense mechanism has ended up becoming an ornamental barnacle on the wall of my subconscious that, for the most part, has gone unsupervised for the majority of my life.
Enter, Jesus.
That guy doesn’t let me get away with anything. Recently, I was encouraged to ask Him a question that I wasn’t entirely prepared to hear an answer for. I asked Him:
Where am I at, Lord?
(aka “Search me, God, and know my heart; put me to the test and know my anxious thoughts; and see if there is any hurtful way in me, and lead me in the everlasting way.”)
As I sat attentively with my eyes shut, I saw a picture of God the Father driving the two of us along a winding road. I wish I could say that I saw us cruising carefree, top down, wind in our hair, shades on, sun shining… No. I saw myself tensely flinching and grasping for the wheel whenever I became nervous about where He was taking us. Despite my inability to trust him, the Father allowed me to grab the wheel any time I wanted. One of the most notable aspects of this revelation was the inexhaustible patience of the Father. He never got angry, even when I veered us off course and the road got bumpy. Clearly, he wasn’t taking it personally, and he wasn’t worried about me messing up our trajectory.
Alright, Lord. I see where I am, but where do you want me?
This time, I saw a picture of me sleeping in the back seat. Ironically, it was the same mental picture I’ve carried with me since childhood of my dad, who died in a car accident while sleeping in the backseat without a seatbelt on.
In that moment, Control got a lot less cute. I had no idea that I have been believing a lie that has subconsciously fueled my desire for control. I’ve been exchanging an illusion for a priceless gift. If I’m honest, there truly is part of me that’s afraid to jump in the back seat and go to sleep – literally and figuratively. Surely if I’m not awake, alert, and ready to intervene, bad things will happen. Surely God cannot be trusted in my rest. I’ve got to do my part, show up, perform well, and do everything I can do to make it go well. No one really has to know that I’m deeply afraid that I’ll fail, or that He will fail me.
I’ve chosen to live a confessional life with the Lord. He doesn’t let me get away with much. Lately, I’ve sensed him highlighting my inner “Chicken Little” moments. I’m learning to take more deep breaths, to prioritize knowing Him so that I can trust Him. I’m learning what it means for me to be a backseat sleeper.
He’s not content without me accessing the full measure of rest that He paid for on the cross. We don’t earn rest, we receive it. God will not let us get by on appetizers for too long without reminding us that there is a whole feast that’s been prepaid and prepared to perfection.
Did you know that your ability to rest in God reveals a lot about your ability to trust in God?
I encourage you today to trust Jesus enough to check-in. Ask Him where you are at. Maybe like me He will reveal to you a deeper realm of rest that you didn’t even know was accessible or allowed. He doesn’t need your help or advice along your journey. All He really needs is your ‘yes’ and your rest.