I laid awake under the light blanket, the sharp scent of marsh and salt and sea wafting through the open window. The house slept, blinds whirring in the light breeze like a buzzing bee, shadows from the streetlamp sashaying across the walls and ceiling. And in that quiet moment, two simple words dropped into my mind, boldly, confidently.
I’m not one to look for or even put much validity in signs. I’m a realist to the core, which means my default is skepticism, doubt. When people tell me they’ve heard from God or received a sign from him, I don’t doubt it’s true — for them. But I don’t ever expect God will speak so obviously and clearly to me.
Yet in that moment as the shadows skittered and the moist sea air scented the room, I knew this much for sure: those two words I heard ping into my head near midnight in a rented beach house? Those two words were straight from God. I knew this like I know my own name.
He spoke two words to me as clearly as any words I’ve ever heard out loud.
Trust me, he said.
This summer I spent July and August waiting to hear from my publisher about a new book proposal. The process moved slowly, from editor to editorial board to publishing committee. I was impatient for an answer. That night, as I lay awake in our vacation rental, I assumed God was addressing that waiting period. I figured he was saying, “Trust Me in this process, with this proposal.”
That night I had God all figured out.
And I was wrong.
God wasn’t talking about those summer months, that time during which my book proposal was being considered by my publisher. No, God was referring to now. This time. This wilderness — the period of uncertainty after the publisher said no. The period during which I can’t possibly see around the next bend. This season in which, for the first time in years, the future is frightfully unclear. God said Trust Me for this time. For now.
On that sultry July night in Rhode Island God saw the wilderness season that was coming. And so he gave me those two simple but powerful words, knowing I would remember them and remember the night he spoke them to me so clearly.
Strangely, most days I am trusting him. And for a girl who has always had her ducks in a row, her path clearly marked, her route determined ahead of time, the fact that I am trusting God in this season of uncertainty is nothing short of a miracle.
True, some days I falter. Some days I whine and demand an answer and fret late into the night. Some days I succumb to that panicky urge to “do something,” to do anything that might fix this situation, eradicate the uncertainty, set a clear path. On those hard days, I remember the words God gave me in July. And I repeat them under my breath like a mantra. Trust me. Trust me. Trust me.
Most days, though, miraculously, I am doing just as he said. I am waiting, abiding, with bold and hopeful confidence. I am keeping my eyes open and my ears tuned in eager expectation of the new thing he is about to do. Is doing.
Trust me, he said.
I will, I answered.