Trust...a reflection

Everybody desperately desires to be trusted. The newly licensed driver wants her parents to trust her on the road with the car. A man wants his girlfriend to know that she can trust him while she is gone for a month. I wish to be a friend that people can share anything with, while still feeling safe and secure. The list goes on and on. We all, deep inside, desire trust.

On the other side of the spectrum, trust is very cautiously handed out. Most families, except the Woodworths, lock their doors at night. In Colombia, we sleep in a guest house that is secured by 4 different locked doors and gates. We put up walls, borders, and checkpoints to screen people before letting them close to us. Honestly, I walk down the streets of Medellín, and think every single person is planning to kidnap me, steal all of my stuff, and leave me for dead. Without even saying hello, we count people out.

The foundation of trust is respect. Colombia is a very interesting place to see this play out. On one hand, the people here are incredibly hospitable, way more then I have ever experienced. It is impossible to walk into somebodys home, and not be offered the best chair to sit in, as well as a drink and some food. Old ladys will make way for some punk, sweaty, gringo teenagers to sit on their clean furniture, and they will do it over and over again with a smile on their face. We will be on the Metro, and see young people giving up their seats for their elders. I have mad respect for this. On the other hand, Colombia is a place, like most places, lacking respect. As I was standing in the middle of a busy intersection last night, dodging motos, buses, and taxis, and seeing my life flash before my eyes, I had zero respect for anyone. The streets are crazy here. It is literally every man for himself. We all know the history of Colombia with drugs and violence, this has caused there to be giant gaps in respect and trust for so many people and places. We know which neighborhoods to stay out of, and which streets not to walk down. When we smell the drugs, we get out of there fast. It is incredible how conscientious we need to be about where are bags our at all times. For two minutes, I put down Hayden and Michelle's camera, and it was stolen. This place lacks respect, therefore trust.

We find this gap of lost respect and trust not only in Colombia, but in so many different avenues.   It may be on a team, at a workplace, within a family, or in a church, it happens everywhere. Why is this? Because we are human, and we continually fall short. Everyone, myself included, will fall short. Selfishness and pride really do exist and find their way into relationships, hoping to kill and destroy. And sometimes they do.

But, there is hope. Isaiah 26:4, "Trust in the LORD forever, for the LORD, the LORD himself, is the Rock eternal." We have a God who will never fall short. Unlike the relationships of this world, we have one Friend who will never lie to us, never let us down, will always be there, whatever the circumstance, and however great the task. I have been really encouraged by Isaiah 40:28 as well which reads, "Have you not known? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable." As much as I fall short time and time again, God never gets tired of being there for me. His Grace is freely lavished on me, despite me. Oh, may my trust in Him and His plan be unending.


My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness;
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly lean on Jesus’ name.

When darkness veils His lovely face,
I rest on His unchanging grace;
In every high and stormy gale,
My anchor holds within the veil.

His oath, His covenant, His blood
Support me in the whelming flood;
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my hope and stay.

When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh, may I then in Him be found;
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.

Refrain:
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand,
All other ground is sinking sand.

—Edward Mote (1797-1874)

Tienes un Amigo,
Jack