Can God Be Trusted? [melanie]

God’s plans are not our own. I mean not even slightly our own. But He knows what He’s doing, right? And it is good. It has to be. He’s God. Right?

If it sounds like I am trying to convince myself of this truth, it’s because I am. Once again I find myself in a situation out of my control. Once again my faith in God’s trustworthiness is tested. This time it’s a long-broken relationship on the verge of either being redeemed, or causing further pain. Which way will it go, and how do I hope for redemption and healing while protecting myself from the potential of exacerbated wounds?

The eternal question has come up once again. Can God really be trusted? Can He really redeem what’s broken, or is that just wishful thinking? Voices from the world are shouting, “People don’t change.” Are they right?

Fortunately, God has taken me down this road before. And He is eager to remind me of a personal story of restoration that I did not believe was possible until I walked through it with my own two feet, one fearful step at a time.

That story involved a relationship too—my relationship with my dad. For years I tried my best to play the game that things between us were fine, but in reality I was scared to be alone with him. He was an alcoholic, and though he could be tender and compassionate, he also had a volatile side. I never knew what would trigger his anger, so I did what I’d learned to do, tiptoe around and avoid any conversations that had the slightest chance of setting him off.

I had a long list of wrongs I felt I’d suffered as a result of the two divorces (my parents divorced, remarried each other, and divorced again), his alcoholism, and his overall lack of responsibility. I didn’t consider discussing any of these wounds with him. I had learned from experience what his response would have been (an alcoholic’s middle name is denial), and I saw no point to it. So I continued in my tiptoe pattern, with the ever-gracious smile and the silent prayers that I would not step on a land mine.

What I most regret now that I know how far God was willing to go for us, was never praying for our relationship to be redeemed. I never once asked God to heal it. I made no attempt at restoration, or even envisioning the possibility of it. What was the point? Dad was not going to change. Long-ingrained habits and patterns don’t go away. Or so I reasoned. It turns out my short-sighted thinking could not have been more wrong. God had a plan of action that no one could have imagined.

Dad ended up with advanced cirrhosis of the liver at age 62. When he was given six months to live and admitted to hospice, things became too much for my stepmother to handle alone. Being Dad’s only child, I quickly saw that the best (only?) solution was for me move out of state to live with him for the duration and to help out as best I could.

It was uncomfortable at best. Beyond challenging is probably more accurate. Overnight I, along with my stepmother, became Dad’s primary caregiver. It was still difficult for me to be alone with him, but not for the same reasons as before. Suddenly things between us were incredibly different. Dad was too weak, and often not lucid enough to maintain his prior emotional and behavioral patterns. In the process of learning to care for him, I found myself moving from my role as fearful child to one of responsible parent. There was no longer a reason for me to be intimidated by my dad, or fearful of his anger. That Dad, the one I’d known my entire life, dissolved in his weakness.

It was all so gradual, and I was so immersed in chaos, that I didn’t recognize for a while what God was doing. I now helped dress, wash, cook for, and feed the father I’d long feared. Initially I was still very angry with him, blaming him for the position I was now in as well as all that had gone before, but slowly, very slowly, compassion became the more prominent emotion. The bitterness and resentment I’d long held began to fade. It would eventually dissipate altogether.

To the surprise of everyone, Dad gradually began to get a little better. Nine months after entering hospice care, he was discharged to seek more aggressive medical treatment. As he continued to improve month after month, a renewed personality began to immerge. My previously volatile Dad regained his strength, but not his anger. We began to see one another in an entirely new way, and as he became healthy I realized that our relationship in no way resembled what it had been before he’d gotten ill. He was now gentle and I was now strong. Bitterness was replaced with genuine love and respect.

Two years later, Dad was well enough that my presence was no longer necessary, and I returned to my previous life. I left behind a new Dad. Not only had he healed physically and emotionally, he’d also given his life to Christ and become active in a local church. Our relationship had been restored. The fairy tale ending was fact.

Time passed and I began to reflect on God’s creative healing methodology. Dad never asked for forgiveness, and I never directly addressed my need to forgive him. It just happened while I wasn’t looking. With the restored relationship came the forgiveness, with the forgiveness came the healing. And the redemption God brought about in my relationship with my father continues today. I’ll visit him this weekend, my New Dad who is now five years old, and I’ll remember.

God uses our stories as Ebenezer stones, solid reminders of His redemptive power and trustworthiness. Today I return to mine as I redouble my efforts to trust God in the broken relationship I now face. God is not predictable, and He works in different ways in each situation. More pain may well come before the relationship is redeemed. But I’ve been reminded in the sweetest of memories that with God all things truly are possible. I will not make the mistake again of failing to pray for answers beyond what I can see or imagine. I know God can be trusted. I know, because He’s proven to me in profound ways, that He is in the business of redemption.