How Did I Get Here?Sýnishorn

There are a multitude of ways we can drift in our hearts and minds. When we can choose to go down the what if road. You know the one. It’s a fork in the road that none of us want to take, but when it starts talking, it’s all we can do not to go left when we really want to go right. It happens with every decision. With every challenge. With every setback. With every crisis we never saw coming.

Over the years, I’ve learned that one of the signs I might be walking away from trust and moving over into fear is when all the what if questions start coming. Each time, I know right then and there, I can run with them and start drifting, or stop them by dropping—and setting—anchor and trusting God once more. I feel sure you know exactly what I’m talking about…when our minds just go there.

When our thinking starts to be irrational; when our thoughts start dragging us down a road where we never wanted to go; when we feel helpless to stop the unraveling that ensues; we’re not trusting God in the present moment, because in our heads we’re playing out a future moment. And if we’re not careful, we can go from peace to panic, from wonder to worry, from stewarding to squandering, from preparation to winging it, from trust to terrified in mere minutes. It’s so easy, when the what ifs start, to not only drift in our thinking, but in everything our thinking affects—our decision-making, our sound judgment, our responses, our beliefs, our emotions, our perspectives. Even our physical bodies.

I’ve experienced this kind of helplessness before, in that season when I wasn’t sure I wanted to keep going. I had given up and gotten up after one of those nights where I couldn’t sleep, and I started reliving the past, which only led me to think of all the what ifs. Before I knew it, I was drifting, and my heart was racing so fast I couldn’t catch it.

Soon, my body started shaking from head to toe. And I couldn’t stop it. No matter how hard I tried. No matter how much I concentrated—or tried to concentrate. It was no use. It was as though my body had grown a mind of its own. I wanted it to do one thing, but it had decided to do another. When I called out for Nick, my teeth were chattering as though I were freezing, and my voice sounded barely above a whisper to my ears. Still, he was there in a flash, and he held onto me until I stopped shaking. To this day, I’m not sure how long that was, but I do remember his voice. And what he said. Over and over. “I got you.”

Isn’t that what God is always saying to us? In one way or another? He’s promised us, “I will never leave you nor forsake you,” (Deuteronomy 31:6) and God keeps his promises. Still, why is it sometimes easier to give in to our what ifs than to lean into him? He even promises to keep us in perfect peace if we’ll just trust him and keep our minds steadfastly fixed on him. And yet, our tendency is to drift.