A few days ago, I came across a post on Facebook in which a mother described the experience of hearing her infant—safe and comfortable in his crib—crying for food. She, preparing his bottle in the kitchen, knew she was about to bring her child exactly what he needed; the baby, though, had no idea what was coming. This mother came to the realization that in relationship with God, we are often the crying infant—safe and loved, but unable to see God’s hand at work, preparing exactly the gifts we need and long for.

What a beautiful and frustrating metaphor.

Over the past year or so, I have spent a significant portion of my time in prayer contemplating this idea of trust. It’s not a hard concept—the Lord has a plan for me and will guide me on the right path, so long as I trust in His will and follow His call. And yet, I find this so difficult to practice. Maybe it’s because God’s will is intangible and completely out of my hands; maybe it’s because I’m a planner who always likes to know what’s happening next; maybe it’s because a sense of control is comforting. Regardless, I often find myself praying (begging, even) for answers and explanations. I’d love to just sit God down over a cup of tea and ask Him all my questions—why have things happened the way they did? What comes next in my life? How does He want me to use my gifts in the service of others?

That, though, would defeat the point. Demanding answers is the opposite of trust.  

Trust is a fragile thing; it can take years to build and mere seconds to break. It’s like a glass jar, Brené Brown says, to which we add marbles. Small actions add up—one by one, the marbles fill the jar and our trust in another person grows. Breaking the jar happens much more quickly; one careless or calculated hit and the delicate system shatters.

from her book, Daring Greatly

Perhaps, though, cultivating trust in God is different than building it with someone on earth. If God—perfect Love—is holding the jar, it will never fall. He will never abandon me, and nothing I do will ever push Him away. Also, God’s supply of marbles is endless. He wants me to draw near, to be in relationship with Him, to trust in His goodness. God is always placing little moments of grace throughout my life—it’s up to me to recognize these divine marbles and choose to fill the glass.

It seems that in the moments when I feel alone or find myself questioning God’s presence, God sends me extra gifts of grace, gentle reminders that He’s always with me. Often these moments are small and subtle—the sudden warmth of the sunshine on my skin as it breaks through the clouds, or a tender breeze dancing through the leaves. Other times, God’s grace is so obvious that all I can do is laugh and say thank you—like when I saw a play in Dublin last weekend and it just so happened that my favorite college acting professor (who lives in the U.S.) was sitting three rows behind me. (Seriously. What are the odds?)

Siiri and I after the show. I’m still not sure this was real?

Hindsight is 20/20, they say. It’s so much easier to see the hand of God at work when I look backwards on my life; it’s nearly impossible to identify how He’s working right now, or what the purpose of a given event will be. It’s important for me to remember, though, that in 22 years God has never let me down. Even when I think He has, I’m always, always wrong. The marble jar has never been broken. As frustrating as it can be, sometimes an unanswered prayer is the answer—like the mother preparing her child’s bottle, God might be saying, “Have patience, I’m still at work.

I still struggle to trust that all will be well. Little by little, though, I’m learning how to let go of the need to know and simply rest in God’s love.  

I’ll leave you with a prayer written by Saint John Henry Newman—I came across these words two days before his canonization last week, and they struck a chord in my heart. Another divine marble, if you will.

“God has created me to do Him some definite service;
God has committed some work to me which He has not committed to another.
I have my mission– I may never know it in this life, but I shall be told it in the next. I am a link in a chain, a bond of connection between persons.

God has not created me for naught.
I shall do good. I shall do God’s work.
I shall be an angel of peace, a preacher of truth in my own place.
Whatever, wherever I am,
I can never be thrown away.

If I am in sickness, let my sickness serve the Lord;
in perplexity, let my perplexity serve the Lord;
if I am in sorrow, my sorrow may serve the Lord.

God does nothing in vain.
Therefore, I will trust in the Lord.”

Saint John Henry Newman
a breathtaking marble at Kylemore…
…and a simple marble at Ballyvaloo