the trust course. you immediately got an image in your mind, didn’t you? it’s the team building equivalent of the Olympics or the quickest way to an insurance co-pay:
standing on a chair and falling back into a group of people’s arms;
helping each other over a large wall;
jumping off a utility pole high in the air.
it’s a team of people—who work individually for 40+ hours a week—assembled for a “fun-filled” day of helping each other complete what can only be described as an army basic training obstacle course.
because nothing bonds people like watching someone sprain their ankle while struggling through discarded tires.
and how about leading the blindfolded? that’s probably not the official name, but i’m a pretty basic guy and i just call it what it is.
(when my wife had a CPR business, my suggestion to her for the business name was, “Oh my God, I’m choking.” but i digress.)
in “leading the blindfolded,” one person is blindfolded and is paired with someone who is not. the seeing person instructs the blindfolded through an obstacle course by giving instructions like “turn right,” “duck,” “stop,” etc.
sometimes the person runs into a wall. or a chair. either through the poor directions of the person leading them or the mischievous nature of their guide.
but the amusing thing to watch is when the person is hesitant to trust the guide and ducks, steps over or stops on their own—when there is nothing there. it’s as if there is some invisible object they are trying to avoid.
the blindfolded person is anticipating what they think is going on, instead of trusting their guide to what is actually there.
i live out my day-to-day existence like the blindfolded person. i try to anticipate what is going to happen next.
i duck when i think life is about to hit me in the face.
i turn when something bad might happen.
and every step i take, i anticipate the worst happening.
i’ve walked through the valley of the shadow of death.
i’ve known loss.
but my “expect the worst and you’ll never be disappointed” safeguard makes for a very stressful walk.
i anticipate a fall. a banged up knee. running into a wall.
i believe my guide has good intentions, but i’m just not sure i trust Him completely.
i flinch because i believe i will get hurt.
and there are times in life when i have no choice. i can’t memorize the landscape before i’m blindfolded. i can’t feel my way through the course.
i just have to trust the One who sees ahead.
i have to trust God when life gets dark.
or beyond my control. (even though i know “in my control” is an illusion, and one that i’m comfortable with believing.)
i’m walking through one of those times right now.
every day is a step.
every morning is a new concern.
every night is a new worry.
and there are additional “freak out” moments in between.
i want to dig my heels in and say, “i’m not going anywhere.”
but i have to keep moving.
because i told God i would start running again.
i told Him i wasn’t going to sit on the sidelines anymore.
and that means i have to move.
i have to take a step.
even in the dark.
even when i have no clue where i’m going.
i have to trust.
you can’t create trust.
you can’t decide you’re going to trust.
you just have to actually trust.
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