Dwell in the shelter of the Most High: On tantrums and trust

It's been quite a while since I have blogged on here, or at least blogged in the real sense instead of just updates and travel bits.  The last six months have had lots of ups and downs and lots of learning, much of it not over.  Sometimes I feel like my inner life is going through so much that I can't make sense of it to write about it.  How do I make sense of lives all around me seeming to shout, this is not how it is supposed to be? So often I am like a small child, petulant in my temper tantrums, demanding my way and demanding it now.  I always feel like in order to blog I need some great answer to the problems, some great revelation that is going to help all of us draw closer to God.

But the truth is, the last 6 months have not brought any startling revelations.  They've brought tears and moments I am not proud of, plenty of times where essentially I have sprawled on the floor like a writhing screaming toddler, mad at God and wondering how in the world it would all ever end.  Wondering if we will ever see an end to the sting of death, the ravages of sin, the loneliness of a broken world. 

In the midst of it, I don't really want people to help me cope, not even God.  I want Him/them to make the situation right, to make the problem go away, or at the very least, to allow me to quit.  This may come as a bit of a surprise, but I seem to have a knack for quitting.  They say that when the going gets tough, the tough get going, and Clare takes a nap. Perseverance is not my strong suit.  If perseverance produces character, I'll pass on the character bit thanks.

This morning I read Psalm 91, which opens with, "Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty" and goes on to say some pretty awesome things.  It's one of my favorite psalms.  But all day I've been stuck on the first verse.  And particularly on the second word: dwell.  I had coffee this week with a friend who is preparing for the transition back to life in the US and we talked about this word, dwell.  For me, dwelling in Thailand means buying things that won't fit in a suitcase, or plants that give a sense of permanence.  But dwelling in the shelter of the Most High? 

The devotional I read right after the psalm was about trust.  About how we only sort of want to trust God-we trust him for some things (like today or eternity) but not others (like tomorrow and practical things).  I think to an extent we know that trusting him does not mean that we're going to win the tantrum and get what we want.  Trusting him doesn't buy us control over our lives.  But I think dwelling in his shelter and trusting him can look awfully similar.  It's not any great revelation, and I'm not even exactly sure how it looks played out in everyday lives, but it does help me know that that abiding and rest are possible. 

I still want my way, of course, but it helps put into perspective an idea that I read about a few months ago, living for God's Big Kingdom and its purposes instead of our own little kingdoms with all the little things we're trying to control.  Trusting God's purposes for our own lives, but also for the lives of those we love.  So I try to release the fist, so tightly closed around the things I want to control, and I realize just how tired that fist is.  It's exhausting, and so much easier to let go.  I don't think I'm going to be very good at it, but I need to try. I need to work on figuring out how to trust, how to dwell in the shelter of the Most High, because I do know this: there is no safer place for me to be.