Jesus, I Trust in You

Perhaps it’s good that this week is dedicated to pleading for the Divine Mercy, making a novena of the prayers shown to us by St. Faustina. In my kitchen hangs a picture of Jesus, known as the Divine Mercy picture, with the rays of grace coming from His heart. The prayer “Jesus, I Trust in You” is written across the bottom. I don’t pray it often enough, nor, as I’ve reflected this week, really don’t understand it fully. It’s too simple, and I guess I’ve been so too.

This past year has been one filled with life’s usual ups and downs, joys and trials, but nothing too elating nor nothing so troublesome that I couldn’t handle it, although I very often needed (not remembered or want to, but needed) to pray the Divine Mercy prayer in the end. And life went on --- and, perhaps, I grew complacent.

“Lord, help me to remember that nothing is going to happen to me today, that you and I together can’t handle,” reads another prayer on my family room wall. I’ve prayed that one on occasion this past year also, but like the Divine Mercy prayer, I prayed without looking at it, and without really thinking about it. I guess it’s good to reflexively call on Jesus throughout your day, and I do, but I think I’ve grown accustomed to His answering. I’ve forgotten that part of the prayer in which it says: “and I”. I’m afraid I’ve grown complacent with His ready help, expecting Him to respond to my requests promptly, like a servant, not a friend, and certainly not like a God.

So I’ve been surprised of late, and feel unexpectedly put upon: some things which ran so smoothly --- even miraculously --- are now running into unexpected difficulty. And no answer to my prayers seems forthcoming, but answers are still required, and work must be done, work, by me, for no one comes to my rescue, and for some reason that surprises me. Long hours, and long days, and there seems not enough of either. People are depending on me; I’ve made promises to them; I’ve made commitments, and they seem increasingly difficult to achieve.

“Lord, I didn’t expect this. When I committed to do these things, these good things, I knew I couldn’t do them alone. I trusted You would be there to help me, but now I seem alone. I didn’t expect that." And I’m led to question both myself and God: “Is this Your will, or mine? What would You have me do, Lord? My Jesus, I trust in You!”

There is a meditation I consider when praying the Sorrowful Mysteries. It’s words Jesus might have said: “Father, I believe in you. But you are quiet.” I feel those words now, but perhaps I focus too much on the last two thoughts they contain, and not the first. “I believe in You” and “You are quiet” are things I think about, but what about: “Father?” What about all that word implies?

What is my Father thinking as he watches me struggle? Is He proud of my persistence? Is He troubled at my doubts? Will He catch me if I fail? How do I really feel about Him?

What do I really believe, when times are difficult, and He is quiet? Do I really trust, as I trust a father?