In whom do I trust?

St. Patrick's cathedral in New York is directly across from Rockefeller Center, and at the entrance to Rockefeller Center is the great sculpture of Atlas holding up the world.  On Good Friday, the doors of the cathedral are opened, and you can see the cross from the street.  Turn in one direction, and there is the mythical Atlas holding up the world; turn in the other, and there is the One broken by the world.  Which image speaks the truth?  Is the world upheld by our godlike strength or by the crucified love of God?  Upon that decision everything, simply everything, turns. - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon


I'm often reminded of how often my "trusting God" is really "trusting Tom to make best use of the gifts God has provided."  These two are not nearly the same thing.  The latter is really me playing Atlas, trying to hold up my world by my strength.  Oh, please don't think I'm suggesting that I shouldn't try to make the best use of God's gifts.  But it seems to me that there is a difference between doing so and putting my trust in my ability to do so.

It's very much like the difference between having an abundance of material blessings and putting my trust in those blessings.  If I invest too much of my trust in the roof over my head, then when that structure is threatened in some way I am likely to make the wrong choice about what to do about it.  But if my trust is in God's providence, I know that I will always have someplace to lay my head.  This is why, during the Feast of Booths, the Jewish people were to sleep without an enclosed roof, so that they would be reminded that it is God who provides their security.  With that focus, I can consider what to do about any peril to my residence based on what I believe God would have me do, not on saving my abode at all costs.  (There are, of course, too many more implications to this to mention, but an important one is how I respond to others in need.)

If I am holding up my own world, then when that world begins to crumble on me, I focus my effort on how I can hold things together.  Then I'm more likely to make decisions that aren't in keeping with the person I am called to be.  My security is threatened, and I must defend it.  But if my security is Christ Jesus - well, depending on how you look at it, it either can never be threatened or has already been as crushed as it (he) could ever be!  I need not fear any circumstance.  I need not make a decision that seems "necessary" or "pragmatic" but is in fact a compromise of my person.

So I'm sure I'm not alone in needing to ask myself from time to time: Who's holding up my world?