One Way to Look at It: Solid Ground

The other day, our youngest was sitting on my lap, facing me. As we interacted, I shifted my position, which resulted in my legs moving in such a way that she couldn’t quite feel their support anymore. She panicked, grasping my arms tightly, crying out in fear that I might not catch her in time. 
I chuckled, because I knew what she didn’t...that if she let go of my arms and settled back down into my lap, she would have lowered by an inch or two and nothing more. It struck me as comical that she was so frightened, when all she had to do was sit down. But it was behind her, so she couldn’t see, but only felt the open space below her that had previously felt solid.
I tried to pull my arms from her clenched hands, tried to help her find her seat again, but she clung even tighter and continued to cry. Her fear prevented her from realizing that I would not drop her to the floor, prevented her from trusting my hands to guide her safely.
We do that, don’t we? We feel solid and safe, then something shifts, be it ever so slightly, and suddenly we are certain that a free fall awaits us. In our panic, we grab hold of whatever feels secure, screeching for help. We plead with God to help us feel safe again, to feel that the ground is solid beneath us rather than too far away to reach.
I know, sometimes the situation warrants the reaction. But other times, I bet that God chuckles, knowing that our fear is completely unfounded, that we can sit back and find ourselves comfortable again with minimal adjustment in our position. He sometimes gives us a gentle push, encouraging us to sit back and be okay, but we refuse to give in, trusting instead in our desperate handholds. 
I am certain that we are not meant to dangle in a panic from sources of partial security. I am certain we are meant to stand on solid ground. I am also certain that it is only by trusting that we can learn just how close that certainty may be.