Trust the Process

“Wait just a second…you’re telling me we have to climb up this waterfall just by holding hands with a bunch of strangers? No ropes or harnesses or anything?”

It was day three of our honeymoon, and I was standing at the base of an awe-inspiring waterfall in Jamaica. My new husband cupped my fear-stricken face with his hands and reassuringly said, “Yep! It’s going to be awesome! I’m sure this wouldn’t be a thing if people died from it.”

I wasn’t so sure.

I hung on every word the instructor told our group, frantically memorizing any tips and warnings that could potentially save my life. Before I knew it, we were lined up, linking hands to form a human chain as we started making our way towards the rocks at the base of the waterfall.

I’m not typically a fear-driven person—I love roller coasters and have been skydiving. But for this hand in hand up a waterfall, my logical brain could not accept that the arms in front were up to the task of holding the people behind them. I pushed on though, not wanting to dampen the first week of being married to a man who is up for any adventure, any time. I found my footing during those first few minutes of the climb, comforted by the fact that my six-foot-three husband was in front of me and the woman behind me that I was supporting was about my size.

I had managed to stifle my fear for a while. But it reared its monstrous head as the incline increased along with the rushing water at my feet. Although I could count on the strength of my husband to keep me from stumbling, the person in front of Chris was a girl that couldn’t have been much more than 100 pounds. How was that supposed to work if he loses his footing?

The rest of the climb was a blur—praying each foot to a safe and secure hold, attempting to dim the overwhelming warning lights in my brain, and the relentless thought of what a shame it would be to go cascading down this waterfall and not get to enjoy the rest of my honeymoon. As terrified as I was, I started to realize something. The constant barrage of worst-case scenarios flashing through my head began to subside as each step up in elevation suggested that this human chain thing might actually work. Instead of wrestling internally, trying to cling to whatever tiny bit of control I had over what happened around me, I began to trust the process instead of fighting it.

Eventually, I realized my feet were on level ground. I looked up, saw the look of glee on my husband’s face, and turned to see what he was looking at. There at the top, the stunning view, and the magnitude of what we just accomplished was overwhelming. We had actually made it.

A few years later, it wasn’t a waterfall I was climbing that made me question everything and challenge the illusion of control I held so tightly; it was my failing marriage. In the worst season of my life, I felt like I was right back on that waterfall. I was overwhelmed by the journey ahead of me. I couldn’t fathom making it through alive, or at the very least without devastating injury. I didn’t want to depend on other people–I wanted to do it on my own so I could feel in control of what was happening.

It wasn’t until I was faced with something I couldn’t control no matter how hard I tried that I realized how much of my security was rooted in my own self-sufficiency. My independence. My ability to make things happen in the way I thought was best.

I always thought I knew best.

I did everything I knew to do to fix my marriage. I said everything I thought would put it back together again. And all of that striving to traverse the relentless rushing water left me stuck at the bottom, making no progress no matter how hard I tried. I was so, so tired. Something had to change.

Then I was reminded of the life verse my dad had instilled in me when I was a little girl: Proverbs 3:5–6. Each phrase floored me as I compared it to where I was in my walk with God at the time.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart… Was I truly trusting him through this? I said it in my prayers, but my actions sure didn’t seem to line up.

And lean not on your own understanding… How much time did I spend trying to figure out the next best step to change what was happening, weighing the pros and cons of what I thought was best?

In all your ways submit to Him… Was I actually inviting Him into the mess or just asking for His blessing after I already decided on my next step?

And He will make your paths straight… Did I really believe this? Could I even hear His direction over the constant dialogue happening in my mind?

After wrestling with what God was trying to show me through that verse and several others for the next few months, I knew what He was asking me to do: I had to let go and trust Him. Trust Him with this thing that looked impossible to traverse. Believe that He could carry me through to the other side. Have faith in His promise to not waste the in-between.

One step at a time, each act of surrender was one foothold closer to the top of the seemingly impossible climb.

Just like on that waterfall, I had to let go of trying to control my situation and instead trust the process. And you know what? That’s where I found His peace, His rest, and His joy right there in the middle of the hardest season of my life. That’s where I experienced an intimacy with the Lord that I had never felt before and wouldn’t trade for the world.

My fear didn’t instantly go away when I began to trust the chain of people pulling me up the waterfall. In the same way, my pain didn’t instantly go away when I decided to trust God with it. But the difference was that I was able to see how God was using that season to draw me closer to Himself—to experience what it felt like to fully give it over to Him to carry for me (Psalm 55:22).

Looking down from the top of that waterfall showed me what all the struggle was for, and now—a restored marriage and two kids later—I can look back and see His faithfulness and purpose in each and every excruciating step of the journey. And every single bit of it was worth it.

Letting go and trusting God with the different areas of my life is an ongoing battle; this walk of dependence on Him is what my soul desires, yet my flesh fights against. My prayer for myself and for you is that we would be reminded often of the beauty and freedom that comes with surrender. Whether that’s when we’re faced with a health crisis, when our kids enter a season of needing us less and less, or as the world seems to spin more and more out of control, He is calling us to deeper dependence on Him and trust in His sovereignty.

–Written by Stephanie Teague. Used by permission from the author.