I removed the old doorbell cover and stared at the three connection posts. The simplicity explained with words in the plastic structure was easy to understand. I had not spent time figuring out how a traditional ringer worked. As I followed the instructions for installing a modern WiFi-based doorbell, I realised that I trusted the process even though the details did not make sense. As I tested the new ring, I wondered how often I trusted the training I was given, even when I did not understand.
When I was young, I trusted the training my parents gave me. I believed unconditionally that they were well intended. I assumed that, in easy times and difficult ones, it was in my best interests. My doubts emerged and grew with age. With very few exceptions, I always found the evidence reaffirmed my belief in their training and care for me. As I enjoyed the memories of this at play, I realised that my trust in training did not extend beyond this relationship.
Training is a way of describing structured learning and growth. It is an opportunity to accelerate awareness and insight, opening new doors to becoming one’s best self. In my experience, the catch is the role trust plays in the process. I often do not realise how easily my lack of trust builds a barrier to insight and change. As I looked at the doorbell, I could hear the writer’s question; “We respect our own parents for training and not spoiling us, so why not embrace God’s training so we can truly live?” (Hebrews 12.9)
Life is using every moment to provide bespoke training and guidance. In my distrust, I cannot and, often, will not listen to my best teacher. In my doubts and fears, I ignore Divinity’s gift of teaching in all her forms. Divinity may be sad even as she continues to be who and what she is. In these moments, I am the one who has lost.
I trusted an old wiring diagram. Today is my chance to trust Divinity. There are no limits.
