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The Trust Game

trust gameHave you ever played the trust game? Where someone demonstrates trust in his or her fellows by falling backward into the waiting arms of a team of people set to catch her or him?

Blind fall.
Big risk.
No guarantee.
Complete confidence.


Whom do you trust like that?

I just played a new trust game. One partner keeps eyes closed, while the other partner leads him or her (only with words, no touching) through a crowded room, out a narrow doorway, down a crowded hall – with other people, both sighted and not-sighted, playing this game – around a bend, down another hall and into a crowded public space. On arrival, turn around and return.

Guiding, without sight. Only by faith. Faith in me. That no harm would come to her.

I am cautious, waiting for the way to clear, while talking her through the steps we will take to reach our destination. Introducing myself – did I mention that we had never met each other before? – I assure her that her safety is my utmost goal. But we will achieve our objective.

We begin. I go before her, my back to the traffic, my face to her. At first, I give instructions: turn this way, 2 steps that way, stop. But when I watch her face I see her comfort. She has placed her confidence in me, her complete trust in me. I will talk her through this.

Come toward my voice.
I will stay in front of you.
No harm will come to you.
I will clear your way.

We enter the lighted hallway through the open door of the classroom and her face beams. She pauses without moving. “That’s amazing,” she says, “I know I am in the light, even though my eyes are closed.”

I smile, but she doesn’t see it. She is waiting and listening, blind to the traffic, the congestion of people, and to the chaos of others navigating the hallway. She trusts. Fully.

So simple. Listen to My voice.

“I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me— just as the Father knows me and I know the Father—and I lay down my life for the sheep. I have other sheep that are not of this sheep pen. I must bring them also. They too will listen to my voice, and there shall be one flock and one shepherd. ~ John 10:14-16

If we show them the level path, they’ll have what they need for the climb

“Start children off on the way they should go, and even when they are old they will not turn from it.” ~ Proverbs 22:6

I think something may be getting lost in the translation, here. Everywhere I look, I see parents starting their children off, holding their hand, walking with them, lugging their backpacks, bringing them water…harmless things. Helpful things.

That somehow turn into… must practice, must be at every game, must train, must compete, must enter tournaments, must “be seen by college coaches,”… There’s a dedication and discipline parents want to inspire. They dearly want to start them off on the right way.

But we’re reluctant to let go so they can find it. We get so caught up in the “way they should go” that they turn from it, just to spite us. It’s ‘our should’ not theirs and they say so.

Or they don’t. And maybe that’s worse. When they feel the weight of unspoken expectation invested in them and try to live up to it. Knowing, full well, they don’t have it in them. But seeking to please. Clamoring for praise. Daring not disappoint.

This way becomes covered in brambles. The ascent becomes steep. Footing precarious. Gravel gives way and they fall. Tumbling down. The higher they’ve climbed and the more mountainous the region, the more they are scraped and bruised and broken on the way down.

“Be pleasing!  seek praise! don’t disappoint!” echoes. They scramble to their feet, desperately searching for the trail head. Where is the path? Quickly, I must find it. I am falling behind, others are moving ahead! Must find the way I should go. Mom and Dad told me. Others encouraged me. Can’t let them down.

How many of our children are trapped in this place?

I expect the only safe excursion for parent and child is along the flat. Weaving in and out, following the paved way, learning where the edge is and which direction is forward. The pace? As long as it takes for small feet and little legs or great big sneakers and long limbs to make it their own. Their own pace. Their own swing. Their own shot. Their own path.

We, need only shout encouragement when they choose well. “That’s the way!” And to re-direct when they choose poorly.

The way up the mountain of God is narrow, the ledges best navigated single file. But at each turn there is a broad place, where God says, “Rest here a while. Eat if you’re hungry. Drink if you’re thirsty. Prepare for what’s ahead.” He knows it already. Walked the path. Chose it for us.

When we see it we know it is ours. Meant especially for us. Not simple to climb, but easy to choose. And climb we do, putting one foot in front of the other. Same step, different terrain.

No wonder we celebrate when baby takes his first step.


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