Trusting Him in the Unknown When Everything in You Wants to Defend Yourself
There are seasons when trusting God means taking a step forward even though we cannot see where He is leading, and then there are seasons when trusting Him looks completely different. Sometimes trust means staying right where we are, resisting the urge to respond, explain, correct, or defend ourselves, and believing that God is still working even when we cannot see what He is doing.
I am learning that sometimes silence requires more faith than speaking ever could.
When someone misunderstands us, misrepresents our intentions, or says things about us that we believe are simply not true, our natural response is to want to set the record straight. We want to explain what really happened, make sure people understand our intentions, and defend our character. We think that if we can just find the right words or explain things one more time, surely, they will understand.
There is certainly a time and place for speaking up. Scripture does not teach us to stay silent in every situation, avoid setting boundaries, ignore wrongdoing, or stop advocating for what is right. But I am also learning that there are times when God asks us to release our need to control the outcome and simply trust Him.
Sometimes His invitation is simply, “Be still. Let Me handle this.”
And if I am being truthful, that can be incredibly hard.
Trusting God When I Don’t Know What Happens Next
I don’t particularly like the unknown. I like to know where things are headed and how they are going to turn out. When something is broken, I want to know it can be repaired. When a relationship is hurting, I want to know there will be reconciliation. When someone misunderstands me, I want to believe that eventually they will understand the truth.
But faith doesn’t always give us those answers.
Instead, faith gives us God.
Proverbs 3:5–6 tells us, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.”
I have read those verses countless times, but they take on an entirely different meaning when I genuinely do not understand what God is doing. It is one thing to tell God that I trust Him when I can see where He is leading. It is another thing entirely to say it when I cannot see the next step, when I don’t know how something will be resolved, and when every instinct in me wants to step in and fix something that I simply cannot fix.
Maybe that is where trust really begins.
Trust isn’t saying, “God, I know how this is going to turn out, and I believe You will give me the ending I want.” Trust is being able to say, “God, I have no idea how this is going to turn out, but I know who You are, and I am choosing to trust You anyway.”
Not Everything Requires a Response
One of the harder lessons God has been teaching me is that not everything that is said about us requires a response.
That is difficult for me because I want people to understand. When I feel misunderstood, my instinct is to explain. I find myself thinking, If I could just tell the whole story. If they understood what happened. If they knew my heart. If I could just explain one more time.
But Jesus gives us such a different example.
Isaiah 53:7 says, “He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth.” Later, when Jesus stood before Pilate and accusations were being made against Him, Matthew tells us that “Jesus made no reply, not even to a single charge—to the great amazement of the governor” (Matthew 27:14).
Jesus wasn’t silent because the accusations were true, and He wasn’t silent because He was too weak to defend Himself. He knew who He was, He knew what was true, and most importantly, He trusted His Father.
There is a part of me that wants to believe that if I don’t defend myself, someone else gets to determine the truth. Yet God has been reminding me that my silence does not change what He knows to be true. I do not have to convince every person of my intentions for God to know my heart.
There comes a point when constantly defending ourselves can consume us. We become so focused on controlling what other people think about us that we miss what God may be trying to do within us.
Sometimes God isn’t asking us to win the argument. He is asking us to trust Him enough to surrender our need to win it. And man is that challenging for me.
Silence Does Not Mean There Is Nothing to Learn
There is another side of this that I don’t want to miss, because trusting God to defend us can very easily become an excuse to assume that we are right and everyone else is wrong.
I don’t want that either.
When conflict comes, I want to have enough humility to ask God, “Is there something here that You want me to see?” Maybe my intentions were good, but my words were not. Maybe I could have responded differently. Maybe there is something I need to apologize for, a place where I need to grow, or something God is revealing in me that I would rather not see.
Trusting God with my reputation does not mean refusing to examine my own heart.
David prayed in Psalm 139:23–24, “Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”
That is the prayer I want to pray in difficult seasons—not “God, prove that I am right,” but “God, show me what is mine to own. Give me the humility to acknowledge where I have been wrong, the wisdom to recognize what is not mine to carry, and the faith to leave the rest with You.”
There is a tremendous difference between refusing responsibility and refusing to carry responsibility that does not belong to us.
When Being Still Feels Like Doing Nothing
One of my favorite verses is Exodus 14:14: “The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”
I can put that verse on pretty signs in my house (and write in on a post it in my car), but the reality is that the circumstances surrounding it were anything but peaceful. The Israelites had the Red Sea in front of them and Pharaoh’s army coming up behind them. From their perspective, there was no good option and no obvious way out.
And that was the moment God told them to be still.
I think sometimes I have imagined being still as this peaceful, serene act of faith, but I am beginning to realize that sometimes being still is incredibly uncomfortable. Being still means resisting the temptation to force an outcome because I am afraid of what will happen if I don’t. It means believing God can work in places I cannot reach and in hearts I cannot change.
Being still doesn’t mean doing nothing. Sometimes it is one of the most active expressions of trust we can offer God.
What If God Doesn’t Fix It Right Away?
This may be the hardest part for me.
Sometimes we surrender something to God while secretly expecting Him to resolve it quickly. We tell Him we trust Him, but somewhere underneath that prayer is the expectation that He will straighten everything out, reveal the truth, restore the relationship, or give us the answer we have been asking for.
But sometimes He doesn’t. At least not right away.
The misunderstanding remains. The relationship is still fractured. The answer doesn’t come. The circumstances don’t change, and we are left sitting in a place we never would have chosen.
Those are the moments when I must remind myself that God’s silence does not mean God’s absence.
So much of Scripture is filled with people who had no idea what God was doing while they were living in the middle of their stories. Joseph couldn’t see the palace from the prison. David couldn’t see the throne while he was hiding from Saul. Esther didn’t know how the king would respond when she walked into his presence. The disciples certainly couldn’t see Sunday while they were standing in the devastation of Friday.
We know how their stories end because we get to read the next chapter. They didn’t. And neither do we.
Maybe that is why trusting God in the unknown requires so much faith for us. We are living in the middle of a story and only God knows what is going to come next.
Choosing Joy When the Story Isn’t Finished
For me, choosing joy has never meant pretending that painful things aren’t painful. It doesn’t mean ignoring wrongdoing, avoiding difficult conversations, or putting a smile on something that is genuinely breaking my heart.
Choosing joy means refusing to allow my circumstances to determine what I believe about the character of God.
I can grieve something and still trust Him. I can be misunderstood and still trust Him. I can desperately want reconciliation while surrendering when and how it happens. I can wish I could change someone’s heart while recognizing that only God can do that. I can admit where I have been wrong without accepting things that aren’t true.
And perhaps most importantly, I can live in the unknown without knowing how the story ends because I know the One who is writing it.
Right now, I am learning a different kind of courage. It is the courage to stop chasing every misunderstanding, to resist the need to correct every accusation, and to trust that God does not need my help controlling the narrative. At the same time, it is the courage to let Him search my own heart and show me where I need to change.
I want to speak when He tells me to speak, apologize when I need to apologize, listen when I need to listen, establish boundaries when they are necessary, and remain silent when continuing to defend myself would only create more noise.
Maybe you find yourself in that kind of season too. Maybe there is something you desperately want to fix, someone you wish you could make understand, a relationship you want restored, or an answer you have been begging God to give you.
I wish I could tell you how your story will turn out. I can’t. And right now, I cannot see the end of some of my own stories either.
But perhaps faith isn’t found in knowing what happens next. Maybe faith is found in knowing that whatever happens next, God will already be there.
“Be still, and know that I am God.” — Psalm 46:10
Maybe being still isn’t giving up.
Maybe sometimes being still is simply saying, “God, I trust You enough to stop trying to write the next chapter myself.”
