Learning to Trust Him with Teenagers

by Julie Druck - Editor of A Heart for Home Newsletter - aheartforhome-subscribe@welovegod.org - Used by permission

Nobody told me. Or maybe I wasn’t listening. But here’s what I’ve discovered over the last few years – that raising teenagers is terrifying work.

 

Interested in a few case scenarios? How about the fear factor involved in climbing into the passenger seat to let my firstborn drive home with his brand-new permit. Or the almost-nauseating feeling from waiting to hear my oldest two pull into the drive after a late-night volleyball game. Or the mental tirade of trauma images that refused to be eradicated when we left the boys home alone overnight for the first time. Or the worry of the time Marty left them walk around the farmers’ market WITHOUT US. (He comforted my fears by reminding me that the boys were bigger than we were.)

 

What I am trying to say is this: That when my oldest son turned 16, I became a basket case.

 

And not just a basket case but a control freak in the bargain. Actually, this ‘control freak’ thing isn’t a new revelation. It’s the same old story bound up in a new cover. I’ve had an on-going wrestling match with God in this area for most of my life. But now the fight doesn’t just involve me – it involves my babies.

 

As I try to think this out rationally, trying to discern what I’m really afraid of, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s not so much a fear of doubting my boys and the decisions that they’ll make. I’ve seen much evidence in their lives to have confidence in the fact that they know to Whom they belong and that walking in His ways is a wise and joyful thing. What I rail against is a fear of physical harm. A fear that teases that I may not have my boys as long as I want. A fear that maybe the plans I have for them aren’t the same plans that He has for them.  

 

And somehow I’ve managed to control that fear all these years by fooling myself into believing that I’ve been the one calling all the shots. That I’ve been the one whose protected my little chicks. Oh, my mouth said that God was the One doing it – but my heart knows different. And now, all of a sudden, I find that I’m not ‘in charge’ anymore. That I can’t be in every situation, every circumstance, every scenario – guarding my quickly-growing brood from all kinds of real or imagined danger. Now I must stand helplessly by and (gasp!) trust God with my nestlings! I have to let God take care of my children - as if He hasn’t been the very One doing that all along? Isn’t that ludicrous?! It looks even more ridiculous to me in print, but it’s oh-so-real in my head.

 

So, what to do about it? I certainly can’t continue in this line of thinking – it’s insanely hard on my nerves. The conclusion I’ve come to is that I’ve got two choices - I must trust God or go insane. (A friend once told me that there’s a thin line between faith and insanity – and she’s right.)   And since I’ve tried the worry route and it leads to nowhere good, I guess I’ve no choice but to trust God. Silly, isn’t it? Especially when there’s a Book in which He has stated dozens and dozens and dozens of times that He takes care of His children in His own good and perfect ways. And not only that, but I’ve experienced the reality of those promises through His goodness and grace and mercy over and over again in my life.

 

And so, with sheer willpower (actually, more like a good measure of the help of the Holy Spirit), I’m learning to trust God with my boys. I’m not always great at it – it’s a dance like anything else – but, in His grace, He is helping me let go of fear and, instead, trust Him. It’s a matter of mentally taking hold of those fearful, worrisome thoughts (so that they can’t run rampant) and, instead, reminding myself of the truths and realities of His Word. And you know, each situation I do that in, it gets a little easier. He’s helping me step-by-baby-step to trust Him - to surrender one more area of my life to His sovereign and good and trustworthy control.