There is a kind of healing that nobody really talks about.
It’s learning how to love people without putting your trust in places where only God was ever supposed to sit.
For a long time, I didn’t realize that some of my disappointment with people wasn’t necessarily because they failed me. Sometimes, it was because I had placed expectations on them that God never asked them to carry.
I loved people deeply. I cared about their opinions. I valued their advice. I wanted their reassurance. And when life got hard, I found myself running to people before I ran to Jesus.
I would say, “Let me pray about it,” when the truth was, I had already talked to five people about it.
And eventually, God had to show me something uncomfortable:
I wasn’t always trusting Him first.
I had leaned on relationships for security when I should have been leaning on Christ.
And sometimes, without realizing it, I had placed people on pedestals they were never meant to stand on.
That realization changed the way I see relationships.
Because now I understand something I didn’t understand before:
People can love you and still disappoint you.
People can care about you and still not have the capacity to show up for you in the way you hoped.
People can have good intentions and still make decisions that hurt you.
And sometimes, the relationship can continue even after trust has been broken. Because forgiveness doesn’t always mean everything goes back to the way it was.
I can forgive you.
I can love you.
I can have compassion for you.
I can pray for you.
I can understand that you are human because I am human too.
And I can still recognize that I don’t trust you the way I once did.
That doesn’t make me bitter.
It doesn’t mean I haven’t healed.
It doesn’t mean I’m holding a grudge.
Sometimes it means I’ve finally learned discernment.
I’m learning that I don’t have to overshare just because I love someone.
I don’t have to explain every decision I make.
I don’t have to tell everybody what God is doing in my life.
I don’t have to seek ten opinions before I seek His.
Sometimes wisdom looks like being quiet.
Sometimes wisdom looks like listening.
Sometimes wisdom looks like loving someone from a healthier distance.
And sometimes wisdom sounds very simple:
“I love you. But I don’t trust you.”
I’m learning that there is freedom in being able to say that without hatred in my heart.
This season my life is teaching me that trust was never supposed to begin with people.
It was supposed to begin with God.
So this series isn’t about becoming cold.
It isn’t about cutting everybody off.
It isn’t about assuming the worst in people.
And it certainly isn’t about walking around believing nobody can be trusted.
It’s about learning the difference between love and access, forgiveness and trust, compassion and discernment, and leaning on people versus leaning on Jesus.
Most importantly, it’s about learning what happens when I finally put God back where He belongs:
first.
Welcome to Learning to Trust Again. 🤎
This is my honest journey through faith, forgiveness, boundaries, discernment, relationships, and learning to trust God more than I trust my own expectations of people. I wasn’t wrong for loving people. I was learning that people were never supposed to be my ultimate source of direction, security, validation, or wisdom.
And maybe, somewhere along the way, you’ll realize you’re learning the same lesson too.
I want to share with you throughout this series the Scriptures that I kept close and keep close to me:
- Psalm 118:8 – “It is better to trust in the LORD than to put confidence in man.”
- Jeremiah 17:7 – “Blessed is the man that trusteth in the LORD, and whose hope the LORD is.” (Your hope has to have somewhere solid to land.)
- Psalm 146:3 – “Put not your trust in princes, nor in the son of man, in whom there is no help.” (Not because people are worthless, but because people are limited.)
- Matthew 10:16 – “Jesus tells HIs disciples to be “wise as serpents, and harmless as doves.” (You can remain loving without becoming naive.)
Now before we move on I want to point out this distinction.
Forgiveness deals with what happened in your heart before God. Trust deals with whether someone’s character and actions have demonstrated that they are safe to entrust with something again. You can forgive someone completely and still have boundaries. You can have compassion without ignoring patterns. And you can trust God without pretending people are incapable of hurting you.
As of lately, there is a kind of trust God has been teaching me that I didn’t realize I needed.
Not just trusting Him with the outcome.
Not just trusting Him when I don’t know what’s next.
But learning to trust Him enough to be still.
Enough to stop running to everybody else.
Enough to stop filling every silence.
Enough to listen.
Because if I’m honest, there was a time when I desperately wanted to hear from God.
I would pray fervently:
“Lord, what do I do?”
“Lord, what should I say?”
“Lord, please tell me what to do now.”
I wanted His answer.
I wanted His direction.
I wanted His voice.
But as I continue to mature in Christ, He’s been showing me something I hadn’t considered:
I was asking Him to speak while constantly surrounding myself with noise.
And not necessarily bad noise.
That’s the part that made it harder to recognize.
Christian podcasts.
Worship music.
Sermons.
Something playing while walking, while I cooked, even when I showered.
Something playing in the background because I didn’t want the room to be quiet.
Because the truth was, I was afraid of the silence. I was so afraid of the silence. I was afraid of what I might hear in it.
My own thoughts.
My own fears.
My own uncertainty.
So I kept something playing.
Even when the noise was Christ- centered.
But eventually I had to realize:
Noise is still noise.
And sometimes I was so busy listening to something about God that I wasn’t actually sitting quietly with God.
- I Had to Become Comfortable With Silence
Jesus doesn’t always compete with the noise. Sometimes He whispers. Sometimes He leads quietly. Sometimes the answer isn’t going to come through some dramatic moment. Sometimes I have to sit still long enough to recognize the gentle work He is already doing in my spirit. And I had to learn that silence isn’t necessarily an absence of God.
Sometimes silence is the space where I finally become aware of Him.
So now, when I pray, I’m learning not to immediately rush away. I don’t just tell God everything on my heart, say amen, and run into the next task.
I’m learning to sit.
To breathe.
To be quiet.
To give Him the room.
Not because I believe five minutes is some magical amount of time that forces God to answer me. But because I need to practice being still. So I started giving God at least five minutes after I pray. Five minutes where I’m not asking another question. Five minutes where I’m not reaching for my phone. Five minutes where I’m not filling the silence.
Just sitting.
Listening.
Waiting.
Not demanding that He speak.
Just being there in case He does.
Because trusting God means trusting Him even when He hasn’t given me the answer yet.
“Be still, and know that I am God.” Proverbs 46:10
And I’ve learned something else about stillness.
I don’t have to be afraid of my own thoughts anymore.
I can bring them to God.
I can examine them.
I can surrender them.
I can let Him correct me.
I can let Him quiet me.
I can let Him show me what is fear, what is flesh, what is wisdom, and what is actually aligned with His Word.
Stillness has become less about waiting for a voice and more about becoming available to God.
2. I Had to Stop Going to Everybody Else First
This one convicted me deeply.
Because I used to go to everybody, for everything.
I wanted opinions.
Direction.
Confirmation.
Instruction.
Reassurance.
I wanted to know:
“What would you do?”
“What do you think?”
“Does this make sense to you?”
“Do you think I’m wrong?”
And by the time I finally went to God, if I went to Him at all, I was already full.
Full of:
Seventeen opinions.
Three instructions.
Five projections.
A handful of “If I were you…”
Several “Don’t do that.”
A few “What if this happens?”
And enough fear and negativity to make me question something I hadn’t even given God the opportunity to speak about yet. I had filled the room before inviting Him into it. And that’s when I had to admit something:
I wasn’t always seeking wisdom. Sometimes I was outsourcing my discernment.
Now let me be clear on this. There is nothing wrong with wise counsel. Scripture even tells us there is wisdom in godly counsel. But there is a difference between receiving counsel and allowing everybody else’s voice to become the voice of God in your life.
I had to learn to go to God first, not last.
Not after everybody else has given me their perspective.
Not after I’ve already decided what I think and I’m asking Him to agree.
First.
Because people can love me and still be wrong.
People can mean well and still project their fears onto me.
People can give me advice based on their experiences, their wounds, their limitations, and their understanding. And that’s okay. They’re human. I’m human. But God sees what none of us can see.
So now I’m learning:
I can listen to people without being led by people.
I can value someone’s opinion without making it my instruction.
I can receive wise counsel without surrendering my discernment.
And really, sometimes the most mature thing I can say is:
“Let me pray about this first.”
And actually mean it.
3. I Had to Learn to Wait After the Prayer
I realized that sometimes I was treating prayer like a transaction. I would tell God what I wanted. What I didn’t want. What I thought should happen. What I was afraid of. What I was considering. And then, amen. And I’m gone. Yep, on to the next thing Chile.
But how often was I sitting with Him?
How often was I leaving room for God to correct what I was asking for?
How often was I willing to hear, “no” “not yet,” or “wait” instead of only wanting confirmation of what I had already decided?
So I started sitting with Him.
Five minutes.
No agenda.
No rushing.
No forcing an answer.
Just stillness.
And sometimes I hear nothing immediately.
But even that has taught me something.
God doesn’t owe me an immediate answer for me to trust Him.
Wait on the Lord: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart; wait, I say, on the Lord.” Psalm 27:14
I really used to think waiting meant nothing was happening. Like, I would say it because I’ve heard it so many times. It’s like the right thing to say. But to feel it and know it in my heart, I didn’t. I didn’t know how to wait because honestly I didn’t trust Him because I didn’t know Him. I wasn’t in my Word. I talked Jesus but I didn’t know Jesus. I knew some scriptures but I tied particular scriptures that fed my flesh and not my heart posture. I did Christian work that was convent for me.
Now I understand that waiting can be where God develops my faith, my patience, my discernment, and my dependence on Him. Maybe God isn’t asking me to figure everything out. Maybe He’s asking me to trust Him while He works.
4. I Had to Stop Dismissing the Gentle Nudge
This one has required another kind of discernment, whew.
Because sometimes there’s that thought. That quiet conviction. That persistent feeling that I need to pray for somebody. That person who keeps coming to mind. That prompting to reach out. That moment when I’m about to leave and something in me says, “Don’t go that way.” And I used to dismiss those things. “Oh, it’s probably nothing.” “I’m just being paranoid.” “I’m overthinking.” “That’s just a feeling.” “I’ll do it later.”
But I’m learning not to automatically dismiss what may be a gentle prompting from the Holy Spirit.
And I’m also learning not to automatically assume every thought or feeling is God. I test what I’m sensing.
I pray about it.
I examine it.
I look at the fruit.
I don’t make impulsive decisions just because I had a feeling.
But I also don’t want to become so afraid of being wrong that I become disobedient when God is genuinely prompting me. Because God is our Father.
He disciples.
He corrects.
He leads.
But He is also gentle.
He doesn’t have to scream to get my attention.
He doesn’t have to be loud and dramatic.
Sometimes He comes quietly.
A gentle conviction.
As persistent reminder.
A quiet prompting to pray.
A nudge to reach out.
A restraint that tells me to pause.
And I’ve learned that obedience isn’t always going to feel dramatic.
Sometimes obedience is simply:
“Lord, I don’t fully understand this, but I’m going to listen.”
I Love People. But I Don’t Put My Trust in People the Way I Used To.
And this is where all of this comes together for me.
I used to put people on pedestals.
I expected relationships to be things they weren’t.
I expected people to show up in ways they weren’t equipped to show up.
And when they didn’t, I was hurt. I was so hurt.
Heartbroken.
But God had to show me that some of my disappointment wasn’t because people were necessarily terrible.
Some of it came from expectations I had placed on people that belonged to Him.
I was leaning on people more than I was leaning on Jesus.
I went to people first.
I would seek their opinions.
I would tell them every single thing.
Oversharing.
I would ask what they thought.
And then I would say:
“I’m just going to pray about it.”
When the truth was, I should have prayed about it first.
That was a lack of wisdom.
And in some ways, it became idolatry, not because I worshiped people in the traditional sense, but because I allowed their opinions, approval, reassurance, and direction to occupy a place in my life that belonged to God.
And God had to lovingly pull me back.
Back to Him.
Now I understand that I can love people deeply without making them my foundation.
I can forgive someone without restoring the same level of trust.
I can have compassion for someone’s humanity without ignoring their patterns.
I can care about someone and still have boundaries.
I can listen without oversharing.
I can speak without over explaining.
And sometimes I can simply be quiet.
Not because I hate anyone.
Not because I haven’t forgiven.
But because wisdom has taught me that everyone doesn’t need access to everything.
And I’m okay with that now.
And I’m okay with changing my mind.
And I no longer feel guilt or shame because I saw the error in my own ways.
Maybe Trusting God Again Looks Like This
Maybe sometimes it looks like turning off the podcast.
Sitting in the quiet.
Letting your own thoughts come to the surface, instead of running from them.
Praying and then staying.
Giving God five minutes.
Waiting before responding.
Not calling everybody.
Not asking everybody.
Not explaining everything.
Not allowing seventeen opinions to drown out the One voice you actually need.
And when that gentle nudge comes?
Don’t automatically dismiss it.
Test it.
Pray over it
Bring it back to Scripture.
And if God is leading you, obey.
Because I’m learning that trust isn’t just believing God can lead me.
Trust is being willing to let Him.
I don’t want to spend the rest of my life asking God, “Lord, what do I do?” While I’m too busy listening to everybody else to hear Him.
I don’t want to pray for direction and then run ahead because I don’t like waiting.
I don’t want to ask God to speak and then drown Him out with noise.
I don’t want to become so afraid of making another wrong decision that I stop making decisions altogether.
I want to know His Word.
I want to recognize His character.
I want to develop discernment.
I want to be still.
I want to listen.
I want to obey.
And when I get it wrong and I will sometimes get it wrong, I don’t want to run from God in shame.
I want to run back to Him.
Because my confidence isn’t ultimately in my ability to hear perfectly.
My confidence is in the God who is faithful enough to correct me, wise enough to lead me, patient enough to teach me, and gracious enough to meet me when I get t wrong.
That is what learning to trust God again has looked like for me.
Not perfection.
Dependence.
Not certainty.
Surrender.
Not having every answer.
Knowing Who to ask first.
And maybe you’re in that place too.
Maybe you’ve been asking God for an answer while surrounded by so much noise that you haven’t realized how desperately you need stillness.
Maybe you’ve asked ten people what they think and haven’t asked God what He says.
Maybe you’ve prayed and immediately walked away without giving yourself permission to wait.
Maybe you’ve become so afraid of getting it wrong that you’ve stopped trusting yourself to move at all.
If that’s you, perhaps God isn’t asking you to figure everything out today.
Perhaps He’s simply inviting you to come closer.
Turn down the noise.
Get still.
Pray.
Wait.
Listen.
Test what you hear against His Word.
And when He leads you…obey.
Because the goal isn’t to become someone who never needs direction.
The goal isn’t to become who knows exactly where to go for it.
“Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all they ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.” – Proverbs 3:5-6
I’m still learning.
I’m still listening,
I’m still being corrected.
I’m still growing.
But I know this now:
I don’t need to hear everybody else more clearly.
I need to hear God more clearly.
And sometimes the first step forward to hearing Him…is finally becoming quiet enough to listen.
So, Chile, if this is a season you’re in too, I pray you give yourself permission to slow down.
Turn down the noise.
Take it to God first.
Sit with Him.
Wait on Him.
And trust that even when you don’t hear an immediate answer, He is still near.
Thank you for sitting with me in this part go my story.
I’m still learning.
Still growing.
Still being corrected.
Still becoming.
And I’m grateful we get to walk this out together.
Until the next entry, keep seeking Him, keep growing, and keep giving yourself grace. 🤎
With so much love,
April
From Grit To Grace
Faith. Grace. Growth.
SIT WITH THIS 🤎
- Where have I been looking for answers before looking to God?
- What noise might I need to turn down so I can become still?
- Have I been seeking advice when I really need to seek God?
- Is there something God has been gently prompting me to pay attention to?
🤎 Come Stay Connected
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Until then, keep seeking Him.🤎
Talk soon and God Bless.