The biggest problem I have is with trust. I have trouble trusting God, my family, my friends, politicians and even myself. Well, I might be right not to trust the last two on this list!

When I don’t trust God, it damages my relationship with others. It’s hard to hope, be open to new ideas, or take risks. It’s difficult to embrace others’ success rather than reacting with jealousy. At the moment, I’m going through a time of uncertainty in my personal circumstances. When I woke up on Friday morning, after the EU referendum result, it was in a country which faces a time of change and uncertainty. This will inevitably affect my own family.

I’m apprehensive about the future. I want to know right now what is going to happen, and when an immediate answer isn’t forthcoming, I throw a tantrum. I am behaving like a spoilt child at a snack break. Rather than sharing the biscuits with others, I want to keep them all to myself. I don’t just want my biscuit for today; I want one for tomorrow and the next day and the next.

What I don’t realise is that the biscuits will go off if I try to hoard them. If I really trusted the person who provided the biscuits, I’d know that they would provide what I need tomorrow and the next day. The trouble is, I don’t trust. I want everything right now.

Sometimes, lack of trust takes another form. I huddle into myself and lose hope. I become convinced that God has forgotten about me, or that I simply don’t matter to Him anymore.

In his book ‘The Second Greatest Story Ever Told’ (thanks for the recommendation!), Fr Michael Gaitley says that “sin begins with a lack of trust.” Okay, so it’s not just me. He goes on to say that our lack of trust comes from a distorted image of God. He describes God’s dealings with mankind in the Old and New Testaments and through the church since then as “God’s school of trust.”

Today I realised that while I might assent to the Gospel at head level, my fear and lack of trust shows deep unbelief at another level. If I really believed that Jesus is the good shepherd, then I would wait patiently until he showed me where I’m supposed to go next. If I really believed that God notices when a sparrow dies, then I wouldn’t give up in despair, convinced that he’s forgotten about me.

So many things in my life, like the political landscape I live in, are out of my control. However, I can’t even manage trust. I fail at that too. Like St. Therese, all I can do is hold out my arms like a little child and ask God to pick me up.

I think of John Henry Newman’s hymn ‘Lead, Kindly Light’ where he says “I do not ask to see the distant scene; one step enough for me”. I also think of Norman MacCaig’s poem, “Something Still”. It’s about a relationship which was good, but something has gone wrong. In the last verse, the poet says,

Disregard your empty hands.

It is not nothing in your fingers

That aches, but the impossible greed

To hold at once all your tomorrows.

That just about sums it up. If I can get over my impossible greed to know that my tomorrows will be provided for, I’ll be able to see that I have what it takes for today.