How Trust Transforms Where Fear Cannot

On the farm where I live, we have several animals—cows, chickens, turkeys. But foremost in my heart are the cats. We have six housecats and one barn cat, which is to say, a lot of cats. It wasn’t always this way. Two sibling cats were abandoned on the farm during the pandemic, and one of these lasses quickly had kittens—some of whom stayed on. Six is a lot of cats, yet I love each one with focused appreciation; and I care for them in the unique ways they need care.

As I read this week’s gospel lectionary passage (John 10:1-10) in which Jesus talks about being the ‘good shepherd,’ I thought of my cats. Jesus makes the case that he can be trusted—unlike those who try to sneak in and who do not know the sheep. The good shepherd calls the sheep by name, and the sheep know his voice. They will not follow a stranger, Jesus says.

Each of my cats has different needs and tolerances. If I force them in any way, our trust and connection break down. Instead, I build connections with them meticulously. Heloise, the runt and a personal favorite, always looks over her shoulder, being more vulnerable than her siblings. Building a loving relationship with her has taken time and quietness. She resists being held, but loves being scratched on her lower back and behind her ears, all while seated with her back to a chair so she feels safe. If I held her the way I hold her brother, Abelard, she would scramble away and never come near me. With her, I take great care.

The faith life is about trust

How much more might the force of love we call God, the God who birthed this glorious universe, take care in reaching out to us? That is what Jesus’ metaphor about the good shepherd seems to say.

I often reiterate that the faith life is about trust. Trust, not beliefs (something in our minds), nor moral perfectionism. The “God of our understanding,” as they say in AA, wants relationship with us because relationship is who God is and is at the core of everything God created, from the tiniest molecule to systems that support the flourishing of species. Relationship and trust are what it is all about. Not only the faith life, but all of life.

As I take tremendous care to foster trust and relationship with my cats, so, I contend, this God is working to foster trust and relationship with you. God isn’t going to force you, or try to sneak in in a threatening way, or make life difficult for you in order to break you. These are dysfunctional theologies that set us on edge rather than opening our hearts to a fathomless benevolence.

Care, not demands, transforms us

I recently heard a Christian religious scholar lamenting that modern religion that doesn’t ask enough of people. He pointed out that people want to reach for something. They want hard expectations, not an easy path, and in this person’s view, modern people are leaving religion because it doesn’t make harsh enough demands.

While I agree that people want something important to live for, and thus want high ideals to pursue in their lives, this scholar suggests we err by believing in a God who isn’t punishing. Yet this is not what I have seen. I have seen people transformed by love and by the goodness of God as they have experienced it. Seeing ourselves reflected in the face of a loving God makes us want to live out God’s dream for the world in lives that are peaceful, just, merciful, honest, kind, and so forth. As I see it, religion does ask a lot of us, but not by holding threats of punishment over us or elevating rules and moral precepts to highest rank. Experience of a God who shows us the gentle regard we’d show our children or our animal-friends, convincing us of our beloved-ness and assuring us we can trust—this transforms us into people desiring high ideals. This sort of trust encounter makes us want more of ourselves and of this world. Trust and love transform us in ways a punishing God never could.