Help Me Trust You Here

I recently went to see Joshua at Sight & Sound Theatre, and I walked in expecting a powerful production—but I didn’t realize I was walking into a moment of conviction. Every production Ive been to at Sight and Sound has left a lasting impact but this one hit in the season I am in.

Not loud. Not overwhelming.

But quiet. Deep. Personal.

There was a line that didn’t just stay on the stage—it followed me out, settled into my spirit, and hasn’t left:

“Lord, help me trust You here.”

And I realized… here is the hardest place to trust Him.

Not when the promise is fulfilled.

Not when the breakthrough comes.

But in the middle.

In the tension between what He said and what I see.

In Book of Joshua chapter 6, God gives Joshua instructions that, if we’re honest, don’t make sense. Walk around the walls of Jericho once a day for six days. On the seventh day, walk around it seven times. Then shout.

No strategy.

No weapons.

No visible progress.

Just obedience.

Can you imagine what that must have felt like?

Day one—faith is high.

Day three—questions start creeping in.

Day six—silence feels louder than ever.

And yet, they kept walking.

Because trust isn’t built in the outcome.

It’s built in the obedience.

Scripture reminds us in Proverbs 3:5–6:

“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.”

Not some understanding.

Not when it makes sense.

All.

And that’s where this season has been stretching me.

Because if I’m being honest, I’m in a “Jericho season.”

I’m walking.

I’m showing up.

I’m doing the things God has asked me to do.

But I don’t see the walls moving yet.

That deep wrestle came this morning, the morning after this was on my heart. I sat down at work, feeling ready for the day and ready to feel good. Then I looked down at my thigh to see something not unfamiliar to me but frequently frustrating. The wound on my leg that hasn't healed must have been bumped and left its mark. I was overwhelmed with this wrestle once again. Why hasn't it healed? Am I failing at prayer? What more do I need to do? But like the natural I am at dealing with it, I took my sweatshirt off and tied it on my waist. Instant coverage but didnt hid the inner wrestle and pain.

There are moments where I want to ask, “God, is this working?”

Moments where I want clarity instead of calling.

Moments where I want the outcome instead of the process.

But instead, I keep coming back to that prayer:

“Lord, help me trust You here.”

Because here is where something is happening—even if I can’t see it.

In Isaiah 55:8–9, God says:

“For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways…”

Which means the walking is the plan.

The waiting is not wasted.

The silence is not absence.

The healing is not being withheld.

The promise land is coming.

God is doing something deeper than bringing down walls—He’s building trust. And I’ve started to see it.

Not in the way I expected—but in small, quiet fruit.

A deeper peace where anxiety used to sit.

A steadiness in my spirit, even without answers.

A growing ability to surrender what I can’t control.

A Faith in things that seem crazy and unbelievable.

It’s the kind of fruit Galatians 5 talks about—fruit that isn’t produced overnight, but cultivated over time through abiding, trusting, and remaining.

Even in Hebrews 11:1, we’re reminded:

“Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.”

Not what we do see.

Which means if I could see the walls cracking, it wouldn’t require faith.

But this?

This walking, this trusting, this surrendering in the unknown?

This is faith.

So maybe the miracle of Jericho wasn’t just that the walls fell.

Maybe it’s that they kept walking when they didn’t.

And maybe that’s the invitation for me—and for you too.

To keep walking.

To keep trusting.

To keep believing that God is working, even when it looks like nothing is changing.

Because one day, the walls will fall.

But today?

Today, I’ll walk.

Today, I’ll trust.

Today, my prayer remains:

Lord, help me trust You here.