It is a thing to be trusted.

This morning I took my boss's American Express card and drove a quarter mile to the post office. A left turn and a right turn and I was there. A package needed to be overnighted and I was free to do it, so I did, with a credit card tucked in the front pocket of my jeans.

This is a small thing, a normal thing for most employees in small non-profits like mine. If you cannot trust the fifteen people with whom you labor alongside in work like this, who can you trust?

But this is also a big thing: how easy would it have been to keep on driving straight into the Texas flatland, spending every cent possible on that card?

I'd never do it of course. But I could have.

This is what I am thinking this morning because last night I looked into the eyes of a weeping friend and said words about how true God's character is that He would entrust some of us with His broken children. His absolute goodness assures me that when He hands me the life of someone to love, hold, and listen to,  He purposes that moment for me. He entrusts it to me.


There are so many broken things behind me that I think that I cannot be trusted with anything; surely the cycle of brokenness prevents me from ever handling anything with grace or faith, let alone success.

But time and time and time again He hands me his credit card and it has an unlimited amount tied to it, and He says "Drive on, daughter. Come home when you're done, but drive on, be faithful. I entrust it to you because I know Who I Am and I've got this."