When Agreeing to Trust Means Taking a Big Risk

Trust always sounds gentle and reassuring—until it becomes personal.

We talk easily about trusting God with our future or our faith, but trust takes on a different weight when it asks us to give something up. When obedience costs comfort, clarity, or control, trust stops feeling inspirational and starts feeling risky. That’s often the moment we realize how much we’ve been leaning on our own understanding instead of on God Himself.

A Moment When Trust Cost Something

I remember sitting at my desk late one evening, laptop open, staring at an email I had rewritten far too many times. The opportunity I was responding to looked good—promising, affirming, and logical. It offered visibility, forward momentum, and the sense that I was finally moving out of a long, quiet season.

Every practical argument told me to say yes.

But for weeks leading up to that moment, something hadn’t sat right. Each time I prayed about it, I felt unsettled. I wasn’t anxious, just quietly uneasy. During that same stretch of time, Proverbs 3:5–6 kept appearing everywhere. In my morning Bible reading. In a sermon I wasn’t expecting to need. It also snuck into a casual conversation that landed a little too close to home.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.

That verse stopped sounding comforting and started sounding confrontational.

My understanding said the timing made sense. That this was how doors were supposed to open. My understanding said saying no would look foolish and possibly stall progress altogether. But God’s Word kept pressing the same question: Will you trust Me even when this doesn’t make sense to you?

That night, hitting “send” meant turning something down without knowing what would replace it. No backup plan. No reassurance. And no clear next step. Just obedience.

When I finally sent the email, I waited for that calm assurance people talk about when you “do the right thing,” but I only felt exposed. I had stepped away from something tangible and was left holding nothing but trust.

What Proverbs 3:5–6 Really Asks of Us

Proverbs 3:5–6 is often quoted as encouragement, but it’s also a challenge. It leaves no room for partial trust. “With all your heart” doesn’t allow us to hedge our bets or keep a contingency plan tucked away just in case God doesn’t come through the way we expect.

The command to lean not on our own understanding implies something uncomfortable. There will be moments when God’s direction doesn’t align with our logic. Trust requires us to move forward before clarity arrives.

We love the promise at the end of the passage—He will make your paths straight. But we often overlook the order. Direction comes after surrender, not before it. God doesn’t promise to explain everything first and then ask for obedience. He asks for trust, and then He directs.

In the weeks that followed my decision, nothing dramatic happened. No immediate confirmation. No obvious reward. But something quieter began to take place. My rest returned. My focus sharpened. I stopped scanning for the next opportunity and started listening more closely to God’s leading.

About one month later, an entirely different door opened. One I hadn’t noticed and couldn’t have orchestrated, even if I had tried my best. It aligned far more clearly with what God had been shaping in me all along. And I knew, without question, that I would have missed it had I clung to my own understanding earlier.

Let’s be clear, though. Trust didn’t remove the uncertainty. It relocated it. Instead of carrying it myself, I placed it in God’s hands.

Learning to Choose Risky Trust in Our Own Lives

Applying this kind of trust to our lives means asking uncomfortable but necessary questions.

• Where am I hesitating because obedience feels costly?
• Where am I saying yes simply because it feels secure?
• What am I afraid will happen if I trust God fully here?

Trust feels risky when it asks us to let go of control. It feels risky when we can’t see the outcome. It feels risky when obedience leaves us exposed. But Scripture reminds us that trusting God isn’t reckless. It’s rooted in His character.

Trust doesn’t require us to understand everything. It requires us to acknowledge God in everything, especially in decisions that feel uncertain, inconvenient, or irreversible.

When trust feels risky, it’s often because it’s real. And when we choose to trust anyway, God is faithful to do exactly what He promises: to direct our paths with purpose, wisdom, and care.

That kind of TRUST—To Rely Upon Savior’s Timing—may not feel safe, but it is always secure.