Can I Trust Him With That?
There is a question that most of us have asked at some point, usually in the middle of a sleepless night or during a season of life that feels like it is unraveling. The question is simple but cuts to the core of our faith: Can I trust God with this?
Not with life in general. Not with the easy stuff. But with this specific thing, the one that keeps your mind racing, the one you have been gripping tightly because letting go feels more dangerous than holding on.
That question deserves an honest answer, and the answer begins with understanding what stability actually is.
We Have Stability Backwards
Most of us define a stable life the same way. There is enough money in the bank. Health is good. Relationships are solid. The future feels predictable. Comfort is the measuring stick, and when life delivers comfort, we call it stability.
But what if that definition is completely wrong?
What if the most stable place you could ever be in your life is not a place of comfort at all, but rather a place of complete trust in Jesus, even when everything around you feels uncertain? True stability is not the absence of storms. It is having a foundation that holds when the storms arrive, and storms will always arrive.
You Are Chosen, Appointed, and Called to Work
There is something deeply human about closing words. When a conversation is running short on time, when a letter is drawing to its end, we instinctively reach for what matters most. We say the things we most want the other person to carry with them. The final chapter of Paul's letter to the Romans is exactly that kind of moment. And what Paul chooses to say in those final verses is worth sitting with carefully, because it is not just a message for the early church. It is a message for anyone who calls themselves a follower of Jesus today.
A Community That Worked Together
Romans 16 is often skimmed over. It is a long list of names, and it is easy to assume there is nothing there for us. But slow down for a moment and look at what those names represent. These were real men and women, slaves and officials, Jews and Gentiles, who loved Jesus and gave their lives to the work of the gospel. Paul calls some of them "fellow workers," a word rooted in the Greek concept of synergy, the idea that people working together can accomplish something far greater than any one of them could alone.
That is not just an interesting historical footnote. It is a picture of what the church is supposed to look like. Every person in that list had a part to play. And the same is true today. Every believer is called to be part of God's work. Not just pastors, not just those with official titles, but every single person who has placed their faith in Jesus.
Living Wide Awake: Freedom, Love, and Urgency in a Complicated World
There is a question that quietly follows every person who has ever received grace: now what?
The relief of forgiveness is real. The weight lifted from a life that once carried condemnation is genuine and profound. But grace was never meant to be a destination. It was always meant to be a starting line. And the starting line leads somewhere — into the streets, into the neighborhoods, into the ordinary moments of everyday life where the kingdom of God either shows up or it does not.
Romans 13 presses hard on this question. It refuses to let us settle into spiritual comfort. Instead, it lays out a vision for what it looks like to live freely in God while still living fully in the world — a world with governments, neighbors, debts, and a clock that is ticking.
Authority Was Never the Enemy
The first thing Romans 13 does is go somewhere unexpected. It talks about government. Not in a way that is partisan or politically charged, but in a way that reframes the entire conversation. Every governing authority that exists, Paul says in Romans 13:1-2, has been established by God. Not because every ruler is righteous, but because God is sovereign over all of it.
This was written while Nero was Caesar. Let that sink in. The man who would later murder family members and reportedly blame Christians for the burning of Rome was on the throne when Paul wrote that governing authorities are established by God. Paul's confidence was not in the goodness of the ruler. It was in the sovereignty of the God who rules over all rulers.
This matters because it reorients where we place our hope. Government is not our savior. It never was. Its purpose, as described throughout Scripture, is to cultivate good and to punish evil — to protect its citizens and restrain wrongdoing. It does this imperfectly, because it is made up of imperfect people. But when we expect government to fulfill what only God can fulfill, we will always be disappointed, and we will always be distracted from the actual work we are called to do.
The call for believers is to submit where we can, to honor those in authority, to pay what we owe, and to pray for those who lead. And when human authority directly contradicts God's authority — as it did for Daniel, for the Hebrew midwives, for the early disciples who refused to stop speaking in the name of Jesus — God's authority is the one we follow, even knowing there may be a cost for doing so.
The point is not blind obedience. The point is a rightly ordered life in which God sits at the top and everything else finds its proper place beneath him.