“We are faced with a moral issue,” the evangelist said
“A moral what?” the man asked.
“A moral issue. Let me illustrate: If I was to say I am
stronger than you we could settle the matter easily. We could arm wrestle.”
“Okay, what’s the point your making?”
“A moral issue is a bit more complicated. I f I was to say
that I am more honest than you, it would take our lifetimes to settle the
matter. And so it goes with the human family in their relationship with the
creator.”
Bitachon (Hebrew) refers to a deep spiritual trust and
confidence in God that he is in control and that things will unfold according
to divine will, regardless of what we observe around us.
*****
As I sit and reflect on
the meaning of the Hebrew word Bitachon—trust, confidence, or assurance
in God—I am struck by how it resonates with my own journey. We live in a world
filled with uncertainty, imperfection, and suffering. But for me, Bitachon is
the reminder that there is a greater force at work, a divine assurance that,
despite all appearances, God is in control. This trust is not a passive belief;
it is an active posture of faith that steadies me, especially when the world
feels chaotic and unjust.
I wasn’t born with an
understanding of Bitachon. My path to faith began at 23, a time when I
had parted ways with friends and was searching for something more—something
that could give my life deeper meaning and purpose. I was seeking God, even if
I didn’t fully realize it at the time. And through scripture, particularly
through the lives of people like Job, I began to understand what it meant to
trust in God’s overarching plan, even when that plan is obscured by suffering.
The story of Job in the
Bible has always moved me. Job was a man who suffered for righteousness' sake,
not because of anything he had done wrong, but because he was caught in a much
larger moral issue. God allowed Job to experience deep loss, but even in his
anguish, Job spoke of a future hope, a “renewal” of life (Job 14:14). This idea
of suffering being undone, of renewal and restoration, is something I hold onto
tightly. Like Job, I’ve seen suffering—not just in my own life, but in the
lives of others. The key question for me has always been, “Why does God allow
this?” And the answer lies, I believe, in the very essence of Bitachon:
God is in control, even when we can’t see it.
Romans 8:20-23 provides
another layer of understanding for me. In these verses, Paul speaks about the
creation being subjected to futility, not by its own choice, but by the will of
the one who subjected it, in hope that creation itself will be liberated from
its bondage to decay. This speaks to the imperfect world we are all born into—a
world that groans as it awaits redemption. We are all on a level playing field,
born into a society marred by imperfection and suffering. But the fact that we
suffer does not mean that God has abandoned us. Rather, it means that we have
the opportunity to seek Him, to prove ourselves worthy of eternal life, as Job
did. God is always present, guiding the process, even when it feels like
everything is unravelling.
The moral issue at the
heart of our existence is something I’ve come to accept as part of God’s plan.
It reminds me of an illustration I’ve often thought about: if I were to say
that I am stronger than you, we could easily settle the matter by arm wrestling.
The winner would be clear. But if I were to say that I am more honest than you,
well, that’s not something we could determine in a single contest. It would
take our entire lives to assess—through our actions, choices, and the way we
navigate the challenges life throws at us. In the same way, God allows humanity
to live out this moral dilemma, to prove through our lives whether we trust
Him, whether we are honest, kind, and righteous. And that process takes time.
Bitachon
assures me that no matter how overwhelming life’s moral dilemmas feel, God’s
sovereignty remains unchanged. While we are given the freedom to make our
choices, God remains in control, working all things together for good—even when
it’s not immediately obvious. It’s easy to feel lost when looking at the
history of humanity—the wars, the suffering, the injustice—but Bitachon reminds
me that history is not without purpose. God’s hand has always been guiding the
grand narrative, allowing space for humanity to prove its integrity, its
honesty, and its worthiness of His eternal promise.
For me, Bitachon
is a deeply personal trust in God’s plan. It means knowing that the suffering
and imperfection of this world are not the final word. Like Job, I may
experience trials and heartache, but I also hold onto the hope of renewal. And
like Paul, I believe that all of creation is waiting in eager expectation for
that final redemption. This trust sustains me, even when the world feels out of
control, because I know that God’s control is never out of reach.
Where Is God In This broken World?
“We are faced with a moral issue,” the evangelist said
“A moral what?” the man asked.
“A moral issue. Let me illustrate: If I was to say I am stronger than you we could settle the matter easily. We could arm wrestle.”
“Okay, what’s the point your making?”
“A moral issue is a bit more complicated. I f I was to say that I am more honest than you, it would take our lifetimes to settle the matter. And so it goes with the human family in their relationship with the creator.”
Image by https://unsplash.com/@arnaudpapa
Bitachon (Hebrew) refers to a deep spiritual trust and confidence in God that he is in control and that things will unfold according to divine will, regardless of what we observe around us.
*****
As I sit and reflect on the meaning of the Hebrew word Bitachon—trust, confidence, or assurance in God—I am struck by how it resonates with my own journey. We live in a world filled with uncertainty, imperfection, and suffering. But for me, Bitachon is the reminder that there is a greater force at work, a divine assurance that, despite all appearances, God is in control. This trust is not a passive belief; it is an active posture of faith that steadies me, especially when the world feels chaotic and unjust.
I wasn’t born with an understanding of Bitachon. My path to faith began at 23, a time when I had parted ways with friends and was searching for something more—something that could give my life deeper meaning and purpose. I was seeking God, even if I didn’t fully realize it at the time. And through scripture, particularly through the lives of people like Job, I began to understand what it meant to trust in God’s overarching plan, even when that plan is obscured by suffering.
The story of Job in the Bible has always moved me. Job was a man who suffered for righteousness' sake, not because of anything he had done wrong, but because he was caught in a much larger moral issue. God allowed Job to experience deep loss, but even in his anguish, Job spoke of a future hope, a “renewal” of life (Job 14:14). This idea of suffering being undone, of renewal and restoration, is something I hold onto tightly. Like Job, I’ve seen suffering—not just in my own life, but in the lives of others. The key question for me has always been, “Why does God allow this?” And the answer lies, I believe, in the very essence of Bitachon: God is in control, even when we can’t see it.
Romans 8:20-23 provides another layer of understanding for me. In these verses, Paul speaks about the creation being subjected to futility, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay. This speaks to the imperfect world we are all born into—a world that groans as it awaits redemption. We are all on a level playing field, born into a society marred by imperfection and suffering. But the fact that we suffer does not mean that God has abandoned us. Rather, it means that we have the opportunity to seek Him, to prove ourselves worthy of eternal life, as Job did. God is always present, guiding the process, even when it feels like everything is unravelling.
The moral issue at the heart of our existence is something I’ve come to accept as part of God’s plan. It reminds me of an illustration I’ve often thought about: if I were to say that I am stronger than you, we could easily settle the matter by arm wrestling. The winner would be clear. But if I were to say that I am more honest than you, well, that’s not something we could determine in a single contest. It would take our entire lives to assess—through our actions, choices, and the way we navigate the challenges life throws at us. In the same way, God allows humanity to live out this moral dilemma, to prove through our lives whether we trust Him, whether we are honest, kind, and righteous. And that process takes time.
Bitachon assures me that no matter how overwhelming life’s moral dilemmas feel, God’s sovereignty remains unchanged. While we are given the freedom to make our choices, God remains in control, working all things together for good—even when it’s not immediately obvious. It’s easy to feel lost when looking at the history of humanity—the wars, the suffering, the injustice—but Bitachon reminds me that history is not without purpose. God’s hand has always been guiding the grand narrative, allowing space for humanity to prove its integrity, its honesty, and its worthiness of His eternal promise.
For me, Bitachon is a deeply personal trust in God’s plan. It means knowing that the suffering and imperfection of this world are not the final word. Like Job, I may experience trials and heartache, but I also hold onto the hope of renewal. And like Paul, I believe that all of creation is waiting in eager expectation for that final redemption. This trust sustains me, even when the world feels out of control, because I know that God’s control is never out of reach.