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| Image by Alexandra_Koch from Pixabay |
[Note: This is not a political post, but it does talk about the government shut down.]
It is November 1st, 2025, the government is shut down, and I feel like I’m holding my
breath.
Allow me to explain. I work for the federal government, and
the federal government is shut down. Sort of. The government is trying to do
government things. But without a budget, without a way to pay for those things,
the people who work for the government are either furloughed (that is, not going
to work) or exempted (that, going to work but not getting paid). Neither position
is especially fun.
As I write this post, the government has been shut down for
thirty-two days. When the shut down started, my wife and I took stock of what
we were spending money on and how much we had in savings. Which is fine.
Knowing how much money you have and where it’s going is just being a good
steward. We cancelled the things we didn’t need, things like streaming services.
We stopped eating out. Stopped getting the occasional fancy coffee. Then I did
some math and calculated how long we had until we needed to start taking out loans.
In other words, we had a clock. A countdown.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Did you ever practice holding your breath as a kid at the
pool or during bathtime? It’s easy at the start, and it gets harder and harder
as you go. You can feel the urge to breathe increase slowly at first and then rapidly.
It’s a tightness that turns to a burning that eventually turns into eventually irresistible
urge.
I was paying bills today, and it felt like I was holding my
breath. Just a little tightness. Just the first part of holding my breath. Like
each bill was draining a thing I couldn’t replace. I was watching that
metaphorical clock tick down, and I felt helpless. When you’re playing around holding
your breath as a kid, you know you can get out of the water. You know you can
breathe if you need to. But what if you couldn’t? What if you didn’t control
when you could breathe again?
Tick. Tick. Tick.
I’m not writing this because I want anyone to feel bad for
me. I’m writing this because there’s a tightness in my chest and writing down
the “why” for that tightness helps. It clarifies. It shines a light on the
nebulous shadows in the dark, forces them to show what they are.
There is probably a lesson here on who or what I trust in
for my safety and my income. Do I trust in the government to support me? Do I
trust in myself? Do I trust in God? As a Christian, I am supposed to trust in
God. The Bible is full of people who trusted in God. I’m supposed to be like
them. Before the shut down, I would have told you that I definitely trusted in
God. I would have meant it, too.
But is trust real if you never need to rely on it? And, if my
trust is real, WHY DO I FEEL LIKE I’M HOLDING MY BREATH? Sorry about the
yelling.
There’s a difference between intending to trust God and actually
doing it. It turns out, it is not intuitive. It is not comfortable. It takes
practice. So, in that small sense, the shut down is a blessing. I get to practice
trusting God instead of myself and instead of my government.
Let’s end with this, a statement of faith and love and hope
from a man on the run for his life*:
I have heard the many rumors about me,
and I am surrounded by terror.
My enemies conspire against me,
plotting to take my life.
But I am trusting you, O Lord,
saying, “You are my God!”
Psalm 31:13-14 (NLT)
Maybe one day I’ll trust and love like David.
Love,
Tom
*Psalm 31 was likely written by David when he was on the run from King Saul.
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