What It Means to Trust God

One of the most difficult things a person of faith faces is the need to maintain trust in God precisely when life becomes unpredictable. When everything is peaceful, when we have work, a home, good health, loved ones, and confidence in tomorrow, speaking about faith and trust is relatively easy. But when someone loses their familiar sense of security, faces danger, illness, war, or difficult circumstances, familiar words about Divine Providence begin to take on an entirely different meaning. It is one thing to reflect on trusting the Creator when nothing threatens you, and quite another to try to preserve that trust when you do not know what tomorrow will bring.

In the Torah, in the book of Deuteronomy (32:4), it is written: “He is the Rock, His work is perfect, for all His ways are just.” This is one of the fundamental principles of the Jewish understanding of God. Yet I think we must distinguish between believing in Divine justice and being able to explain that justice. We do not always understand why certain events happen, especially when innocent people suffer. It would be wrong to claim that we know why a particular person has been subjected to a particular trial. Faith in God’s justice does not make us experts in His intentions, nor does it give us the right to explain the suffering of others.

The Talmud tells us that Rabbi Akiva used to say, “Everything the Merciful One does is for good” (Berakhot 60b). Nahum Ish Gamzu would repeat, “This too is for good” (Ta’anit 21a). I think these words can easily be misunderstood. They certainly do not mean that pain, loss, or tragedy are good in themselves. Still less do they mean that someone who has lost loved ones should be told to rejoice in their suffering. Rather, they express an inner trust in God that allows us not to regard what happens as final proof that the world is meaningless. We can believe that a Divine purpose exists beyond our understanding while sincerely grieving, feeling afraid, and not understanding what is happening. These experiences do not contradict one another.

Jewish tradition has a concept called bitachon, meaning trust in God. Here, I believe, there is an important distinction between being confident that God is capable of saving us and being convinced that He will necessarily do so in precisely the way we expect. The Talmud (Berakhot 10a) teaches that even when a sharp sword rests against a person’s throat, one should not abandon hope in Divine mercy. But hope is not a guarantee of a particular outcome. We know that righteous people also experience tragedies, illness, and loss. Therefore, I would not measure the strength of someone’s faith by whether their wishes come true. Trust, as I understand it, is not certainty that everything will happen according to our plans, but the ability to continue turning to God even when we do not know what the outcome will be.

Another important point is that faith should not become passive waiting for help from above. If someone is in danger, they must seek safety. If they are ill, they should consult a doctor. If they have lost their means of livelihood, they should seek assistance, work, and support. None of this contradicts trust in God. On the contrary, human effort is also part of our responsibility. Trusting God does not mean giving up our own actions. Sometimes the answer to our prayers comes through people who offer help, opportunities we had not previously noticed, or strength we discover within ourselves to take the next step.

In tractate Berakhot (32b), the sages speak about the need to continue praying even when a person has not received an answer to their prayer. I think this is one of the deepest aspects of spiritual life. Prayer is not a way to compel God to fulfill our wishes. Above all, it is a relationship between a human being and the Creator. Sometimes we turn to Him in gratitude, sometimes with requests, and sometimes simply because we are frightened, hurting, and have no one else with whom to share our feelings. Even if circumstances do not change immediately, the very possibility of speaking to God can help a person avoid being left alone with despair.

At the same time, I would be very cautious about claiming that every trial is necessarily sent to someone for their spiritual growth. Yes, difficulties sometimes genuinely change us, help us reconsider our values, lead to important decisions, and reveal qualities we never knew we possessed. Yet not every experience of suffering makes a person stronger. Sometimes suffering exhausts people, damages their health, drains their strength, and calls above all for practical help rather than spiritual explanations. Therefore, when someone near us is in distress, it is far more important to support them first than to explain what God supposedly wants to teach them.

I believe that genuine faith is revealed not when a person stops feeling fear, doubt, or pain, but when, even amid these experiences, they try not to lose hope, humanity, and the ability to act. We cannot always change the circumstances in which we find ourselves, and we are far from always understanding why things have unfolded as they have. But we can continue caring for our loved ones, helping others, making decisions, and turning to God with our requests.

And perhaps one of the most sincere prayers in difficult times is very simple: Help me get through what is happening. Give me the wisdom to distinguish between what I can change and what lies beyond my control. Protect my heart from despair, and do not let me lose the ability to recognize goodness even when there is so much pain around me. For sometimes what a person needs is not certainty that everything will be better tomorrow, but the strength to live through today with dignity.