Year after year, we hear that the UK is getting warmer. This summer alone brought successive heatwaves and a prolonged dry spell, while the forecast for autumn is wet. Moments like these have a way of reminding us of something we often prefer to forget: we are not in control of everything.
For all our advances in science, technology and human knowledge, there are still forces far beyond our command. We cannot simply command the temperature to drop. We cannot stop every storm, prevent every illness or guarantee what tomorrow will bring.
Creation itself has a way of confronting us with our limitations. And perhaps that is not an entirely bad thing.
Where does our help come from?
We spend much of our lives trying to create security. We make plans, save money, build careers, arrange our schedules and prepare for the future. There is wisdom in planning ahead. But sometimes we can quietly begin to believe that because we have made plans, we are ultimately in control. Then something happens that we could never have planned for.
It might be something happening in the natural world, but it can just as easily be something deeply personal: an unexpected diagnosis, the loss of a job, financial difficulty, disappointment, bereavement or a future that suddenly looks nothing like the one we imagined.
When the things we thought were secure begin to shake, an important question emerges: Where do we turn, and what do we hold onto?
The psalmist asks this very question in Psalm 121:1-2: “I lift up my eyes to the mountains -
where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.” Notice where the psalmist finds confidence. His help comes not merely from someone stronger than himself, but from “the Maker of heaven and earth.”
The God to whom we turn is the God who made the very creation before which we feel so small. When creation reminds us of our weakness, Scripture points us beyond creation to its Creator.
The illusion of control
Yet surrendering control does not come naturally to us. We like to feel that our lives belong entirely in our own hands. We want to know what will happen, when it will happen and how it will happen. Even when circumstances are clearly beyond our control, we can continue grasping for something that will make us feel secure.
Why? Perhaps because acknowledging our limitations means admitting that we are not self-sufficient. It means recognising that there is Someone greater than us.
This struggle is not new. From the beginning, humanity has been tempted to live independently of God - to determine good and evil for ourselves and to behave as though we are the masters of our own lives (Genesis 3:5-6). At its heart, sin is not only the wrong things we do; it is also our refusal to trust and depend upon the God who made us (Isaiah 53:6; Romans 1:21).
So, we look elsewhere for security. Perhaps we place all our confidence in other people. But they are human beings just like us - limited, fragile and unable to control tomorrow. Perhaps we put our security in money, possessions, careers, status or success. Yet Jesus warns us not to store up treasures on earth, “where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal” (Matthew 6:19).
The things of this world are temporary. They can change, disappear or disappoint us. God does not.
The Rock beneath our feet
Scripture repeatedly describes God as a rock because He is steady when everything else is uncertain. David declares in Psalm 18:2: “The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge.”
That does not mean trusting God guarantees that nothing difficult will ever happen to us. Christianity does not promise a life untouched by suffering, uncertainty or loss. Jesus Himself told His disciples plainly, “In this world you will have trouble.” But He did not end there. He continued, “But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). Our hope, therefore, is not that we will somehow gain enough control to prevent every storm. Our hope is that Christ remains Lord in the middle of the storm.
Jesus gives us a beautiful picture of this at the end of the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 7:24-27). He describes two people building houses. One builds on rock and the other on sand. The rain falls, the streams rise and the winds beat against both houses. The difference is not that one house avoids the storm. The storm comes to both. The difference is what they are standing on
That is the question for each of us: when the storm comes, what are we standing on?
A God we can trust
Trusting God is not blind optimism. Christians have a reason to believe that the God Who holds creation is also good. We see His love most clearly at the cross.
God did not remain distant from the suffering and brokenness of this world. In Jesus Christ, He entered it (John 1:14; Hebrews 4:15). Christ suffered, died and rose again so that sinful humanity could be reconciled to God (Romans 5:10; 2 Corinthians 5:18-19). The cross assures us that the One in whose hands we place our lives is the One who has already demonstrated the depth of His love for us (Romans 8:32; 1 John 4:10).
As Paul writes, “He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all - how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?” (Romans 8:32). Paul’s words remind us that our confidence in God does not depend on understanding everything He allows to happen. It rests on what He has already shown us about His character.
The cross is the ultimate assurance that God loves us, even when our circumstances are confusing, painful or beyond our control. Paul gives us this wonderful assurance: “neither death nor life... neither the present nor the future... nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:38-39). The very creation that can remind us of how small and powerless we are can never separate us from the love of its Creator.
And this is where faith becomes more than simply believing that God exists. Faith means entrusting ourselves to Him when we cannot see what comes next (Hebrews 11:1; Proverbs 3:5-6). It means accepting that although we do not control tomorrow, we know the One who does (Matthew 6:34; Isaiah 46:10). Hebrews 13:8 tells us that “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” Our circumstances may change. People may change. The things we once considered secure may disappear. But Christ does not change.
And we do not face life’s troubles alone. Jesus has given us the Holy Spirit, our Comforter and Helper, who remains with us and strengthens us in our weakness (John 14:16-17; Romans 8:26). Even when life becomes uncertain, God’s presence does not disappear (Deuteronomy 31:8; Hebrews 13:5).
Final thoughts
So, perhaps the moments that remind us how little control we really have can also remind us where our security was always meant to be. Not in ourselves. Not in other people. Not in possessions, plans or circumstances that can change overnight. But in God.
Dear reader, when the ground beneath you feels uncertain - whether literally or figuratively - hold onto the One who does not move. We may not know what tomorrow will bring, and we cannot control everything that happens around us. But we can know the God who holds tomorrow.
His love has been demonstrated at the cross. His victory has been secured through the resurrection. His Spirit is with us today. And His character does not change. When everything else feels uncertain, He remains our solid rock.
