This Week, God Met Me in a Mumford & Sons Song — “Malibu”
Still Learning to Trust Beneath His Wings
If you've read my last couple of posts, you know I've been sitting with this idea of trust and understanding.
I keep coming back to Proverbs 3:5:
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.”
I know that verse in my head.
But sometimes my heart lags behind.
And apparently, God isn't finished talking to me about it, because this week He met me in a Mumford & Sons song.
I love Mumford & Sons. I've written about their music before because every once in a while, they put words around something my heart has been trying to say. This one may have made my top ten.
There are things my heart knows about walking with Jesus that I don't always know how to put into words. Somehow, this song did.
So I wanted to pull out the lyrics that spoke most deeply to me and share why each one felt so familiar, because together, they reminded me of what my walk with Jesus has actually looked like.
Not perfect faith.
There has been doubt. Weakness. Fear. Falling behind. Dry seasons. Valleys. And plenty of struggling to let go of things I thought I had already surrendered.
But woven through all of it has been Someone leading, waiting, staying, restoring, and continually giving me a place to come back to.
And as I listened to these words, I kept thinking:
This is Jesus.
Not because I understand everything.
But because this is who He has shown Himself to be when I don't.
“In all my doubt… in all my weakness… can You lead?”
Yes.
That is the Jesus I've experienced.
Sometimes I think we get the spiritual walk backwards. We think we need to doubt less, believe harder, understand more and get ourselves together before we come to Him.
There is a story in Mark 9 that I come back to because, if I'm honest, I understand the father's struggle.
He brings his child to Jesus desperate for Him to heal him. He wants to believe. He does believe. But there is still a part of him that is struggling.
And instead of hiding that struggle from Jesus, he says:
“I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” — Mark 9:24
I love the honesty in that plea.
I believe You, Jesus.
But I need Your help believing You.
I understand that prayer more than I'd like to admit.
There are times I know who Jesus is. I know what Scripture says. I can look back over my life and see His faithfulness, and still find myself struggling to trust Him with what is right in front of me.
And what I love most about this story is how Jesus responds.
He meets the father in the struggle.
He doesn't shame him for the unbelief mixed in with his belief. He doesn't tell him to come back when his faith is stronger.
He meets him right there.
Maybe that's why these lyrics spoke so deeply to me.
In my doubt. In my weakness. Can You still lead me?
I can bring Jesus both.
My belief and my unbelief.
My trust and my questions.
My faith and the part of my heart that's still afraid.
And sometimes my prayer can simply be:
Jesus, I believe. Help the part of me that is struggling to believe.
Maybe that's trust too.
“I fall behind… but like You promise, You wait for me.”
Oh, how I know this one.
I fall behind. I get distracted. I try to take control. Sometimes I run ahead of God trying to figure everything out, and sometimes I get tired and lag behind.
Yet Jesus calls Himself the Good Shepherd.
“I am the good shepherd.” — John 10:11
Religion can make us feel like God is somewhere ahead saying, Keep up. Try harder. Do better.
Jesus says:
“Come to me… and I will give you rest.” — Matthew 11:28
He meets doubters. He restores people who failed Him. He goes looking for the one.
He doesn't say try harder.
He says:
Come closer.
“And I feel a spirit move in me again…”
Again.
I love that word.
My walk with Jesus hasn't been one long spiritual high. There have been dry seasons when prayer felt different and God seemed quieter.
But I'm learning that quiet doesn't mean absent.
Dry doesn't mean abandoned.
“Restore to me the joy of your salvation.” — Psalm 51:12
Sometimes He restores something in us through Scripture. A conversation. Standing beside a creek.
Or apparently, a Mumford & Sons song.
Something stirs and your heart whispers:
There You are.
And maybe He's been there all along.
“I don't know how it took so long to shed this skin… live under the shadow of Your wings.”
This may be the line that found the deepest place in me.
What is the skin I'm still trying to shed?
Maybe part of it is my need to understand.
To connect every dot.
To know why.
To figure out what God is doing before I can relax into trusting what God is doing.
And then comes this beautiful picture:
Live beneath the shadow of His wings.
Scripture says:
“He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge.” — Psalm 91:4
I can't get that image out of my mind.
A little bird tucked beneath its mother's wings during a storm isn't trying to understand the storm.
It doesn't know why the wind is blowing.
It doesn't know when the rain will stop.
It just knows where to go.
Maybe that's trust.
Not finally understanding everything.
Just knowing where to go when I don't.
Maybe that's some of the skin I'm still shedding, the belief that I need an explanation before I can have peace.
I haven't completely shed it.
I'm still learning.
But maybe Jesus is gently reminding me:
You don't have to understand the storm to know where your shelter is.
“I'm still afraid…”
I love that fear shows up again.
Because that's real.
We can surrender something on Monday and be worrying about it again by Wednesday.
David wrote:
“When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.” — Psalm 56:3
Not if.
When.
Maybe fear doesn't mean faith has disappeared.
Maybe trust is what I choose to do with my fear.
I bring it back to Him.
Again.
“Walking through the valley was what brought me here.”
This one hit me.
There are valleys in my life I would never have chosen. And I don't believe we need to put a pretty spiritual bow around painful things.
Some things are simply heartbreaking.
But I can say this:
Some of the deepest places I've known Jesus were places I desperately wanted Him to get me out of.
“Even though I walk through the darkest valley… You are with me.” — Psalm 23:4
There it is again.
Not explanation.
Presence.
Maybe walking through the valley really was part of what brought me here.
Not because the valley was good.
But because He was there.
“You are all I want… You're all I need.”
And maybe this is where the whole song lands for me.
After the doubt.
The weakness.
Falling behind.
The dry season.
The fear.
The valley.
The struggle to shed the old skin.
Him.
This song reminded me why, after all these years, I would choose Jesus again and again.
Not because I understand everything.
I don't.
Not because I never doubt or fear.
I do.
Not because I've learned to trust perfectly.
I haven't.
But I know something about the One I'm learning to trust.
He meets me in my doubt.
He leads me in my weakness.
He waits when I fall behind.
He breathes life into dry places.
He walks with me through valleys.
And He gives me somewhere to rest when I still don't understand.
Maybe trust isn't finally having enough answers.
Maybe it's knowing where to go while I'm still asking the questions.
Back to Jesus.
Back beneath His wings.
The doubt can still be there.
The fear can still rise.
The valley can still be part of the story.
And somehow...
Peace can be there too.
Not because I finally understand.
But because I'm learning where to rest when I don't.
Beneath the shadow of His wings.
