o trust. It's funny, or not so funny, that I should be writing on this subject of trust. I just found out that someone I trusted stabbed me in the back. I feel a sort of crushing depression right now, but I can't help thinking of Jesus, who knows betrayal much better than I do.

I think of how I have let Him down, and my self-pity turns to empathy. In my grief at a shattered bond of trust I take solace in the arms that were nailed open as a result of one great collective act of betrayal on the part of the human family. We betrayed the very One who died so that we would have a trustworthy Savior! A song lyric of mine comes to mind: "The very eyes that watched Him die were by the Savior lit. The very hands that drew the blood could kill because of it." Oh, my soul, do you want sympathy because someone has broken trust? Look to Jesus, broken for you. And not just for you, but by you.

As a result of this recent betrayal I feel cynical. I would like to hope that there's someone out there whom I can trust, but I wonder. This person was once a friend of mine, someone I had confidence in. I realize now that they aren't the person I thought they were. I wonder, Was I deceived, was I stupid, or was I both? Did they pull the wool over my eyes, or did I? Regardless of who is to blame, I am filled with distrust in my ability to form trusting relationships, both because of my bad judgment and the slim pickin's of trustworthy people. Are love and friendship a game of Russian roulette? Is it impossible to know which relationship will bless our heart and which will blow our mind?

I suppose I should just believe that "it is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in princes" (Ps. 118:9, NIV). I should just assume that there is no mortal soul in whom I can place confidence. But there is a problem with leaving it here. The human heart has an irrepressible drive to form bonds with other human hearts. When it comes to love hunger-I say this reverently, now-God isn't enough. He Himself told us that "it is not good that man should be alone" (Gen. 2:18, NKJV) and that we should "be devoted to one another in brotherly love" (Rom. 12:10). It's impossible to have these God-ordained love bonds without trust. So even though it often backfires, it's a natural part of being human and an imperative part of being Christian to engage in the very risky business of building trust.

I've solved the problem of whether I should keep trying to find trustworthy friends. I should. God has commanded it. I have also solved the problem of whether I can expect them to fail me. I can. God has predicted it.

This seems crazy, doesn't it? Is God lining us up like little ducks in a row and giving us the marching orders to "love one another," only to tell us when we come to Him with our broken hearts that we should not have trusted anyone to begin with?

No. He is asking us to march into the combat zone of human relationships with tools for rebuilding the trust that we might very well break. The tools are the God-given means of accomplishing the task of building and rebuilding the bonds that He designed us for. God has given clear instructions on rebuilding relationships that we have damaged. Using those tools is part of our intensive course in God-centered bonding that will someday lead us to the place that we don't need them anymore. Until then relational repair comes in several phases.

1. Valuing. The first step in rebuilding a broken bond is valuing the bond enough to invest the time and psychological energy necessary to repair it. The most "conservative" Christian should conserve relationships with as much care as they guard standards. "Liberal" Christians should be as free with conciliatory love as they are with tolerance.

Bonds of trust are at the top of a true believer's priority list-higher than money, status, or even social comfort. People who hop from relationship to relationship, leaving hard feelings behind and making no effort to rebuild them, are spiritually adulterous and will someday reap within themselves the seeds of alienation that they have nourished. Those who treat relationships with utmost care will engage in the "ministry of reconciliation" (2 Cor. 5:18), which was begun by God in Christ when He reconciled "the world to Himself" (verse 19, NKJV).

2. Approaching. Conflict between people builds up a psychological tension that demands release. If we don't talk the matter out discreetly one-on-one, we will eventually "dump" on a third party. This will lead to the rapid complicating of difficulty as one broken trust leads to another.

Whether we are on the active or passive end of a hurt, we are called to approach the one we are alienated from. Jesus said, "If your brother sins, go and show him his fault in private" (Matt. 18:15, NASB). He also said, "If you are presenting your offering . . . and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your offering . . . ; first be reconciled to your brother, and then come and present your offering" (Matt. 5:23, 24, NASB).

This is the most difficult step in the process. It takes tremendous moral courage to talk frankly with someone about an offense, for we are opening ourselves up to humiliation. To withdraw in resentment or lash out in rage are equally counterproductive. Going in the spirit of Christ with a desire to heal will bear fruit. The outcome will not always be the rebuilding of the bond, for the other party has a free will and may fail to respond, but we will inevitably be learning the precious lesson of what it is to lay one's heart on the chopping block for love's sake.

3. Assessing. Once two disaffected parties have expressed enough value in each other to sit down and talk calmly, they can assess the damage that took place. Usually there was wrong on both sides. Both parties then have the opportunity to see how their actions affected the other person. With that, specific apologies can be made. Sometimes a third party is necessary to allow this process to go smoothly, especially if there is a longstanding conflict (see Matt. 18:16).

4. Carrying through. Some efforts at reconciliation are ruined in the follow-through stage. As with serving a tennis ball, where your racket goes after the hit is as important as the hit itself. In more spiritual terms, true repentance leads to reform. A change of spirit and behavior will naturally follow deep reconciliation.

If offense comes again, remember that Jesus said we should forgive "seventy times seven" (Matt. 18:22). When we "close probation" on a relationship, we fail to pass along God's long-suffering toward us. Haven't we all been the source of His prolonged distress? Didn't we collectively crucify Him? He tells us that the wounds in His hands were received from "friends" (see Zech. 13:6). We eternally wounded Him, and He still called us friends. This speaks volumes about our need to seek to reconcile with even those who have driven emotional spikes into us.

Rebuilding trust can be like extending a caring hand into a scorpion pit. Yet Jesus has endured 6,000 years of continually broken trust at our hands, and He still hasn't lost hope that someday the bond will be secure. God promises to mold a people into His image, causing us to "follow the Lamb wherever He goes" (Rev. 14:4, NKJV). Those who follow the Lamb will reflect His self-giving, and egos will be willing to die when a relationship is at stake. Then finally we will be able to trust one another. To Trust Again

I've just written as someone who had been wronged, and listed things that would be required of the wrongdoer in order for me to trust them again. As I finished up these suggestions it hit me: I have hurt people, and I need to help them trust me again. So here's the flip side-and what lessons I learned from my experience as the betrayer.

There are at least 20 well-known Bible stories that involve betrayal, and only three of them (that I know of) end with trust being rebuilt. The happy-ending stories are about Jacob and Esau, Joseph and his brothers, and Jesus and Peter. I love these stories because they end with tears, hugging, and humbled pride. It's so good to know that God can heal what we break.

Unfortunately, it doesn't happen as often as it should.

What is trust, that it is so precious, so fragile, and so rare?

First, let's say what trust is not. Trust is not forgiveness. Forgiveness can be one-sided, given freely to the undeserving. When I wrong you, you may forgive me whether I see my wrong or not. Trust, on the other hand, is two-sided. The building of trust demands the cooperation of two parties. In order for you to trust me, you need to have some evidence that I am trustworthy.

And while you should forgive me if I wrong you, you should not automatically trust me again. You need to use your God-given sensibilities to avoid letting the offense recur. God requires you to forgive me freely, but He doesn't require that you trust me again without intelligent reason. He Himself said we should be wise as serpents. Sometimes we are wise as doves instead.

If victims of abuse understood the difference between forgiveness and trust, many of them would be protected from repeated suffering. So many abusers use the ploy "If you were a real Christian, you would forget what I did in the past." Using guilt, they convince their victims that Christianity requires a certain stupidity about wrong that has been done. Once the victim has "forgotten" the past, they are ready for the next assault. How much better if the abused would say, "I forgive you, but since you've given me no evidence that you have changed, I can't stay near you. I respect myself and you too much to let you hurt me again and again."

Trust is, by definition, a "confidence or faith in a person or thing." Confidence in God is built upon the evidences of His character. The same is true of people. Generally, you make yourself vulnerable only as you see proof that this is a safe thing to do. Trust is built day by day, experience by experience. After I have proved myself to be trustworthy, you have a certain confidence in me. Challenges may come, but the foundation is firm.

But sometimes this process goes terribly awry. Let's say I have betrayed you. What happened? Maybe you opened up too fast, assuming that I was safer than I really was. Maybe I was an expert in the art of deception, using charm and smooth talking to gain access to you for my own selfish gain. However, you were misled, you took the armor off your heart and opened it up to flying arrows. Pow! You were struck and started bleeding. Outraged, shocked, you crawled away.

Then what? Time passed; emotions regulated. The sting subsided a bit, and you stopped dwelling on the problem. Still, every time you see me now, a flutter of adrenaline raises your blood pressure. You don't hate me, but you don't know how to be comfortable around me either. By God's grace you have forgiven me, but your feelings are still raw, and you can't look me in the eye. Underneath the rubble of hurt, though, there is still a small flicker of hope that our relationship can be restored. Trust comes harder the second time around, but with patience it can come. What can bring it about? There are several phases to the healing process.

1. Recognition. I must recognize what I did.

Joseph's brother Judah was the one responsible for Joseph's being sold into slavery. During Joseph's absence, Judah passed through his own dark night of the soul and saw himself for what he was. By the time the brothers went to Egypt for grain, Judah was a changed man. When Joseph threatened to keep Benjamin as a slave, Judah said, "Please let your servant remain instead of the lad as a slave to my lord, and let the lad go" (Gen. 44:33, NKJV).

2. Responsibility. I must take responsibility for what I did.

There are reasons I do hurtful things, but liberation comes only when I realize that provocation does not constitute an excuse. Some people defer blame for wrongdoing to others or to circumstances. No healing can take place while this continues.

In the story of Jacob and Esau, Rebekah had instigated Jacob's great deception in stealing Esau's birthright. Jacob did not use this as an excuse, though, for on the night of wrestling he saw God-and himself-face to face. What a beautiful scene it was when Jacob "bowed down to the ground seven times" (Gen. 33:3, NASB) in humility before Esau, who "ran to meet him and embraced him . . . and they wept" (verse 4, NASB).

3. Repentance. I must experience repentance, defined as "godly sorrow," for what I did (2 Cor. 7:10, NKJV).

Repentance is a sadness for sin that focuses on God and others rather than on myself. Peter's remorse was based on what he did to Christ, while Judas' sorrow was because of the consequences of sin to himself. Peter recovered; Judas killed himself. True repentance is a matter of life and death.

Peter looked into the eyes of Christ after his expletive-laden denial and saw pity and sorrow. He stumbled out into the night, finding himself facedown where Jesus had prayed in Gethsemane, wishing he could die. That face, that wounded face, would not leave his mind's eye for a moment. He had broken the heart of his best friend. Peter's pride and self-confidence were shattered that night, but he came forth in that broken-but-healed state that only grace can bring about.

4. Reform. True repentance works reform.

If you are to trust me again, I must change. When Joseph purposely put five times as much food before Benjamin as before the other brothers, he was testing them to see if they still had the spirit of envy that they once had toward him. No jealousy manifested itself, and Joseph knew that a change had come (see Gen. 43:34).

5. Reconciliation. The last step I must take is to reconnect with you and seek complete reconciliation.

In Peter's first postdenial encounter with Jesus, he manifested the grace of true contrition. He allowed himself to be subjected to the testing questions Jesus had for him: "Do you love Me, Peter? Do you love Me more than your brothers? Do you still have that superior attitude that led to your fall?" (see John 21:15). Peter pressed through the difficult process of talking the problem out and allowed the One he had hurt to test him. He was forced to address what motivations lay behind the denial and how his mind had been changed. These conversations are not easy, but they are essential.

Though you have been wounded, please don't slam the door on the possibility of healing. I probably feel horrible for what I have done, but I lack the moral courage to admit it. If you will, through loving confrontation, help me take the first steps of recognition and responsibility, God will take it from there and lead me to repentance, reform, and reconciliation. No, you don't have to let me walk on you, but for Jesus' sake, hope for the seemingly impossible. We have all broken trust with God, and He has continued to seek to rebuild it. If He can keep the door open for 6,000 years, certainly we can keep it open for threescore and ten.

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Jennifer Jill Schwirzer, a wife, mother, author, songwriter, and musician, writes from Wyndmoor, Pennsylvania.