“One day, children were brought to Jesus in the hope that he would lay hands on them and pray over them. The disciples shooed them off. But Jesus intervened: ‘Let the children alone. Don’t prevent them from coming to me. God’s kingdom is made up of people like these.’ — Matthew 19:13–15
What was Jesus talking about? I believe he was pointing to something fundamental: the willingness to look for — and see — the love and goodness inside another person, even when it isn’t obvious. That’s the posture behind Agreement 2.
Think of it like the old legal principle: innocent until proven guilty, not guilty until proven innocent. Which one you default to says everything about how you move through your relationships.
To be clear, we’re not talking about earned trust — the kind calibrated to someone’s behavior and track record. Underlying trust is different. It’s a commitment to look for evidence of love and goodness, beneath the letdowns and disappointments, and sometimes, even someone’s worst moments.
Research into what actually makes intimate relationships thrive keeps arriving at the same answer: friendship. Not passion, not compatibility scores, not communication techniques — friendship. The kind of genuine liking and goodwill that makes you want the best for someone simply because you know them and love them. Everything in this chapter — and in all nine agreements — flows from that. Underlying Trust is where it begins.
The question Agreement 2 asks is: Are you willing to extend enough trust to let someone become your friend?
There’s a story about a man who got a flat tire on a quiet country road at about two in the morning. He spotted a farmhouse about half a mile up the road and, hoping to borrow a tire jack, started walking toward it.
“He probably doesn’t even have a jack,” he thought.
A few steps later: “Even if he does, why would he bother lending it to a stranger at this hour?”
By the time he was nearly at the door: “He’s asleep. And even if he’s awake, he’s got his own problems. He doesn’t care about mine.”
He rang the doorbell. A minute later, an old farmer opened the door. Without missing a beat, he blurted out, “Keep your stupid jack!”- and turned around and walked back to his car.
This is what distrust does. It writes the ending before the story even begins.
Underlying Trust, by contrast, says: even when someone seems uncaring or hurtful, I choose to lean toward the possibility of love — not so much because of the abundance of their trustworthiness, but rather, because of the abundance of my trust.
Think of it this way: underlying trust — or distrust — is a large circle around a little dot. The issue you’re dealing with- the dirty dishes, the finances, questions about what’s best for the kids- these are all just the dot in the middle of the circle. The circle is the real issue, not the dot.