I Surrender

Central Massachusetts

2019 is going down in flames over here at the Andrews’ house. Honestly, the last eight weeks have been a slow burn. It figures though, because I chose a word for the upcoming year and that word is surrender. I knew in my gut that was an iffy word to run with — because I might just be tested on how serious I am about it and whether or not I’m really willing to surrender.

And by surrender, I mean let go, take my hands off, rest, trust, move forward one step at a time with just the little bit of light we have for putting one foot in front of the other. It means I don’t get to have a perfect plan or absolute control as I would like. It means trusting the heart of my Abba Father when he sometimes feels every bit as far away as heaven is from earth. Surrender means keeping a soft heart and open arms when hard things happen and nothing makes sense anymore. I’m not good at any of this.

I like yes and no answers. Black and white are my favorite colors — no shades of gray or uncertainty muddying the already too-deep waters. But that isn’t how this chapter of the story is unfolding.

So as the last couple days of this year and decade come to a close, I’m just going to write it down as an Ebenezer for future days — that yes, I surrender.

I surrender knowing the answers.

I surrender seeing the path ahead.

I surrender my time, energy, and resources.

I surrender the fruit of my labor — or the lack thereof.

I surrender the people I love and the work only God can do in them.

I surrender being in control.

I trust that God not only knows, but knows better. That he loves me and wants to do good things — in his way and time. So when I stumble and forget in the days ahead, when I want to keep a death grip on the fraying threads, God help me to remember that I surrender 2020 to you. You’ve got this. You’ve got me. And knowing that, I can confidently take that first step out into the dark. Someday, I’ll see those steps from the other side, the chapter in context to the whole book. . . until then.

Add a comment...

Your email is never published or shared. Required fields are marked *