Let go and let God. Surrender is a precious thing.
Ten-year-old Gabriel, eight-year-old Isaiah and I rode our bicycles along the water. The river’s mood was gentle, and the air held summer’s warmth. Gabriel was in front of me, but he slowed down and rode for a moment near my side.
“Look, Mom, at our shadows!” he said. “They’re so big! Look! They’re huge!”
Gabe moved ahead of me. Our shadows untangled, and soon there was just mine. He was right. The sun, shining from the west, had cast our shadows on the close-cropped lawns. I could see the oversized wheels and fenders and the basket on the front of my bike. And then there was me. Tall and long and bigger than life.
The shadows reminded me of a conversation I’d had the day before with a friend.
I shared about circumstance that brought worry and fear.
“You’re trying to control the situation,” she said after listening patiently. “You’re assuming responsibility that isn’t yours. You need to pull back. Give the circumstance to the Lord.”
Surrender.
I tried to.
Then I grabbed and grasped and wanted to wrestle the situation back under my control. I made myself, my role, bigger than it should be.
Surrender yourself to the Lord, and wait patiently for him. (Psalm 37:7)
As I pedaled along, I thought about surrender. In essence, it’s letting go. Letting myself be smaller and recognizing that the Lord is bigger. It’s a trust issue. It’s putting my fear, my worry and my anxious desperation into His capable hands. Into His capable, merciful, powerful, gracious hands.
Surrendering to the Lord means relinquishing what is precious in order to trust in His purpose and plan.
It’s placing trust in His character. His nature. His sovereign activity in my life and His promise to never leave. It’s lifting the details and the outcome to One who is capable rather than scrambling to solve things on my own.
I began to pray as we moved along the bike path. After months of struggle, the prayer came easy as God’s strong and faithful glory colored the evening sky.
Forgive me, Lord, for trusting in my own strength rather than Yours. Help me to surrender to Your will and Your ways. I trust You and know You’re in control.
“You okay, Mom?” Gabe asked as he held back and pedaled by my side once again.
“I am now,” I said.
Surrender can be a powerful struggle, but when we do, there’s powerful peace.
