Holy Surrender

Dear God. Your ways are higher than mine. Your plans are perfect. You don’t make mistakes. You follow through. You don’t do things half way. You plan big and you work big. Even the tiniest of things are noticed by you. After all, you know the number of hairs on my head. You know the number of days that I’ll live. 

But there are things about you that I don’t understand. If I’m being honest. And that’s what you ask of me. Honesty. 

You aren’t lazy, God. By no means would I call you lazy. After all, you created the heavens and the earth. You created animals and sea life. You planted the trees. Fruits. Vegetables. Flowers. You hung the stars, the moon and the sun. You parted large bodies of waters. You created day and night. And the four seasons. All in seven days.

You created man and woman. You gave us a mind to think and reason. You gave us a heart to love and be loved. You gave us emotions to feel and embrace. You gave us five senses to experience the most of life. Taste. Touch. Hearing. Seeing. Smelling. It’s a blessing to be able to experience the natural pleasures of life. Things we take for granted.

You’re everywhere. At all times. You see everything. You hear everything. You know everything. You know everybody. You are busy. But you’re not a busybody.

So there. All of that. You are not lazy. You are undeniably creative. Your imagination goes beyond my wildest imagination. 


We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith. Because of the joy awaiting him, he endured the cross, disregarding its shame. Now he is seated in the place of honor beside God’s throne. Hebrews 12:2


But here’s the thing. Your timing. Sometimes you’re slow to act. When I need something, I think I need it now. And you see my need. Your vision has never blurred. Your hearing has never dulled, so I know you hear me. What I don’t understand is why you don’t answer right when I ask. Oh. I get it. You have patience. You see the big picture, when all I see is right now. You have my days planned. You have my life planned. Don’t I get a say in anything? Is it your way or the highway? 

Oh. That’s how you roll. I knew that. But that’s hard. It’s hard to surrender what I want for your perfect will. But if your will is perfect, then why would I doubt you? Why would surrender even be questioned? Why does my will seem so important compared to perfection? Who do I think I am? 

I’m humbled that you love me. That you even know my name. That you call me out of my wandering. My stumbling ways. You call imperfect me to live in your perfect plan.

So I surrender. I give up myself. My wants. My plans. I choose to follow your perfect unknown path. I choose to trust you fully. From this day forward. Death will not part us. It will bring us face to face.

Your holy presence. It’s what I long for. To see your face. To bow in fear and awe at your holy majesty. 

Actively Dying

Actively dying.  It’s a strange idea.  And a stranger act.  Have you seen it, though?  Someone who is actively dying? 

It’s a deathbed scene.  Not the place most people choose to be. 

Internally, the person is reliving their life.  They are working through unresolved issues and situations that happened in their life.  Oh.  It may not be pretty.  It may end tragically.  But people need to resolve issues before they pass on.  Some passings are peaceful.  Others are fraught with anxiety and rehashing of events past.  Some who are actively dying ask for loved ones.  They want to see the person one last time.  Perhaps to hold their hand.  Look them in the eye.  Say some final words.  Then they’re free to leave this earth.  Their final business is finished. 

Others go in peace.  They’ve worked through their unresolved issues long before their last breath.  They’ve forgiven.  Mended fences.  Said their piece.  Let bygones be bygones.  They’re free to go. 

We’re all actively dying from the moment we’re born.  Oh.  We’ve just begun to live.  We haven’t hit our peak.  But we’re dying.  We can’t count our toes.  We can’t even walk.  But we’re dying.  You see.  We’re born to die.  It’s that simple.  It doesn’t matter what happens in life.  It doesn’t matter what we do.  It doesn’t matter how long we live.  We will die.


If any of you wants to be my follower, you must give up your own way, take up your cross daily and follow me. If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake, you will save it. Luke 9:23-24


I find the older I get, the more I’m actively dying.  I have to die to myself everyday.  Every.  Day.  I have to die to my wants.  My dreams.  My goals.  I have to place myself and everything about me in God’s hands every day.  I die to myself.  It isn’t my way that I want.  It’s God’s way. 

I have to make peace with my mistakes.  My attitudes.  My words that should not have been spoken. 

In my actively dying state, I need to forgive those who have hurt me.  I need to mend fences where there are tears.  I must work on resolving issues that still cause me to lose my breath.

The dying to myself is sometimes painful.  The letting go of my will. The tearing down of my gods. The softening of my stubborn ways. Oh. The pain is real.

When a rose bush is pruned, part of the branch is cut off. Left useless so the stronger, fuller branches can grow and produce more fruit. The same goes with the pruning of my stubborn soul.  I must allow God to cut off my dead and useless branches. Then he can prune the branches that are bearing fruit to produce even more. I must be willing.