Surrendering to God

I have a very hard time with surrender. Though I disdain the typical DisneyLand presentation of Christianity (get in line, bow your head, pray after me, and punch your ticket to happily-ever-after), I struggle to translate the idea of self-abandonment to Christ-centered life into my words, will, and actions. I know that part of the problem is my small view of God. I don't realize just how words-can't-describe his love, grace, truth, and justice actually are. And if I have a small view of the object of my faith, how life-forming, adversity-overcoming, and sustainable can my faith really be?

The true gospel is both a revelation of God's character (*very* good news), and a revelation of our utter need for him (whether acknowledged or not). As I continue to learn how amazing God is, surrender seems to me the only reasonable response. And for us Americans, the nuts and bolts of our surrender is in relying on God's power instead of our own. Here are two ways that come to my mind:

1. I need to have eyes to see the many blessings in every moment, every breath, every person, and every landscape created and sustained by the Creator of the universe. It is through God's power in me and all around me that I live, not of my own design.

2. I need to allow myself to be led into situations where my power is inadequate. How many times have I felt that faint hint of a prompting and instead I brushed it off as uncomfortable, inconvenient, or unimportant? I can think of three instances in my last month.

Grandma Psalm

A phone call can change everything...

Tears jump to my eyes as I hear a dear one share news that my last living grandmother suffered a major stroke this morning during her Bible Study group.

I don't even know why I'm upset; I've never lived with her, never shared more than occasional visits with her. My parents moved away before I was born and my life is separate from hers. And Yet...

She is part of me. She is one of the reasons I am here at all.
She was faithful to her Father God when most of her loved ones turned away. She persevered.
She pressed on, passed on her faith. Her daughter continued on that journey with her. And Then...

Her daughter birthed a daughter, far away from the house she grew up in, far away from the heat and the familiarity of Home...and made a New Home with the same center: Jesus.

I know the gift of this Faith Legacy. I know how important it is to watch others work out their salvation; it builds a strong foundation unawares until it's rocked by unexpected storms and holds fast.

I know this Life is fleeting. I know she is drawing nearer to her Father each day. And it still hits hard...

I know she will soon be Free, but waves of shock and sadness wash over because she was not made to go through this Death. She was made to soar - and she will soon enough.

Again, I see the threads of God's handiwork. Before I knew this news, I read Psalm 90 this morning.

 ¹ Lord, you have been our dwelling place
   throughout all generations.
² Before the mountains were born
   or you brought forth the whole world,
   from everlasting to everlasting you are God.

 ³ You turn people back to dust,
   saying, “Return to dust, you mortals.”
⁴ A thousand years in your sight
   are like a day that has just gone by,
   or like a watch in the night.
⁵ Yet you sweep people away in the sleep of death—
   they are like the new grass of the morning:
⁶ In the morning it springs up new,
   but by evening it is dry and withered. ...

⁹ All our days pass away under your wrath;
   we finish our years with a moan.
¹⁰ Our days may come to seventy years,
   or eighty, if our strength endures;
yet the best of them are but trouble and sorrow,
   for they quickly pass, and we fly away. ...

¹² Teach us to number our days,
   that we may gain a heart of wisdom. ...

¹⁴ Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love,
   that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days. ...

I haven't taken the time to say, Thank You, Grandma; but, I am so grateful for You.

Untether her, Lord, from bondage to a broken, deteriorating body. Fly away, Beloved Dorothy.
I look toward the day when I will sing praises to Our Lord with you.