I glanced around my music classroom at the shiny plastic of the un-chewed nametags, the neat folders, the beautiful stack of white, unused paper. The posters on the walls hung straight, smooth, and unmarked by the fingerprints of curious hands. I knew that in just a few moments, 50 pairs of expectant eyes would land on me and become my little shadows for the year, absorbing all my energy and knowledge and mistakes. I breathed in the last few minutes of summer:
Jesus, I surrender this day to Your will.
When we arrived at the airport in the sweltering August heat, we did something I never do when traveling alone; we sat down and shared a final meal together in the overpriced café. It was a distraction to lighten the gravity of this goodbye. We took our time checking in baggage and walked slowly to security. I asked for two goodbye hugs and she gave three, each squeeze a little tighter, and then I turned away not knowing when or if I would see her in this lifetime again.
Jesus, I surrender my family to Your care.
“Sweetheart, he’s not going to get better. He might not even last the week. I’m on my way to the hospital now.”
I hung up the phone — confused and fearful, and on the wrong side of the world with no possibility of returning in time. Before that conversation, I had been eagerly anticipating my final year in university, when I thought I had the system figured out. Instead, I was about to enter a season of sorrow and loneliness.
Jesus, I surrender my grief to Your comforting hands.
I remember that word etched in my first journal over ten years ago, as I sat in my new room in a new neighborhood on a chilly fall afternoon. It is a word that has stayed with me every autumn since, as a reminder of the humility of new beginnings – new jobs, new cities, new experiences.
When I think of surrender, I picture Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane, about to make the ultimate surrender. It was not a scene of a proud, heroic Savior. Scripture records that Jesus was sorrowful, troubled, and overwhelmed. He fell to the ground as he prayed, three times:
My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will. (Matthew 26:39)
As You will.
As You bring us through the process that draws us closer to You.
As a new season begins, maybe you are surrendering a new schedule to God’s will. Maybe you are starting a new career, or have lost a job, or are in the middle of a project, and you are surrendering your timeline to God. Maybe you are surrendering worry or anger or guilt as you navigate through a situation that just doesn’t make sense.
May we be comforted in knowing that Jesus deeply recognizes the cost of whispering, Your will be done.
May we find peace in knowing that we don’t have to be unfazed, stoic heroes of our situation; we can approach our Father with troubled hearts.
May we be blessed in our surrender to God’s will and righteousness in this season.
How have you experienced a season of surrender? How has God met you in your surrender?Leave a Comment