It probably sounds cliche.
But during last week’s worship service, the words “I surrender all” flashed on the screen, and suddenly I had to stand and raise my hands and actually MEAN the words.
I surrender all.
My, my, my.
They really weren’t mine to begin with. And therein lies the problem.
When the ground shifts underneath you, you tend to grab at things, clinging to whatever you can possess, hoping not to face another loss.
Fear makes you cling too much.
And I’ve been clinging. So tight my knuckles hurt.
And honestly for the first time, as those words of surrender flew from my lips, I tasted freedom. I could honestly say that no matter what happens, I have Jesus, and all will be well. Everything else could fall all around me. My word subtraction could happen at every level. My career could fade into nothing. And I really don’t care.
Jesus + nothing = everything.
And when my hand is open, holding all my everythings, peace embezzles my heart, takes it over but in the gentlest of ways. Realizing the depth of agony Jesus went through to secure my freedom makes all these things I cling to seem insignificant. And knowing He is bigger, stronger, and more capable than me makes it easier to hand off my issues, my things, my ambitions to Him for safekeeping.
The surrendered place is the settled place after all.