Tag Archives: surrender

His Disciple: Surrendered

And Jesus, walking by the Sea of Galilee, saw two brothers, Simon called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea; for they were fishermen. Then He said to them, “Follow Me, and I will make you fishers of men.” They immediately left their nets and followed Him.– Matthew 4:18-20

To follow a rabbi… meant living with the rabbi, sharing life with him and taking part in the rabbi’s whole way of life. A disciple might accompany a rabbi on all his daily routines: prayer, study, debating other rabbis, giving alms to the poor, burying the dead, going to court, etc. A rabbi’s life was meant to be a living example of someone shaped by God’s Word. Disciples, therefore, studied not just the text of Scripture but also the “text” of the rabbi’s life.” – Edward Sri, Into His Likeness: Be Transformed as a Disciple

The life of an early disciple was a life of following close, not at a distance. They weren’t part of a crowd of onlookers. They wore the dust of their rabbi’s feet, and in order to do that, they had to leave their own lives behind.

Peter answered him, “We have left everything to follow you! – Matthew 19:28

I see it when I read the gospels, and again when I read Paul’s letters to the churches. There is a leaving that must happen in order to follow Jesus; a surrendering of my plan for my life, in favor of His. There is no way to read the New Testament and come away thinking that we still get to call the shots. That we decide the when, the what, and the where for our lives. Not if we’re His disciples.

What have I left in order to follow Jesus? This is the question, and part of it I can readily answer. My right to choose where I live and work has been surrendered so that He could put me where He wants me. My desire to walk away when something became too difficult, too painful even, so that I could let Him transform me through the difficult and the painful thing. To teach me to love difficult and painful people (and to realize that sometimes, I am the difficult, painful one). I forgave people I didn’t want to forgive, remained where I didn’t want to be, and left when I didn’t want to go.

But there is always more leaving to do. The temptation to take the reins is ever present, breathing down my neck. The desire to do what I want to do with my remaining years, which would involve laying on a beach everyday, mostly in silence. The thought that I could pick when and where I retire, or whether I even get to retire, is a wonderful thought indeed. But that’s not how following Jesus works.

He leads, I follow, and in that, my heart must reach the place of surrendering all the ‘I wants’ and ‘I needs’ that keep calling for me to do it my way. Surrender, not control, is what I signed up for. A life that pleases Him more than it pleases me.

If it weren’t for my desire to remain close to Him, I would not have made many of the choices I made in my faith journey. I would have lived where I wanted, worked where I wanted, kept only the relationships I wanted, walked away when it got hard, set way more boundaries around me… all of it. But I wanted to follow at His heels, not at a distance. I wanted proximity to Jesus, not just the identifier of “Christian.” And this is still my greatest want. To be near Him. To follow Him, even when it’s hard. He has become and remains my greatest obsession, worth every bit of leaving and surrendering and hard thing I’ve had to do.

Today, I am challenged to look at my life again and ask Him where I am still trying to maintain control. To assess whether I’m still following Him, or if I’ve veered off to follow the many voices I have access to in this life, or even if I’m just simply following myself. Am I still His disciple, or am I just a Christian in the crowd?

It is good to look around at our lives and figure out if we are still following Him, or just acknowldging Him.

Father, help us be honest with You and with ourselves. Turn us, if we have veered off. Call us up if we have fallen behind. Remind us that You, not this earthly life, are our greatest reward, and that You are worthly of our lives laid down. Help us become people who are fully surrendered to You and not to this world or our flesh.

Thanks for reading. See you next time!

my heart in the song

I recently experienced a bit of a traumatic event, which I fully intend to blog about very soon. But it left me fearful and sent me into a seclusion of sorts, even from (especially from) God. So this morning I opened my bible and put on a worship song. And then I was on my knees.

“Here I am, down on my knees again, Surrendering all, Surrendering all…”
 I know. I’ve been here before. I thought “all” meant “all” the last time I surrendered all. So I want to apologize for this white flag, but I can’t. I’m too exhausted. Made weak by my own strength.  I tried to buck up, suck it up, just move forward and move on. I wanted to be a big girl. A grown up. A warrior. Instead, here I am, down on my knees surrendering all. Again.
 “Find me here, Lord as You draw me near, Desperate for You, Desperate for You”
 Are You surprised by my desperation? Shouldn’t I be out moving mountains and slaying darkness with confidence? Shouldn’t there be a bible study or sermon that took hold, preventing me from landing in this place, trying to bat away condemnation for being so desperate? For You. The One I have been avoiding, running from for days, maybe longer. Are You surprised, like me, that my desperation is for You?
 “Drench my soul, as mercy and grace unfold, I hunger and thirst, I hunger and thirst”
 Don’t be thrifty. Not today. I need all You have to give. Mercy. For things done and undone. Said and unsaid. For the second guessing, the what if’s and the why’s. Mercy for the bruises left by my self-loathing. Mix it with Grace. Water that washes it all away, leaving me back on my feet but not far from my knees.
 I know. I should be full by now, because You have poured and poured and poured. But this is me. Panting, hands cupped like a beggar. Begging for more. And in the air around me a question hovers – “Why are you here, begging, again?”, and the implication reeks of shame.

Because I hunger. Because I thirst. Because I know that if I come, He will give. Because what He has never runs out.

 “With arms stretched wide, I know You hear my cry, Speak to me now, Speak to me now.”
 I just need Your voice to say something, anything. Is that ok? Is it ok that my heart is hiding right now, and the only thing that will bring it out is Your voice? Is it ok that all of my desperation, all of my hunger, all of my flag waving on my knees surrender it all again comes down to “speak to me God. Please.”?
 And so I heard, finally. Because He had been speaking all along, but my heart had hands over my ears and my eyes shut tight because I have been afraid. But here on my scratchy carpet with the song playing from the little speakers attached to my old computer, the hands came down,  and I discovered the real fear. The one I hadn’t named.

“I’m with you.”

Three words that spoke many more.

“I am here, not over there waiting for you to get over it. Peace is here, not around the corner waiting for you stop being afraid.  Mercy is here, not over there waiting for you to feel bad enough, sorry enough, or anything enough.  Grace is here, not waiting somewhere else for you to get stronger and braver. Love is still here. Right here.  I am not mad at you, disappointed in you or finished with you.  I am not waiting for you. I am with you.”

Thank You Jesus, for hearing my heart in the song. For knowing what to sing back to me.

“I Surrender” – Hillsong Live

 
 
 

taking the cup

Matthew 26:36-46   Mark 14:32-42   Luke 22:39-46

They were gone now, and the garden was quiet. Jesus had been arrested, His disciples scattered. As for me, I am compelled to remain here, allowing what I had seen and heard to seep into deep places.

His words still hang in the air among the trees…“My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from Me. Yet not as I will, but as You will.”  

“…not as I will, but as You will.”  As I watched Him, the words echo familiar to me. They have flowed easily from me over the years. “Not my will, but Yours be done!” “I just want God’s will for my life.” “Lord, have Your way!” I see Him there, on the ground and I hear my voice speaking out those words. And I see Him there, on the ground sweating blood and I hear my voice. And somewhere inside of me something is tearing. Something hurts. Something that was hidden in darkness is backing away from the light coming in…but it’s too late.

“The words come easy, but there is no battle being waged for them. You say the words, but when your flesh resists you surrender to defeat. You say the words, because they are part of the Christian vocabulary of magic words spoken because they are the ‘right’ thing to say. You say the words, because you believe that My will looks like your will. You say the words. You want My will but you wants yours too. You say the words and then let the cup pass.”

I followed Him here, and He exposed my heart.

in the dirtEverything in me wants to lay on the ground where He had been, to press my cheek into the dirt still wet with His tears and sweat turned to blood. I want to capture it all, this war between flesh and Spirit, and hold it tightly somewhere inside of me. Because I want it to change me.

I listened as He asked for the last time…”if it is possible, may this cup be taken from Me…”. I heard no response. Maybe He did. Maybe His Father spoke words of comfort and strength to Him. Maybe He heard nothing because sometimes the silence of God says everything. Either way, it was done. He took the cup and set His face toward Golgotha. Death for Life. Victory was secured.

I followed Him here and I learned. “Not as I will but as You will” are the words of battle. Jesus didn’t enter Gethsemane and surrender His will so that I wouldn’t have to. He did it so that I could. He overcame so that I could overcome.

Death for life. Not a drink to be sipped. It is a cup to be taken hold of with both hands and swallowed down. It is hard. Agony. Weeping and falling face to the earth in surrender.

It is the prelude to victory.