Opening Prayer
Lord,
We lift up Your name, in glory and in honor and in power. God, You are so good. Plain and simple yet so unfathomable. God, who is like You? No one is like our God. Though storms rage, my heart rages, but You are good. You are more than words can come close to praising. Lord, be glorified in all we do. Lord, dwell in our minds and hearts. Lord, give us awareness of You. Lord, give us longing for more of You alone.
In Jesus name we pray,
Amen
Introduction
Usually, when I don’t post it’s because I’ve gotten busy, but this time I had prayed for God to lead me to write and I was given multiple inspirations. I wanted to write on so many things, but each time I would sit down and end up writing the entire blog only to scrap it. I didn’t know if the post was only for me to see or if it wasn’t the right post to make.
Then, this Monday late afternoon, I find myself writing with this concept in mind: the Heart of Gethsemane. If you don’t know, Jesus’ last place of prayer before He was taken to the cross was the Garden of Gethsemane. I want to take you there with me because I have been on a journey of understanding more of Jesus. I’m not going to know everything until I meet Jesus face to face, so each moment I uncover more of the heart of my Savior.
Matthew 26:36-46
Surrender
Surrender has been on my mind a lot lately.
I’ve been reading this book “When God Says "No": Facing Disappointment and Denial Without Losing Heart, Losing Hope, Or Losing Your Head” by Elizabeth Laing Thompson, as she takes us through the different lives of Biblical characters that came across God’s almighty “no”. We can see some glimpses of why God says “no” to them, but we will never come close to God’s unfathomable reasoning behind His answers.
I have been struggling with surrender, and I feel bad that I’m so bad at surrendering! I’m frustrated with the fight my flesh puts up like when my dog, Angel, snarls when we’re a little too close to her and her favorite doggie treat. I want my own way. I want my own good. I want good I can understand and touch, but God has given me good that I need to accept without seeing first.
Thompson writes what surrender isn’t to help me and others understand this concept:
“Honestly, I struggle with the way some people use the word surrender. The way they talk, it seems like surrender means we are supposed to achieve a Zen-like state where we no longer want…and no longer feel. Surrender means we are completely, perfectly happy exactly as we are. No wants. No needs. No regrets. No desires for the future.
…
Does surrender to no mean we are supposed to stop desiring those things? That we smile and shrug and say, “That’s okay. God said no, so I don’t even want it anymore”? Honestly? We don’t see that definition -- or that example -- in the Bible. When we read the Psalms, we read heartfelt pleas from unhappy people begging God to change their circumstances. Wondering where He is in the wait. Thanking Him for what He has already given, yes. Maintaining deep respect for His sovereignty, always (or maybe we should say usually). But not giving up on what they’re praying for. Not letting it go until God gives a final no.
We don’t see Jesus facing the cross, shrugging, and saying, “Whatever. I don’t care. I didn’t want to live a long life anyway. Let’s get it over with.” We see Jesus praying all night, bleeding tears.
…
What can we take from this?
It’s okay to ask.
To want.
To need.
To feel.
…
Our goal is not to shut off our feelings and hopes so we can robotically surrender to whatever happens; our goal is surrendered faith. And what is surrendered faith? Surrendered faith is about learning to hold on to conflicting emotions at the same time: hope in one hand, submission in the other. Hope that God can change our situation, but submission if He doesn’t.”
This definition has given me so much clarity and relief. The truth is that as I struggle to surrender, part of me wonders if it’s wrong to still want what I want -- it’s not that I want it more than God or I’m willing to step into disobedience to get it -- but I just have a longing I want God to fulfill.
It’s been hard for me this season. Wondering. Waiting. Watching. Weeping.
Praying. Thanking God. Reading the Word. Sinking into the open arms of community.
Never knowing what or when or how any of this will play out. Each day having to say “Let Your will be done” and practicing surrender each morning my eyes flutter open. My heart can feel gripped in grief while still holding onto the fact that God is still good and God is still in control.
Sadness isn’t Sinful
Just because you’re sad doesn’t mean you think Jesus isn’t enough. Sadness doesn’t mean you lack faith. Sadness isn’t a marker for your inability to trust God. Sadness is a normal, God-given response to the reality of living in this broken world full of struggles, disappointments, and unmet longings. We will live in the “it shouldn’t be this way” until we are reunited with Jesus.
I think about the ways we minimize each others’ sadness as if it’s shameful:
“It wasn’t that bad...”
“If you look at it this way…”
“God’s going to use this…”
“It’s better that it happened this way…”
“At least you still have…”
I can just let people be sad. I can just let me be sad. This is a PSA for me for the times I’ve mouthed off verses and platitudes of “trust God” even with the best intentions for others and myself. I could also be saying things that are completely true. God does love you. God does have a plan and purpose for all this pain. There are still things to be thankful for. Yes, it could’ve been worse. Yes, there are still things to be thankful for.
Yet, I think of how Jesus could have encountered the tears of Mary and Martha mourning the loss of their brother, Lazarus, and rightfully told them to have faith in God, that Jesus was enough, that Lazarus was in heaven now, but Jesus cried with them.
The truth is I still find myself crying. I find myself crying as I write this post. I find myself crying at church. I find myself crying on the way home. I’m tired of policing my grief like it’s an act of disobedience towards God or shaming myself for being too emotional. When I sit down and really take in all that’s happened in the past few months, I encounter the hurt. The pain morphs over time with prayers and God’s continuous loving kindness towards me, but I still ache and hurt.
I ask God if it’ll stop: as if I’m just one more sobbing session away from being fine.
I ask God why I keep feeling sad: as if sadness doesn’t reflect God’s character like happiness does.
I finally ask God for comfort: because I just need someone to cry with me the way only God can. The way only God knows the hopes and dreams died. The way only God understands the fragility of my heart. The way only God can feel my hurt and hold me in it.
I’m sad but I accept that God has allowed me to experience all of this.
I’m disappointed but I will continue to hope in God -- not people or outcomes or situations.
I’m uncertain but I let God be faithful to His promises and plans for my life.
I was talking with one of my best friends, and she said something along the lines of how it is so much more profound to accept God’s will in the midst of our sadness. If I felt happy and didn’t care about the outcome, of course I could surrender and accept God’s will about the situation. It takes a different kind of faith to say that even in the midst of our heartache that God’s goodness has not been dimmed but illuminated.
I don’t know where 2022 will take me, but my life is in the hands of the Maker of Heaven.
My life is still hidden in Christ Jesus.
I am still waiting on God, watching to see what will happen, but I’m not a spectator of my life. I am willingly (and slowly) yielding over the control switch to God. I do my part. All that I can do. All that God has called and equipped me for. I lift my voice and offer my pleas. I offer God all that I am, especially the broken bits. I wake up each day submitting to the plans God has for my life and entering all the doors opened in front of me.
The heart of Gethsemane is knowing that when we were apart from God, God drew close to us. The heart of Gethsemane is that the same spirit of submission that dwelled within Jesus dwells within us. It wasn’t emotionless. It wasn’t sinful when Jesus requested for another way. It was not easy. It was the example Jesus set for us in dealing with our turmoil over what God has allowed or ordained.
I am still believing that God can do all things, but even if He doesn’t, I will not bow down to the gods of anxiety, fear, pride, unforgiveness, or my own will. I wish surrender meant I longer mourn. I wish surrender came with an emotional Happy Meal. Some days are definitely harder than others, but God even uses those moments to meet me where I’m at and whisks me away to green pastures.
I’m a lot of things. A sheep (John 10:1-21). More than a conqueror (Romans 8:31-39). God’s workmanship (Ephesians 2:8–10). Clay being molded by their potter (Isaiah 64:8). I’m also just Grace. I’m also just figuring it out day by day. I’m God’s daughter first and foremost and forever thanks to Jesus (1 John 3:1). So, when I bruise my knees or bump my head into sharp edges or trip over sidewalks, I cry out and my Dad hears me. He helps me to accept what’s happened. He doesn’t just stand off into the distance, but He runs. He rushes over. My God, My Father, My Friend, My Shepherd, and My Beloved. I am never alone. I will never be alone.
In the fire, in the storm, in the pressing -- yes, God is doing something -- but more than that, more than anything, God is with me right here. God is with you. Emmanuel: “God is with us”.
Closing Prayer
Lord, I lift up my life to You.
You alone are worthy, God.
Worthy is Your name, Jesus.
Be exalted now in the heavens as Your glory fills this place.
You alone deserve our praise.
You’re the name above all names.
In Jesus’ name we pray,
Amen
Listen to:
No Longer Slaves (Official Lyric Video) - Jonathan David and Melissa Helser
We Will Not Be Shaken (Official Lyric Video) - Brian Johnson
Another In The Fire (Live) - Hillsong UNITED
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