Every honest human being I’ve ever talked to has admitted they are hanging onto something they should let go of. And whether great or small, those things turn into sticking points, for a while, anyway. Perhaps that’s not a big deal for some, but I think that if they hang on to them long enough, whatever it is will become bothersome.
Okay, let me switch back to me, since I’m the only one I can truly talk about with confidence. The honest truth is that if I think for ten seconds, I have no trouble finding something I’m hanging on to. Something I’m not quite ready to surrender. Even right now. And because God is still perfecting my character, every time I surrender a defect to Him, He reveals another.
Mind you, I don’t despair about all that anymore. I just accept it as part of the process He uses so I don’t feel overwhelmed by looking at everything that needs to change at once! There’s always something I need to surrender—even when I’m not aware of it. And honestly, it’s rarely easy, unless I’m sick of it. But while I may struggle with willingness, I am committed to doing just that.
Surrender is what my life is all about. I surrender to God, and He solves my problems. I surrender to His will, and He takes me places. I surrender my pride, and He gives me humility. I surrender my alcoholism—and He keeps me sober.
So why is it so hard to surrender? And why does the stuff I finally let go of have claw marks all over it?
Well, I’ve thought about that. A lot. And about the only explanation that makes sense is that I was born with the desire to be in control. So much of what goes on in this world is about the illusion of control. I push a button, and my car drives itself (for 30 seconds, anyway). My voice commands can send texts and emails. My watch and phone can fill in my passwords, buy things, and even send texts via satellite. Yes, I’m in control … until I’m not.
Society insists that I can control my emotions, my finances, my boundaries. I think I can control my reactions, my body language—even my sobriety by “just saying no.”
I wasn’t taught all that growing up. I picked it up along the way. And yet, like the kid that yells, “I got it! I got it!” as the ball comes his way, when it slips through my glove, my face drops and I mumble, “I don’t got it ….”
Truth is, I do a terrible job of controlling things. And as a friend told me once, “Anything you have to control is out of control already!”
How often I’ve admitted that I’ve been impatient, angry, afraid, or complacent, and said, “I really need to work on that ….”
When I hear that familiar admission, I often grin and think to myself, Yeah. Let me know how that works for you! It absolutely cannot work for me when it comes to my character defects. Because if it did, I wouldn’t need God!
So how do I get rid of the behavior I know is contrary to God’s will for me? What does it take to become willing to ask God to remove a character defect from my life? Sometimes I pray and pray for God to remove it, but it doesn’t seem to go away! Oh how I can relate to the Apostle Paul, who wrote: “But I see another law in my members, warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which is in my members. O wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?” (Romans 7:23–24).
Becoming entirely willing to surrender is a tedious, difficult, and sometimes very painful process. But recently, while visiting with some recovery folks in Ohio, I heard something that made me smile. It came from an older man with some wisdom to spare.
“You know how a good waiter always seems to know when to clear the plates at your table?” he asked. “Well, we give them cues, really. We put our silverware on the plate—and maybe our napkin, as well. Then we push the plate away slightly, and that’s their sign to whisk it away.”
I smiled as I recalled my own experience in waiting tables. And then came the wisdom.
“Those waiters are actually waiting on us,” he said, “and God is like that, too. He’s not going to take away your plate until you’re done with it, right? And He’s absolutely not going to take away your plate … if you’re still licking it!”
There are times when I pray, plead, or wrestle with something, and God doesn’t seem to move. But I know that while Heaven may be silent, Heaven is not deaf!
I’m beginning to understand that this silence isn’t indifference; it’s invitation. God waits, not because He’s powerless, but because He’s patient. He knows when I’m still clutching what needs to be released, still licking the plate, even though He’s ready to clear it. And in that waiting, He teaches me what surrender really means.
Why do I still lick my plate when He’s offering me a feast? It’s time to let go and let God remove those things which hinder me from serving Him and my fellow man. “O wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? I thank God—through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (Romans 7:24–25).
