I am called to Surrender

I am Called to Surrender


“Whoever seeks to keep his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life will preserve it.”  ~Luke 17:33, NASB

Letting go to find safety. Sounds off, doesn’t it?

My husband and I recently took our four kids to the YMCA of the Rockies (we love that place) for a family getaway. Among the many fun activities they have, the rock wall was the highlight this year, because they’d installed a new, three-story, more challenging contraption. All six of us were eager to give it a go.

Though it’s been awhile, I have been rappelling before, so I was more concerned with the climbing up part than the going down. But along with the new wall, the Y had installed auto belays. No problem, I thought. I climbed to the top, slapped the auto-machine, and started to lean back for the ride down. Uh, except it didn’t catch. With my right fingertips still in contact with the wall, I curled my fist and jerk myself back to safety.

“It’s okay,” the instructor called from the floor. “You’ll free fall for less than a second, and then it’ll catch, you’re just gonna have to trust it.”

Yikes. Did I mention that I’m afraid of heights? Seriously, I am. I like adventure, and I don’t want to live in fear, so I push myself to do these things, but truly, I’m wet-your-pants afraid of heights. Free fall? Even for a second? You’ve got to be kidding me.

But there wasn’t another option.

I drew a long breath–quite possibly my last, I thought, closed my eyes . . . And let go.

My heart wound up somewhere in my neck for that half a second before the belay caught, but then the slack gained resistance and I was in a controlled rappel down that three-story drop.

Surrender is a bit like that, I think. Letting go, trusting that God has control even when I don’t is kind off like leaning back into that free fall. But it’s what He’s asked of me. There are some places I get to climb–to participate in His plan. But there are others, like stuff with my kids, situations at church or work, where I don’t have grip on any of it. But God does.

In theses moments, I hear him whisper, “You’re just gonna have to trust me.”


Note: Susan will be back with us in a week or so. She’s busy painting and packing as she prepares to move. Please join me in praying for her and her family as they dive into a new adventure.






I have been offered peace

I Have Been Offered Peace: A Joint Post

You will keep in perfect peace the mind that is dependent on You, for it is trusting in You.  Trust in the Lord forever because in Yah, the Lord, is an everlasting rock!  Isaiah 26:3-4 HCSB

From Susan

I am burdened with a weighty issue today.  Perhaps, by the time you see these words, dawn will have broken and my situation will have resolved itself.  But, in the moment that my fingers strike these keys, all seems … murky.

Jen and I take turns picking weekly topics for this blog.  This week, mired in my difficulty, I chose: “I Have Been Offered Peace.”  Notice that I didn’t title it “I Have Peace,” because quite honestly, for most of the past few days, that would be a lie.  I haven’t had any peace at all.  Have you ever been there? 

But my lack of peace has not been because God did not offer it.  Indeed, Jesus came to earth with the title “Prince of Peace.”  The Bible is full promises of peace – that internal tranquility that transcends circumstances.  But peace is conditional.  It requires that I choose to trust God, and it is withheld as long as I am not doing so.

These verses in Isaiah tell me I can achieve peace if I put my mind on God’s rock-solid, eternal character. If I discipline my thoughts to trust Him, I will have peace. Ah, but a mind is wily thing to discipline!

From Jen

When peace like a river attendeth my way

When storms, like the sea billows blow

Whatever my lot, thou has taught me to say

It is well, it is well with my soul

I’m a little baffled how Horatio G. Spafford was able to pen these words. The man knew turmoil. He knew storms. He knew devastation. And yet he wrote “it is well.”

No, not just it is well. It is well with my soul. I’m guessing Spafford had grasped onto the peace Christ had offered. Jesus didn’t promise placid circumstances. He offered peace—and not as the world gives. Soul peace, rooted deep, anchored in the unchangeable nature of God. It is there, in His hand. But I have to put mine in His and stay there to take hold of such a peace.

While it’s mind-blowing to think of a man penning this beloved hymn as he grieved the death of his children, it’s also incredible to think that I have been offered the privilege to hold the very hand of God.

If only I would hang on. Wily discipline, indeed.