I just returned last week from an amazing trip doing music ministry at LA Congress in Anaheim. While I was performing at the World Library Publications booth, I introduced my song, "Serenity" based on the Serenity prayer (and available on iTunes *wink*) as a song about surrender and letting go and submitting to/following God's will. The words to the refrain are
"Lord give me the serenity to stay where I am,
the courage to take another step,
and the wisdom to know I can't do either without You."
After I finished the song, a woman approached me, holding my CD's, and said, "Was that song called, 'Let Go'?" And I said, "No, that's a different song." She said, "I thought you said this song is about letting go?"
I had to laugh. A lot of my songs are about surrender, letting go... releasing my hold on things I can't control! It is an ongoing theme in my life. (She bought both CD's, so maybe we have something in common!)
Above daily chores, health, stress, or responsibilities, I think it's hardest for me to let people go.
"I love you and you are Mine" is one of my favorite lines from a song, spoken from Scripture. It is so difficult - near impossible for me - to say, "You love him/her and he/she is Yours."
I don't have any trouble at all with "You love him/her." It's the "Yours" part that I have trouble with.
My son. My daughter. My husband. My mother. My father. My sister. My brother. My friend.
Mine, Mine, Mine.
Not. Yours. At least we can share responsibility, ok, Lord?
When our loved ones are sick, dying, leaving the faith, or making self-destructive choices, our instinct is to grab on to them, to grasp and cling to maddening, smothering affect. We feel unsettled, hurt, frantic, every muscle tense, trying to figure out what WE can do. What I can do. And we feel like failures if we can do nothing. We feel powerless and helpless. We would die for that person to be healed, to turn back to the faith, or to choose a better life for themselves.
But Someone already did die for this person to be healed, turn back, choose life.
Jesus. Jesus, You died before I breathed my first breath. You died for my loved ones before they opened their eyes in this world. Jesus.
Why can't I trust? Why can't I know beyond my mind and deep down to the core of my being that God loves this person more than I do and is pursuing them more than I can? Why is it so hard to remember that this person's healing and salvation is not in my hands? If I don't believe these things, then I can't adequately say that I believe in an all-powerful, all-knowing, all-loving God.
I have to let you go. I have to surrender you.
I don't let you go in the sense that you are hanging from a cliff and I release my hold on your hand, letting you fall to your destruction. Rather, I carry you in my heart and I gently place you in the hands of our Savior who loves you more than I do. All your needs, all your desires, all your questions, all your sickness, all your struggles, everything.
And I let go. You are His child. Not mine. In trusting me with your care, my son, my daughter, my husband, my mother, my father, my sister, my brother, my friend... the Lord has given me great responsibilities. I will love, forgive, care for, and pray for you. But above all, the greatest thing I can do for you, is gently place you in our Father's hands who knows your heart more than I ever could and Who can satisfy you more than I am capable.
He loves you, and you are His.
Amen.
