Letters of Life


Hot Air Ballooning
Letting go. [Image by WIlly Volk via Flickr]

In letting go and letting God, the hardest thing is to let go completely.

I surrender all, I surrender all . . . so we sing, and the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.

I need to keep my arms raised, holding and withholding nothing. Only in this posture of surrender and heartfelt praise, with tears falling from the secret place, can He, unhindered, scoop up the things I’ve let fall to the ground.

These are the things I can’t stop fiddling with, things I want to take into my own hands, to wrest control of, so I can feel better about them.

O Jesus, You have promised that all things will work out for my good, far better than I can imagine. You have said that You have plans for me, that You will be found if I seek You with my whole heart. Can I believe that You *will* make things better, infinitely better, than all I could ever ask and imagine?

But my heart, my heart . . . It sometimes does not feel whole, and in the heat of the moments of the day, I feel cold. It’s like when the noonday sun is shining hotly, but the heat doesn’t reach the part of you that’s almost shivering inside.

I seek You from the place of a broken spirit and a contrite heart.

A broken heart and a contrite spirit, that too, You will not despise.


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