Powerlessness that Empowers

Originally published on March 28, 2013

Most days, on the best days, I offer a prayer of surrender before my feet ever hit the floor. If I forget and find myself already starting the day without that moment of surrender, I stop the moment I realize it and offer it. There are very few days that I forget entirely. In fact, I can honestly say that for the past three-plus years, I don’t think there has been a single day that I have forgotten for the entirety of the day. It’s the most important prayer of any of my days.

“God, I surrender my life and my will to you. Please give me grace to do what I cannot do on my own.”

It’s that simple, really. But I mean it when I say it—some days more than others. On the days when I feel like I mean it less, those are the days I really mean it most. Some days I wake up with a very definite plan for the day and have no intention of letting anyone or anything get in my way. Those are the days you might most likely hear chuckling in the heavenly realms. Other days, I feel so disconnected and emotionally hung-over that I don’t even care what happens until I can fall back into bed at the end of the long day ahead. When I wake up at either of those extremes is when I especially depend on God’s grace to bring me back to where I belong.

We humans, especially women, tend to hang on to things we just shouldn’t hang on to. We are jealous, resentful, bitter, and sometimes spiteful. Yes, we are encouraging, forgiving, loving, and generous too. These traits exist in our hearts simultaneously and fight against each other. Just when we think we have emptied ourselves of the things that hurt us and are feeling like we’re in a good place, the dark, lingering discontent creeps up on us again, and there we are, feeling like we’re right back where we started. This cycle is exhausting and takes its toll on our hearts, our friendships, and our souls.

I can’t speak for every woman, of course, but I believe that when we experience these cycles long enough, our defense mechanism is to isolate—to withdraw from people, places, and things and cling to our own space, family, and work. It makes us wonder if relationships are even worth the trouble. Maybe that tendency to withdraw is part of God’s plan to heal our heartaches; maybe not. I know that when I find myself in that place, I tend to pray more and experience more peace. I learn about myself—if I’m willing to be honest. I have time to listen and learn what my part is in the things that have happened in my life that are causing me or others to suffer. I learn to take responsibility for my actions and ask for forgiveness when appropriate. Sometimes the best or the only thing I can do is to choose to behave differently in the future if similar circumstances should arise (living amends). But I also learn what I am not responsible for, and that is probably even more challenging because so many of us tend to be “people-pleasers.” As women and mothers, we believe we are supposed to take care of everyone, and many times, in doing so, we don’t take care of ourselves. The lines between caregiving and caretaking are blurred. It’s all about that elusive balance we seek. We often take on feelings, responsibilities, blame, and credit for things that are not ours to own. Owning our own “stuff” and taking care of all that is within our own boundaries is quite enough—we don’t need to try to manage other people’s “stuff,” be it feelings, behavior, reactions, relationships, property, responsibilities, likes/dislikes, worries, fears, regrets—the list could go on and on. But maybe you just caught a glimpse of something that made sense to you. A large part of surrendering my days, hours, minutes really means letting go of all that is not mine and giving it to God, who loves me and wants to care for me, and who loves those other people and wants to care for them as well. I have to trust that as I place it all in God’s hands, all things will work for good, even though I can’t imagine what it will look like.

“Mind your own business”

When we read that, we usually think it’s telling us to stay out of other people’s business, but there is more to it than that—it also means to take care of our own business. Take responsibility for our own behavior and decisions and let others do the same. To have real peace, we have to do that with a genuine sense of acceptance, love, and understanding and trust that it doesn’t have to threaten our well-being. I am utterly convinced that to do this truly requires grace because we simply cannot do it without supernatural power.

Surrendering all to God, emptying myself of self-will and filling myself with God’s will—I ask “for the grace to do what I cannot do on my own.” With God’s grace and mercy, I can strive to live out a favorite prayer:

Serenity to accept the things I cannot (and should not) change;
Courage to change the things I can (me and my behavior);
Wisdom to know the difference.