It itched.
Like a stiff woolen sweater or an old, dead layer of skin drying up around me.
After eleven years, our bustling retail business no longer fit right. This was in 2001. As a new believer, Garth had become antsy to start fresh, to pursue the new stirrings in his heart. But how could we just let go after laboring so hard to make it viable? Besides, the income had finally become consistent. Predictable.
Could we find a way to manage our coffeehouse and new jobs? Wisdom spoke: No. Our three littles need more of us, not less. And we follow a God of order, not chaos.
But not only was my security tied up in the business; so was my image. Who was I if not a central figure in our town?
As a couple, our way of dealing with weighty decisions is to hold out until we both arrive at the same conclusion.
Indeed, one day I had what I call a knowing. After driving through dense stands of eucalyptus, I emerged from their deep shadows onto a sunlit country road. Soft brown hills opened wide before me. Ancient oaks spread their arms in the morning light. It’s time to sell, and it’s going to be okay.
I gave change an inner nod. Surrendered my arguments. Took a deep breath. Felt a fluttering. Freedom.
“To keep our faces toward change, and behave like free spirits in the presence of fate, is strength undefeatable.” Helen Keller
False beliefs about God and ourselves keep us clinging, striving, pulling strings. We get stuck, don’t we? We want God, plus.
We hope to rest in our sufficiency in Christ and gain something from the world.
We cling to unhealthy relationships,
or the dream of a relationship . . .
Houses that no longer fit the budget,
or the dream of a house . . .
I can be like Rachel who fled with her husband, Jacob, on the back of a camel—but not without first smuggling some of her father’s household idols under the folds of her skirt. I’m sure her ride grew mighty uncomfortable with those lumps tucked under her tush. But I too have sat awkwardly atop the things I once put my faith in before I knew better.
Still do.
We want to love God with our whole heart and grasp for something that never belonged to us.
Nine years after selling the business, I’d have a similar knowing when my son entered his senior year of high school: Let go. Oh, I fought it and clung—as if I had a choice. Often I even ramped up the mothering. There’s still so much I need to teach him!
Ha! As if he was listening.
It’s time to stop clinging to the hidden things that cripple us. Somewhere we’ve lost sight of our sacred identity and armored up, like Eve, with rotting fig leaves.
Self-recrimination: I don’t have anything to offer.
Comparison: When I’m as _______ as her, I’ll feel good about myself.
Shame: If they knew my true struggles, they’d reject me.
Resentments: How can I forgive that? I can’t afford to be that vulnerable.
These tendencies have been woven into our DNA since the Garden of Eden. And the low-life miscreant still hisses, “You can be like God,” so we desire control; and “You’re naked; be ashamed,” so we hyperfocus on our deficiencies.
I’ve noticed the Lord is gentle in matters of the heart and doesn’t force our hand. But why carry such dead weight into this precious season of life? Shall we stay here forever in these shadowy nests we’ve lined with stuff we can’t keep and the attitudes that keep us stuck?
Or shall we let go what’s decaying and stand with our arms wide, fully open to the light of God? Will we believe him when he says we don’t have to have enough or be enough because he is enough?
Relinquishment can’t happen until our trust in God’s authority over the prevailing winds is stronger than our desire to keep that dead leaf on our tree.
[bctt tweet=”Relinquishment can’t happen until our trust in God’s authority over the prevailing winds is stronger than our desire to keep that dead leaf on our tree.” username=”KitTosello”]
I need to make these things a practice:
Ask God to reveal what I’m holding on to that no longer belongs. If I don’t hear right away . . .
Keep listening, creating spaces and times for silence. Often, discernment can’t be forced. It arrives when the corners of the mind are free of distraction.
Visualize carrying this weighty thing to Jesus. Then lay it in his arms. Look into his eyes as he receives it–note his tenderness. Keep rehearsing this.
Tell someone. Seek prayer, accountability, and wise counsel if needed. Sometimes a plan is needed, practical steps to total relinquishment.
Move forward, liberated. Watch that dead leaf float away on the prevailing winds of change.
We can let go of old dreams and older versions of ourselves. Sisters, we need all ten fingers to cling to the cross!
Freedom waits on the other side of surrender.
Think of something you had to surrender in the past; have you ever regretted it? What is the Lord asking you to relinquish today?
Linking up today with these writers of hope: Holley Gerth, Tell His Story, Be Thee Inspired, Tea and Word Tuesday
Welcome to #TellHisStory. Your post blessed me today. You described discipleship throughout and pointed us to laying our uncertainty before God. Such a beautiful blessing!
Thanks for hosting, Mary! Looking forward to more connection 🙂
Kit,
So glad God allowed me to link behind you at Holley’s so I could read your post. I sense God asking me to trust Him with the unknown which means letting go of some things. Your post was a timely reminder and affirmation. Blessings 🙂
Makes my day to hear about such divine timing, Dolly. Hugs!
What a blessing your post was! I struggle with letting go – am a clinger, I suppose:) But when God asks me to move forward, I don’t want to cling….or have things clinging to me that should be left behind. Great reminder!
Asking that you’ll fearlessly move forward in every area of obedience in the coming days, Jennifer. Blessings.
Yes, we need to let go the hidden things weighing us down. Thank you for these encouraging words. May we stop clinging to what hinders us. Blessings to you! I’m your neighbor at #TellHisStory.
Amen, Gayl. Hugs!
This really blessed me this morning. I teared up at your list of things that cripple us. I have the tendacy to lay things down just to snatch them back up again. Thanks for writing and sharing this encouragement!
Katrina, so happy you were encouraged. Yeah, I do that too. I try not to be hard on myself because the more I turn a thing/attitude over to God, the more it WILL become my auto-response. Until, eventually, I can speak truth to myself at the first hint of the old temptation.
Encouraging, thank you. I continue to ask God to guide me on this journey of letting go. Thanks for reminding me to lay it at His feet.
I’m asking God to do that for you, Susan. In Jesus’ name, healing and peace.
How often have I “armored up, like Eve, with rotting fig leaves”? What a beautiful reminder to let go, embrace change and what we can’t understand, and embrace the God whose understanding can’t be measured.
Love it, Marlys. Such worthwhile things to cling to. <3
Good lessons there, Kit, amidst your lovely fall prose. Even though I am not a mother of kids of any age (unless the pets count), I still appreciate and relate to the challenges you mention and reminders to let go. “Freedom waits on the other side of surrender.” Indeed.
Oh, surely pets count! Wishing you a day of focus and freedom, Mari!
Oh, this is such a picturesque way of thinking about relinquishment. Thanks so much, Kit.
Thank you, Michele. Nature can be such an effective mirror!
Oh this is so good, Kit! And exactly where I’m at! The Lord has been whispering for me to let go of certain things too. This season is a season of change and letting go. Some things are harder to let go of than others, but each one is necessary and important.
The distractions being possibly the most important of all.
Learning to surrender right alongside you.. ❤️
So glad this encouraged you, Rachel! I’m working to release certain distractions too, so that at the end of the day I’m not left feeling like I do when I’ve left the grocery store with three bags full but not the one thing that was on my list…and no money left. Big hug. <3