The Art of Letting Go

I was talking to a close friend the other day about how much I have already had to learn to let go of and give into God's hands during my limited parenting experience. Through this experience, I have had to learn to be more dependent on family, my spouse, strangers, and God, especially.

I thought I had some control over what my birth experience was going to be like: I had no control. I thought I had big decisions to make regarding my child's first few months: I have had to relinquish my plans. I imagined things being orderly: They have been chaos. I thought I could do it on my own: In many ways, I am as helpless as my little baby. 

It feels as if I have been pulled into the mythological whirlpool Charybdis-- sucked in, then spewed back out. Then I reach out and cling to the branch of God's Word, and for a moment the world stops spinning. 

When I look back on my life, I realize that this state of things is not entirely new. It seems as if I'm often in over my head, plunged into circumstances that threaten to overwhelm me. Then at the moment I feel that, like Peter walking on the Sea of Galilee, I am sinking, I feel Jesus' firm grasp on my hand, pulling me up. And I hear Him ask me "Why did you doubt?" 

That's the issue--not my strength or my righteousness or my with-it-ness but my faith. God is continually placing me in circumstances that force me to depend on Him, because I really try hard to do it on my own, and my desire for autonomy from God is a form of self-worship. 

I, like Eve in the garden, want to "be like God." And until God recieves every last ounce of my worship, He will not be satisfied. That's what makes Him a jealous God. He won't let us remain in our selfishness undisturbed, because all sin separates us from Him, and what He longs for, more than anything else, is for making to return to harmony with Him. He is jealous of our love. The more I get to know Him, the more every single metaphor He uses to describe Himself fits. He is our father, our lover, our friend, our shepherd, and yet He is the Supreme Creator of the universe. It is mind boggling how He can be all of these extremes, but He is. That's why His name is "I am," because He is beyond words. 

So here I am, a fledgling bird in the nest, accepting God's gifts greedily but crying when He gives me a nudge out. I must remember that He knows best. If I always remain safe and snuggly in the nest, I'll never learn to fly. 

So I'll take the comfortable with the uncomfortable from God, trusting Him to work all things for my good. I'll set my little one at His feet. Then, when I discover I have picked him back up, I will hand him over again, because it is only in the arms of God he will ever be safe. And when it is time for Brennon to learn to fly himself, I hope I will nudge him toward Heaven with a prayer.