surrender

Yielding Over Performance

Yielding Over Performance

C.S. Lewis said that Christians are the best and worst examples of Christianity, and I find that to be true so often in the way we portray God. On one hand, we claim that He died for us because of our inability to save ourselves. On the other hand, we claim that we are to do more in order to please Him because then we might deserve His love. This leads to disillusionment and discouragement, as we try to do something that we’ve never been able to do. It is a case of getting the order wrong, as living the Christian life is only possible when empowered by Jesus within us. When we put behavior before relationship and heart, we move into an impossible place that is driven by religion and trying to please God without any power.

On a recent talk, Brian Simmons said that the Christian life has never started with doing, but rather with yielding. Think about the terminology—abide, be still, rest, surrender, come to Me. Nothing in the Christian life begins with effort, but rather a stopping of effort and recognizing Jesus as the One who lives in us. Commands become promises as we realize they are only possible by His Life living through us. Good works are a result of living on the Vine, and allowing the source of Christ’s Life to produce them through you.

Never Surrender!

Never Surrender!

I always find it interesting to read about the battles where one side is overwhelmed with unimaginable odds, and yet chooses not to surrender. Growing up in Texas, the Alamo was one of those we heard about a lot. In this tiny mission-turned-fortress, about 200 soldiers fighting for independent Texas held off thousands of Mexican soldiers in order to provide time for the larger army to later defeat the Mexican army at the battle of San Jacinto. The odds were ridiculous, but the Texans did not surrender.

I can’t imagine the fear that must have been going through the hearts of people in these kind of battles. They know somewhere deep inside that they are completely outnumbered and will probably die. But they count it worthwhile to stay, hoping that the outcome later will be worth their lives. They choose not to surrender, to fear or to the approaching army.

It stirs my heart to read about these brave people, and it reminds me that I also don’t want to choose to surrender, except to the One who is my victory. I don’t want to surrender to hopelessness that tells me I will never see the change for which I’m praying, or the end of a season of pain. I don’t want to surrender to fear that makes me obsess on the worst case scenarios and attempt to prevent and control outcomes I can’t see a way through. I don’t want to surrender to emotional or physical pain that tells me I will never have healing or relief, draining my life of hope for the future. I don’t to surrender to my weakness which repeats the same refrain over and over—you can’t, you aren’t enough, you will never make it. I don’t want to surrender to my anger and feel controlled and tossed around like being on a choppy ocean.