AN HONEST LOOK AT SURRENDER
Tears streaming down my face, hands shaking, the words “it is well with my soul” quietly, yet distinctively, playing in the background. Ashamed and broken, I slightly turn my gaze to Jesus… “I’m not worthy,” I cry out. I say “slightly” because today I don’t feel bold. I don’t feel worthy. And the idea of turning my full stance to Jesus just isn’t happening. My filthy rags and wicked desires got the best of me. My first thought is “who can I blame?” Next, after talking myself down from the high place my pride has taken me, I remind myself, “No, this is my sin. This is my weakness. Take responsibility, KC, and give it to God.” The very next thought, “Give it to God. But wait, this is His fault.” My head hanging heavy, after a few moments of trying to figure out how I can blame God and getting nowhere fast, I finally surrender.
This battle is literally like two people fighting with each other. My flesh is trying to take me up to a high place, covered in blinders, while my spirit, the Holy Spirit, is pulling me down to the humble low place where I’m reminded of how desperately dependent I am on my Jesus. Back and forth, this tug of war is going on. Suddenly, shaking and with tear-filled eyes, I recognize what’s happening and I stop. Slowly, in my shame, I begin to take the little bit of strength I have left and raise my trembling hands up towards heaven. I sigh… relief.
Literally, the moment I began to raise my hands up in worship to the Father, relief washed over me. It sounds so silly, but in that moment, just before I began to lift my hands, they felt like they had a chain attached to a 500-pound weight holding me down. The thoughts that raced through my head sounded like…
“You’re not worthy to raise your hands up to Jesus.”“You haven’t grown at all.”
“You call yourself a Christian.”
“God does not want you in this condition.”
The thoughts, the weight, the shame… it all felt like too much. This silly, small thing was such a massive mountain that felt impossible to climb.Scripture boldly states, “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” (Ephesians 6:12)
Sin is powerful. It comes at a cost. Sometimes we don’t recognize the cost. But the battle written above is me literally pouring out my guts in an expression of the cost. Grace never left me; it was always present and actively working. But shame, like a blinder, caused me to really struggle to receive the gift of mercy. As powerful and life-sucking as sin is, the life-giving power of grace overcomes it. That raging unseen war has such an effect on us. Some have lived in it for so long, there’s no recognition of what is actually happening. If this is you, you’re being robbed. Every single day. For me, this was a fleeting moment that I know, without a doubt, I will experience again. But I don’t live in this. I live in the freedom and love that Jesus hands to me every single day. Sure, I stumble and fail miserably. That isn’t going to change until I have entered into eternity. But it’s not what my life is made up of anymore. And thank God for that.
In the moments following my relief, I began to search my mind for ways I can glorify God through my struggle with my past that I was currently experiencing. So, I did the only thing I really know how to do… I started writing. When I write about Jesus, as long as I’m being vulnerable, honest, and open, he is glorified. The power and relief I experienced the moment I raised my hands in worship are more real than the air I breathe. Because the moment I began to worship was the moment I truly turned in submission to the light of Jesus and away from the darkness of my sin.