How to Survive Surrender
“Sometimes I hear You whispering in my heart, ‘I take great delight in you.’ It’s hard for me to receive this blessing, but I know it’s based on the unconditional Love You have for all Your children. Please help me to relax in the Light of Your Presence— taking time to soak in Your luminous Love. I long to sit quietly with You while You renew me by Your Love.”
– Jesus Listens, May 2nd
In third grade I transferred to a new school. It was closer to our home. The teachers were better. The principle had values that aligned more with what my parents wanted for me. I didn’t put up a fight, but I was afraid. I was nervous about fitting in. I had been bullied at my other school. I had been picked on for being small or too smart or standing in the wrong place or for my mismatched outfit. When people don’t like you, it’s a guessing game as to why.
On the first day of school, my mom packed my lunch bag. She saturated her lips with bright pink lipstick and kissed a white square napkin scribbled with a little love note from her and folded it into the brown bag. I loved how she did that. All the years previous, it was a sweet mid-day reminder of how much my mom loved me. Then, I saw her reach for the king-sized Snickers box and pull out not one, but two bars. She came over to me and waved them in front of me, “one for you and one for a friend,” she said with pose and assurance as though she knew I would make a new friend on my first day of school. I was ready to go.
When I think about this transition in my life and how my mom bridged the gap for me, I realize how she has been doing that for me all my life. From one elementary school to the next. From high school to college. College to marriage. Marriage to motherhood. On and on and on. She bridged the gap. We need bridge builders. We need people to help us leap through changes in our lives so we don’t completely lose it. We need people who are safe and good and can guide us along the path of unknowing.
The hardest part about any life transition is that I don’t want to be a burden with my problems. I want to put on a shield of protection around my sloppy heart. I don’t want my sadness or confusion of messy feelings to get in the way of anyone else. The biggest problem with any change in life is—me. But in so many ways, God’s love for me in seasons of letting go and starting over is as extravagant as my mom giving an eight year old king-sized candy bars.
What is love if it isn’t extravagant? Isn’t that Psalm 23:25—My cup overflows. God is wasteful with His love for us. The good wine is spilling all over the table and God just keeps on pouring. It’s audacious and gasp-worthy and now a mess all over the fine linen how wasteful God’s love is for us. It’s appalling how God became man and dwelt among us. It’s too much. It’s ridiculous how the Father in the parable of the prodigal son runs out to the son who wished he were dead and took his fortune. It’s almost borderline and, in pop culture parenting language today, enabling. You need a parenting class, God. You need better boundaries. All your children will turn out spoiled at the rate you’re going giving love away like it’s nothing.
Unconditional love is a silly concept. It’s for the mentally unstable. Who said pouring out everything, emptying everything, sacrificing everything would work? Who said dying for murderers and rapists and nice people would be a good idea? It’s all upside down, isn’t it? But God is just crazy enough to make sense of all the nonsense. God gives unconditional love because He just loves us so much. He knows we won’t believe our belovedness unless He makes it blatantly and boldly obvious how much He adores us. All we have to do is need it. He will keep pouring even after we have tapped out. Even after we have had enough already, He won’t stop. The worst waiter of all time. He will take us from the valley of the shadow of death to the table in the presence of our enemies. He will never stop pouring. The linens will be completely ruined.
Transitions are terrifying. They really are. I have a tendency to minimize their gravity. There is a whole grief cycle with each new season. Something to surrender and something to receive. But it’s times like these, when everything is shifting, where I need to accept my need for help. I can ask for extra time, to borrow a truck, more time to be sad. I can be a burden—gasp! I can be a burden. I can bless my neediness. It keeps me human and this is good.
I can also unburden others. I can bless the change in their lives. I can find my own way to slather pink lipstick on a napkin and walk others into hard, new, scary places. I can make a big deal out of big deals. I can make a big deal out of things that can be perceived as a small deal. I can learn from Jesus. We can be extravagant with our love. I can be a really bad parent who spoils our kids with king-sized candy bars. And by spoil, I mean, we can keep pouring out the good wine until it makes an absolute mess.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Anjuli Paschall is the author of Stay and Awake. She grew up encircled by an orange grove in San Diego. After graduating from Point Loma Nazarene University, she earned her master’s degree in spiritual formation and soul care from Talbot Seminary. She lives in Southern California with her husband, Sam, and five children. She is the founder of the retreat ministry Sojourn and Sage. You can find her every day on Instagram at @LoveAlways.Anjuli and @Your.Daily.Liturgy. Learn more at AnjuliPaschall.com.
