There are a couple of songs I’ve heard recently about giving God control of your life. These are nice songs, and I’ve happily sung along to them in my car. But I didn’t realize what was wrong with them, or missing from them, until I listened to Switchfoot’s new album, Native Tongue. One of the songs is titled “Strength to Let Go.”
Let me tell you, with all of the emotional (and sometimes sinful) trash I’ve been creating, picking up, and slogging through over the last month or so, this song was the power-washer I needed. Because in my own strength? I’ll never let go of my need for control. I’ll never get rid of the pride disguised as panic that says I’m the only one able to deal with a situation.
The Lord used this song to give me a better, more biblical, more useful prayer.
Give me the strength to let go. Because I cannot—will not—do it in my own power. I hold things, people, dreams, hopes, and fears close to my chest in the idiotic belief I have any control over how things turn out. Even worse, somewhere back in my brain, under the excuses and illogical rationales, I realize I’m telling God my way is better than His.
What kind of disgusting lie is that? What kind of horrific pride is that?
But, as I read in II John a while back, our God is a God of mercy, love, truth, peace, and grace. He forgives me for my audacious thoughts. And it is He, and He alone, who can give me the strength to let go of those thoughts and turn to Him.
God has, in His infinite patience with me, proved over and over and over again that He is in control and that His paths are good.
I choose mercy instead of control.
With God’s strength, I can overlook and love instead of demand and dislike.
Give me the strength to surrender/Give me the strength to stop holding on/I’ve been holding on so long/Give me the strength to let go/And show me the way to come home.
I don’t know that I can explain the rush of peace and longing that came over me at the last line. It was the missing piece, the ending of the prayer. Give me the strength to let go of my need for control. And then remind me where and what my ultimate goal and destination is.
Because when I’m not in control? I’m lost. I start panicking and can’t focus and get sharp with people and lose any semblance of My Cool. It. Isn’t. Fun. It comes down to the fact that I do not trust people. I do not trust their knowledge, their experience, their wisdom, or their intentions. I have morphed into a distrustful (and hence, lonely and bitter) person.
Since my car wreck last summer, I hate riding in a car. Even though driving stresses me out, having someone else in control of the vehicle stresses me out more. Being a passenger in the car means I have to look around at all the possible dangers and know that if it comes down to it, I can’t do a thing to keep us safe.
God is so, so, so much more trustworthy than any driver. If, in my own strength, I can’t trust people who have been driving longer than I’ve been alive and give that need for control over to someone who knows what they’re doing, how less likely is it that I’ll be able, in my own strength, to trust a God I cannot see? A God who is, thank goodness, never going to let me drive. My distrust of people has its good point. Ultimately, God is the only One who is completely trustworthy and unchanging. Other people will, inevitably, change or let me down or, *GASP* sin because they are human. With all of this paranoia, with all of this distrust, it’s not hard to see that, in my own strength, submitting to God’s control of my life is impossible.
But, to quote Paul, “with Christ, all things are possible.”
In this passage, Paul is talking about the ability to be content in any situation he finds himself in. I don’t think I’m taking it out of context by using this verse here.
With Jesus, with the Holy Spirit inside me, I can be, not just resigned to the fact, but content in knowing that I am sort of powerless. I can be content and joyful (to bring in another concept from Philippians 4) when I submit to God’s full and total control over my life and the life of every single other person who has or will ever exist.
Going back to the garden metaphor from my last post, I need, in addition to pulling up weeds of anger, to plant seeds of trust. I need to realize that God is the one who will make any fruit grow. It is He who controls and owns the garden of my life, and He is kind enough to let me work and learn alongside Him in it.
So, my prayer for the next who-knows-how-long:
Lord,
Please give me the strength to let go of my sinful mindset. Forgive me for my delusions of wisdom and for my rebellion against You. Rip it out of my mind; remind me of the truth. Please teach me how to be content. Please teach me how to submit to your infinite wisdom and accept my infinite foolishness. Please help me remain a runner instead of trying to knock out the referee and take his job. Help me remember that this world is not my home. Help me keep Heaven in front of me and this world behind me. Teach me how to trust again. Teach me to trust You and Your children. Replace my suspicion with a teachable spirit. Give me discretion, not paranoia. Give me hope, not terror.
Thank you for your mercy. Thank you for forgiving me. Thank you for growing me. Thank you for being perfect. Thank you for never changing. But, also, thank you for change. Without it, I wouldn’t appreciate your stability.
Teach me how to trust You and those of Your children you put in my life to help me.
Give me the strength to let go. And show me the way to come home.
Sarah Standard Version 