I host a monthly group where we go deep and discuss a particular word. A few months back we had a discussion of “Surrender” and I’ve been thinking about it ever since.
As I prepped for the discussion, I came across a blog where the writer referred to a book called The Surrender Experiment and, after a few weeks, decided to read it. The author shares his willingness to surrender in all areas of his life–financial, relational, spiritual. Personally, I found it incredible that rather than ending up a hermit or some sort of ascetic living in a commune on bread and water, he was a very successful entrepreneur and business owner.
Although the idea of trying to surrender is rather ironic 🙃, since reading the book, surrendering has been something to pay attention to in my daily life. I don’t approach it the same way he did, but it’s been quite interesting and I’m willing to continue.
Here’s what I’ve learned:
Surrendering is HARD.
I’ve been mildly successful in accepting without (too much) resistance the numerous delays we experienced when trying to sell our house.
The movers were rescheduled four times.
And the PODS delivery.
And the AirBnB reservation.
And construction on the new house. (It was getting embarrassing.)
I got through it by trusting that it would all work out.
Trusting that God knew more about the situation than I did.
That I wasn’t the only one affected by the delays.
I kept reminding myself that only good lies before me.
The hard part was that even though I was really OK with the delays, I felt like I shouldn’t be. I felt like I should be getting mad–or having some response. It was like being OK with what shouldn’t have been OK wasn’t OK.
Now, understand, that getting mad would have served no purpose. I had no control over the delays and neither did the people on my team. And getting mad at the ones causing the delay wouldn’t speed things up at all. (Have you ever slowed down when someone got mad at you–just to remind them “who’s in control?” Yes, it’s petty. Yes, I’ve done it.)
Part of me understood that going with the flow was the best thing, but part of me wanted to be offended, angry, to demand that something be done–or at least someone should know that I am NOT happy.
It seemed weak to NOT respond.
It seemed weak to surrender.
The hard part was overriding my conditioned tendency to fight. I didn’t feel seen or important.
I had to override my desire to control the situation and therefore feel safe.
I had to make a different choice and allow the uncertainty of someone else being in control to be OK.
So–far from being weak, it actually takes commitment and courage to surrender.
This is not the typical view.
In the moment, surrender feels like losing.
It feels like giving up,
waving the white flag,
wimping out,
not standing up for your rights.
But the more I practice and embody surrender, the more I understand that it’s an indication of resilience and grit.
It allows me to skillfully tolerate situations and people over which I have no control.
It teaches me to embrace uncertainty and be OK when things don’t work out the way I think they should.
The courage to surrender is a skill I want to cultivate.
