Giving Up

       "I give up!" How many times in my seventy-three years Have I said it? More than a handful recently, I confess. But yesterday-- I can't tell you why-- the familiar words took on a new meaning. I suddenly saw myself throwing my hands up in the air in the common gesture and stopped. Freeze frame. Just moments before I had made the very same motion as a sudden unexpected snow began to fall outside my window like a surprise shower of manna falling from heaven onto a hungry earth. Like a child, I ran from window to window-- I'm sure my face was glowing-- shouting to no one, "It's snowing, it's snowing!" And my heart was praising God for this sweet blessing. But as I sat down after the quick shower had passed, I was back in my dark place, engulfed by the pain and sadness. It struck me then, and the thought wouldn't let go of me (Thank You, Holy Spirit!): giving up was exactly what I needed to do with each pain, each negative, self-pitying thought. 

      And so, as my day went on, I made a conscious effort to "take every thought captive to obey Christ." (2 Corinthians 10:5) Instead of giving in to the pain that inevitably came, I stopped, I metaphorically lifted it in my hands and gave it to Jesus, the Great Physician, the One Who has told me again and again, 

"Come to me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take up my yoke and learn from me, because I am lowly and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."  (Matthew 11:28-30 CSB)

      And you know what? My day was better than the many preceding ones, because I realized that when my hands were raised in surrender to my pain how easy it was to turn that pain into praise: praise that I have sensation rather than no feeling at all, praise that my body is working better than it was three years ago, praise that I have a wonderful husband who loves me by providing for all my needs and caring for me when I can't care for myself, praise that I have family and friends who accept me even though I am not the energetic, hospitable person I once was, praise that my God loves me even though I can't serve Him like I would like to and once did.

      Whatever your burden or challenge, my friend-- physical, emotional, the state of the world, family struggles-- God has told us in the longest love letter ever written, His Word, He never meant for us to bear it alone, we CAN'T bear it alone! The hard part for me-- what's in bold in the verse below-- the releasing, the letting go, the "giving up" if you will. 

"Cast your burden on the LORD [release it] and He will sustain and uphold you; He will never allow the righteous to be shaken (slip, fall, fail)." (Psalm 55:22 AMP)

You may wonder why it took so long for this Truth to sink into my soul. Perhaps because I'm such a visual learner, it took that vision of my own hands, raised so often in a plea to be released from my prison of pain, becoming a vision of Praise. As the shepherd, king, and psalmist David, the "man after God's own heart" put it:

"May my prayer be set before You like incense, my uplifted hands like the evening offering." (Psalm 141:2 BSB)

  

 "He must increase, but I must decrease"  (John 3:30)

♱