The other day, I found myself back in an old place.  A familiar place.

A forbidden place.

As I walked away from it that last time, bags in hand, I’d promised never to return… and yet somehow, there I was—trying to control everything again.

I thought I pretty much had this covered—the idea that I couldn’t “convince” God to just hurry up and fix my situation in any of the multiple ways I’d so generously (and frequently) prescribed to Him.  So, discovering that I’d somehow snuck back into this space where I was more concerned with receiving all the things I had to have rightthisveryminuteplease than with fostering a Relationship with my Creator…well, it kind of surprised me.

To say the least.

Then one day, it occurred to me that part of my problem was my discomfort with what I termed “The Silent Delay”.  Not getting what I wanted was one thing.  Not hearing from God exactly when He was planning to deliver my packages was more than should be asked of me.

I remembered hearing somewhere that faith comes by hearing, but growth comes by silence.  What I wanted God to fix really didn’t matter that much.  What I needed was the One who knew which areas in me need fixing, and how to get it done.  I understood this in my head, I think.  But in my heart, something else was going on.  I was refusing to sit still and allow God to help me mature in the specific areas that still needed work.

What God needed to do with me was a lot like surgery.  Some things had to be cut away.  Other things needed to be reconnected to places they’d separated from.  (And, since I’m being honest, were there also a couple of shady things that maybe only a flame-thrower could fix?)  Now, if I were on a table, with some professional trying to fix me up, it’s pretty unlikely that I’d be flip-flopping around, showing him where to put what.  So—why was I trying to do that with God?

In the end, the only appropriate response to the understanding that you’re in the middle of surgery is to lie still.   Is it difficult? Sometimes.  Is it painful?  Well, surgery generally isn’t pleasant, I guess.

But if the only option is to make a mess and end up worse than before—then have to do it all over again—doesn’t it just make sense to lie still and let Him work?  I can’t speak for anyone else, but frankly, I’m tired of finding myself back on this Table.

So here I am, God: yielded—and still.

Let’s do this.


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