I Don't Think I'm Afraid of God's Will

I've been thinking a lot about surrender lately.

It's one of those words Christians use so often that I wonder if we sometimes stop asking ourselves what it actually means.

For a long time, I told myself that I was afraid of God's will. That sounded honest enough. After all, what if His plans were completely different from mine? What if He asked me to carry a cross I didn't want? What if I spent years praying for something that never happened?

But the more I prayed, the more I realized that wasn't quite it.

I don't think I'm afraid of God's will.

I think I'm afraid of not knowing how long it will take.

That feels much more honest.

If someone could tell me, "This season will last exactly three more years," I think I would somehow find the strength to endure it. Not because it would hurt any less, but because I could prepare myself. I could count the days. I could tell myself, Just keep going. There's an end.

But that's not how God usually works.

He rarely gives calendars.

He gives daily bread.

I've laughed a few times thinking about that because it's almost frustrating. My heart keeps asking for a map, and the Lord keeps handing me enough light for the next step. That's all.

One step.

Then another.

And another.

Sometimes I wish He trusted me with more information.

Then I remember that perhaps the reason He doesn't is because He knows me better than I know myself.

If I knew everything ahead of time, I would probably spend more energy managing the future than living the present.

That's always been my temptation.

Not despair.

Control.

I want to prepare for every possibility. I want to soften every future disappointment before it arrives. I want certainty because certainty feels safer than trust.

Except it isn't.

Certainty has never actually saved me.

It didn't prevent heartbreak.

It didn't prevent betrayal.

It didn't prevent suffering.

If anything, my need for certainty often made me suffer twice. Once in my imagination, and once in reality.

God has been so patient with me.

He hasn't scolded me for wanting answers. He has simply continued inviting me back to today.

Almost every lesson He's been teaching me seems to end there.

Today.

Love today.

Pray today.

Forgive today.

Work today.

Rest today.

Trust today.

Tomorrow belongs to Him.

There are moments when I still catch myself reaching for the future, almost as if I could grab it and pull it closer. Then I smile because I recognize that old habit now. I don't have to panic when it happens. I simply notice it, take a deep breath, and gently return to where I actually am.

I think that's what spiritual maturity has begun to look like for me.

Not the absence of temptation.

Not the absence of fear.

Just returning more quickly.

Maybe that's all God has been asking of me from the beginning.

Not perfection.

Just... return.

Return to the present.

Return to prayer.

Return to trust.

Return to Him.

And perhaps one day I'll look back on this season and realize that the greatest miracle wasn't that God finally answered my questions.

It was that somewhere along the way...

I stopped needing them quite so much.

💜