I'm giving you my heart, and all that is within
I lay it all down for the sake of you my King
I'm giving you my dreams, I'm laying down my rights
I'm giving up my pride for the promise of new life
And I surrender all to you, all to you
And I surrender all to you, all to you
I'm singing You this song, I'm waiting at the cross
And all the world holds dear, I count it all as loss
For the sake of knowing You for the glory of Your name
To know the lasting joy, even sharing in Your pain
And I surrender all to you, all to you
And I surrender all to you, all to you
I grew up in a Christian home. I became a Christian very early. Maybe six or seven. I rededicated my life at 15. I don't know why it shocks me that I'm still learning things. The lesson I'm learning right now? Well, it's a really hard one. One I thought I had learned years ago. One I would rather not have to learn again. One I really would like to not think about.
But not thinking about it has just delayed the inevitable. So here I am. Thinking about it really hard.
Surrender. Surrender. Surrender. I have always thought that I had surrendered my whole life to God. That’s what it means to be a Christian, right? If you had asked me four days ago I would have said without a doubt that I have surrendered everything to God. I would do whatever He asked.
But Thursday night, sitting on a stool in the sanctuary, I felt rather than heard God's voice. “You haven’t surrendered everything."
I'm giving you my dreams, I'm laying down my rights
I'm giving up my pride for the promise of new life
And I surrender all to you
The truth is I want to be a mother. It has been my desire since I was a little girl. I wanted to be a wife and a mother. I knew that I would be – and certainly thought I would be by now. So far, I haven't been able to be a mother. It feels like it's been forever. It feels like right now is the right time. It feels like I've been betrayed. It feels like I'm in limbo. It feels like a crushing weight pushing me down into the dirt.
I know, I know. "You're young still." "You've only been married three years." "You have tons of time ahead of you." "Enjoy sleeping in while you can."
Believe it or not those words of encouragement aren't as helpful as one might think. But that is not the point anyways. The point is this is the one area of my life that I am not willing to surrender. When Jake and I decided to let God be in charge of the size of our family (i.e. stopped using birth control) I *knew* in my head that it didn’t mean we would be parents right away. I was ready to wait six months. That seemed like a reasonable amount of time. When six months came and went I was even ready to wait a year. Dear Aunt Flow came to visit on the one year anniversary. I started to become bitter. Now that we are closer to two years than we are to one, I find myself engulfed in grief. And at times rage.
Psalm 37:4
Take delight in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart.
I *knew* that this verse didn’t mean that God was a genie in a bottle. I *knew* that it meant that my desires would become what God desires over time, but apparently I really didn't understand that. I’ve come to the startling realization that I have sort of been looking at God as a genie, ready to do my bidding if only I rub the bottle in the right way.
How horrifying.
Surrendering everything really means surrendering my dreams; even the dreams that God gave me so long ago. I KNOW God gave me the desire to be a mom. Why would He give me this dream and not a child to go with it?
I’ve talked before about being a brat. I have not had to wait very long for things I have wanted. I wanted to be married. Less than a year after graduating high school I was married. Why the wait now? I’m probably being taught a lesson in patience or suffering or relying on God or something, but geez how I wish I could just have a baby instead. Can’t I learn this lesson in some different (and preferably easier) way?
Giving this dream to God means that I am giving up all control over it. In reality I don't have control over it anyways, but holding on to this resentment lets me at least feel like I have some control over the situation. I can have some control over my feelings. Gosh I'm such a control freak.
So there I was, staring at the while sheet of paper on the music stand on Thursday night, everyone around me working out transitions and chord progressions. I finally understood the meaning of the song. Real surrender means that God becomes enough for me.
And then came the realization that floored me: right now, God isn’t enough. I want a child. It pisses me off that God hasn’t given me one. I probably won’t get one until I allow God to be enough, but right now I’m crippled by the fear that comes with giving up one’s dreams and desires. What if He still says no? What if He makes me wait for years and years and YEARS like the women in the Bible who yearned to be mothers? Sarah was 90. NINETY!
I don't know what I'm going to do tomorrow. Will I fall apart in tears on stage? Will I ignore the yearning to be close to God and desire to have a child grow within me and just sing the song because that's what I have do it? How long will I continue to be bitter?
Stay tuned to read about my other misconceived (no pun intended) notions of what a Christian is. Guess what? Being a good Christian doesn't mean you know everything. Being a good Christian doesn't me that you don't continue to learn lessons and struggle with sin. Gosh, I thought I knew that already.
