The Journey Of Surrender

SURRENDER

Surrender feels so frightening—

an unknown journey.

Too many past horrors

to risk laying down my authority.

People see, they judge,

without ever knowing my story.

So I build walls,

brick by brick,

with endless energy.

The faster I move, the less I think.

Distraction becomes my shield

against the stench fear left behind.

Blind, I cannot see the bind I am in—

the prison I built

by believing the lies,

spoken long ago

to steal away my spirit,

to silence my soul.

Surrender feels so frightening—an unknown journey.

Too many past horrors

to risk laying down my authority.

So I whisper, day after day:

Surrender is not an option.

Keep moving. Keep moving.

Don’t stop. Don’t feel.

Quickly wondering—

is it all in vain?

Keep moving. Keep moving.

I must produce.

Keep moving. Keep moving.

But the nuts and bolts

are coming loose.

And deep inside,

a single chant echoes:

Keep moving or die…

Keep moving or die…

Keep moving or die…

SURRENDERING

But then—

a moment of stillness.

A time to stop and ponder

what my life has truly been about.

No longer a child—

not for a long while.

It was time to live

by His style.

Surrender is still frightening,

unknown territory…

yet it whispers of freedom,

of my true authority.

As I grow, I begin to flow

in the liberty given to me

long ago.

Authority to speak life,

to call miracles into existence.

Authority to confront evil

without resistance.

Authority to crush

the enemy’s head.

Authority to sing hope

into the walking dead—

the dead of heart,

the dead of spirit.

I lift my voice,

so they may hear it.

And the more I surrender,

the more I grow—

making it easier now

to ebb and flow.

The lies fade into the distance,

their power at last undone.

And when I look into the mirror,

I finally see—

the woman I was created to be.

SURRENDERED

To live surrendered—

such a holy feat.

It is more than a seat at the table.

It is bowing low,

humbly,

at Jesus’ feet.

It is stillness

without the crutch of pills.

It is meekness,

quiet strength

while the heart seeks.

It is laying pride aside,

allowing His hands

to unweave the lies.

And now my heart stirs—

beating a melody brand new,

a song no one else has heard,

crafted by the Hands of Love.

A new day has dawned.

Pride laid down,

I rise into a new stride.

I sit quietly,

sweetly singing my song.

I walk lightly,

held tightly in His love,

dwelling daily in His shadow.

No longer a clanging gong.