Submission

Submission has been turned into a dirty word, especially for people like me. Fighters don't have the ability to contemplate the notion of submission. It's entirely contrary to our nature. We are ready, waiting almost, for the next ambush. Our fists are up, our minds are sharp, our weapons are armed. 

I sat there feeling prepped for a fight. But I also sat there exhausted by the idea of it. When you've been fighting as long as I have, you long for peace, for quiet, even though your brain isn't quite capable of accepting it. He said "fall flat on your face, stretch out your hands, and submit. Lay it down. Your plans. Your ideas. Your intentions. Let it go. Accept what He has willed."

Now you know those moments when you can literally hear Jesus talking to you? This was one of them. Jesus was freaking talking straight to me. Every single word was cutting.

I am so unwilling to unclench my fists, relax my arms and just. let. go. Where I live. When my husband is deployed (or away from home). My childrens' illnesses. My dog's failing health. The FRG... The laundry list of chains I have my hands tightly wrapped around that I just can't (or really won't) submit to. Submission feels like this dirty word that means I allow the avalanche to destroy me. Submission feels like defeat. 

But is it? Is opening my hands and actually relaxing going to be as awful as I fear? Why am I so prone to ignore the possibilities of things I am being protected against? Why am I so oblivious to the safety I have been offered in these seemingly awful things? The "gifts" that hurts can bring are boundless. 

I am trying to lay my face down on the grand, outstretch my arms, and submit. I am trying to say "Your way, Your time, Your means." I am trying to put down my ammunition and climb on His horse and be cool with Him doing His thing. It's tough, but comforting too.