vulnerable

There's something about raising your hands in total surrender that makes you vulnerable. It's as if a robber entered the bank and asked you to "stick 'em up." This is a helpless position; you are wide open to attack and any movement on your part could jeopardize your safety.

We are a people who do not like to be vulnerable. At least I don't. I would rather insulate myself from anything and everything potentially harmful. I would rather build walls of protection, high walls that do not let danger pass. And this is good...these walls keep out everything threatening. "Don't mess with me," they shout, "I can lock you out." And that's precisely what they do...lock things out. Lock out memories. Lock out people. Lock out circumstances. Lock out blessings. Lock out God. Whoa - they are not supposed to lock out the good stuff. But they do...and that is why we need to surrender. We need to climb down from our high walls; we need to raise our hands before the Lord, and we need to allow him to tear down our separating circles of comfort.

This is rough – in fact, it may bring us to our knees, precisely where the Lord can use us. Don’t get me wrong – the Lord does not want to see us suffering, but he does want to see a submissive and humble spirit.

The Lord gently removes block by block. My first reaction is to clutch onto the nearest object – something, anything of comfort. I find nothing and instead cling to myself. I curl up with my knees to my chest, holding tight, not daring to look as the walls are crumbling around me. I don’t want to know what is out there. Do you really have to do it this way Lord?

When the process is over and when the last stone has been removed, I know it will be good. I know there will be a freedom in the midst of this total surrender, and that is what I am waiting for. Because it sure is vulnerable in the mean time.