Surrendered

I think I have shared this revelation twice or thrice before, but throughout this ongoing process of reclamation, words and the timing thereof have taken on an entirely different contextual sense and assume an unexpected mass. 

Whether it be the things I read, the thoughts I hear, conversations shared or the unanticipated  moments alone, words of late have brought about a compellingly different way of being. Filters in place for ages are being amended or altered altogether.  Their resonance has taken on an entirely new timbre. 

Like this. 

“Surrender”.  

Not so much any more the verb  exclusively defining it as the act of giving up, accepting embarrassing defeat, losing. But rather, surrender as a patient, knowing and faith filled embrace that is determined to free oneself of control, rationalization and ego. Along with it, comes letting go of  fear, anxiety and the unknown.  Not to say in any sense that surrender is item #5 on your “to do” list, or what you have planned for the weekend now that the kids are away.  

Surrender is the centerpiece of metanoia.  A transformative change in body, heart, mind and soul. It can approach you from a variety of paths.  The realization that old habits are no longer affirming.  That occupation is more about consumption of time, effort and maintenance than true purpose.  And a sense that you diverged from being that man or woman you once thought you were. 

Las night, I then came across this one. 

“Surrendered.”  

As shared in a thought by Rick Warren, it isn’t an act but an outcome. Coming  across more so as a noun, something you choose to become, learn to know  and live by and as.  Though you may have acted to surrender before, the way he now employs it acts to  define not just  what and who you are. But how you got there.  

“You also know you’re surrendered when you don’t react to criticism and rush to defend yourself. Surrendered hearts show up best in relationships. You don’t edge others out, you don’t demand your rights, and you aren’t self-serving when you’re surrendered.”

Being held captive by the critics, external and internal, can become confining and isolating. You devolve into what they espouse you should be. A part of the herd.

When you make yourself first and foremost around others, then what is the point?  Assuming that throne does nothing to establish a nurturing, loving connection for anyone involved. How can they possibly wedge themselves into your protective ego-aura? 

His last sentence simply captures it all. 

One action, surrender, is what it takes so you can just “be”. 

Surrendered.

The hope of healing.

“Other people are going to find healing in your wounds. Your greatest life messages and your most effective ministry will come out of your deepest hurts.”
― Rick Warren


If you think of it, a healing process of this level has a great many stages, levels and appearances. In certain respects, we are all wounded in some way, shape or form. Moments with others that happen to intersect at various points along the path towards healing. The start. The middle. Close to the finish.

How Mr. Warren depicts this level of interaction lifts our wounds from being an acknowledged infirmity to an empowering affirmity. For both.

Affirming in the sense that you are able to genuinely convey your anguish to share an arduous, ongoing recuperative journey with another. Reinforcing their efforts in a continuous pursuit of recovery while confirming the impetus of your own.

The fact that you can help them and yourself in concert carries with it a sense of the divine. A true fellowship centered on openness, trust, humility and love. Love for them. And ultimately, for yourself.

It was St. Thomas of Assissi that once said, ““The deeds you do may be the only sermon some persons will hear today.” Though you may deliver one to help them mend, your sharing it provides the sustenance needed for your ongoing healing as well.

We all share one thing in common; the wounds of life.

So let us too share what enables us to live.

The hope of healing.

“In the manifold activities of life.”

“It is the paradox of life that the way to miss pleasure is to seek it first. The very first condition of lasting happiness is that a life should be full of purpose, aiming at something outside self. As a matter of experience, we find that true happiness comes in seeking other things, in the manifold activities of life, in the healthful outgoing of all human powers.”

– Hugh Black

Some thought provoking insights from a Scottish-American theologian, author dating back to the turn of the century.

Mr. Black implies that by seeking pleasure or happiness, a choice and action initiated from within, one will inevitably fail to obtain it. However, by .”..aiming at something outside of self”, he seems to posit that purpose acts to aggregate the collective opportunities to experience true happiness.

It isn’t so much some “thing” that appears, carrying with it a modicum of happiness. But rather that the cumulative effects of all of your outgoing human powers collaborate to gather it in, in all forms, enveloping you within a greater sense of life.

Being that it is not an entity to be taken in unto itself, but rather allowing its presence surround you, permeating all you are.

“In the manifold activities of life.”

Heal the brokenness.

When things become broken and remain so for a long, long time, sad to say, a wide variety of actions, inaction and rationalization begin to take over. Done so in the name of change, mending and rebuilding. But alas, more so to remain as such.

It becomes a way of being. Strange as it may seem, there is comfort to be found in this mode of existence. Being in and remaining in that state, one can be assured that nothing out of the ordinary, challenging or changing is not going to disrupt the rhythm of “life”, if that is what you want to call it.

This applies to individuals, and in an effort to keep this contextually correct for current media, teams, organizations, states and yes even nations.

Once nestled within that comfort zone, ego can emerge and frightfully remain front and center. Nothing changes albeit in the name of change.

“I have this under control, no one is going to tell me what to do or how to do it.”

“Your point of view is just wrong. What kind of person comes up with that nonsense? Have you no clue?”

“Why in the world would I want to talk to you? You can’t tell me how to think, feel or act. How dare you!” The hole expands and wreckage grows, hidden and distorted by the rose colored glasses of ego.

Close behind in tandem is its sibling, self-righteousness. Placing oneself not just on the pedastal, but firmly ensconced in the pulpit. A pharisee of your own design and law, willing to bring disorder, destruction and even death to see that your aims are met.

Things and those that are broken can be mended.

For anything to grow out of those ruins, adding ever more manure will never yield the desired outcome. It takes a firm resolve, a willingness to embrace discomfort and an embodiment of genuine humility.

Only within true fellowship can one put those pieces back together and enjoin a life as it was meant to be. Person to person. Teammate to teammate. Resident to resident. Countryman to countryman.

Just love your neighbor as you love yourself.

Heal the brokenness.

The absolute strength of love.

“Now there is a final reason I think that Jesus says, “Love your enemies.” It is this: that love has within it a redemptive power. And there is a power there that eventually transforms individuals. Just keep being friendly to that person. Just keep loving them, and they can’t stand it too long. Oh, they react in many ways in the beginning. They react with guilt feelings, and sometimes they’ll hate you a little more at that transition period, but just keep loving them. And by the power of your love they will break down under the load. That’s love, you see. It is redemptive, and this is why Jesus says love. There’s something about love that builds up and is creative. There is something about hate that tears down and is destructive. So love your enemies. ”
― Martin Luther King Jr.