“Carolyn Joy, let Me be God.” Each time I sit silently with God lately, the words return.
Let Me be God. I will protect you.
Let Me be God. I will provide for you.
Let Me be God. You don’t need to figure out how the next steps of your journey will unfold.
I look up as I see a light flash across the sky. Ah, yes. This is the God who holds lightening in his hand and sends thunder roaring across the sky, who speaks in thunder and routs his enemies with lightening. The same God who with that same hand reaches down to rescue me (Ps 18:1-19).
I look down and watch one wave after another tug at the sand. Ah, yes. This is the God who churns up the sea so that its waves roar, the same God who covers me with the shadow of this same strong hand (Is 51:15-16).
Some of the reminders are familiar, but there’s a new place, too, that is surprising me with it’s welcome: Might “Let Me be God” sometimes mean “It’s okay to stop trying to figure out the lesson I’m trying to teach you and just come rest in My love?”
In her marvelous post, The Spiritual Discipline of Learning Nothing, Emily Freeman awakens me to a longing so deep in me I can’t believe I didn’t know it was there until it was named:
“It’s true, learning is good and disappointments are an opportunity for growth. But I’ve grown weary of trying to squeeze a lesson out of everything, of always asking what God is trying to teach me in every circumstance, of seeing the world through lesson-colored glasses. . . .
School is good and necessary, but in my heart I long for home.”
And then she writes this, and my heart begins to sing:
“The words of Paul come to mind as I remember he didn’t say “To live is to become Christ-like.”
It sounds almost right, but it’s completely wrong.
Instead, he said, “For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain” (Phil. 1:21).
To live is a person, Christ himself.” (Emily Freeman)
Ahhh. Here I can breathe, here in this place where I remember that I’m called to come to Jesus. Not to a self-improvement program (though His love will change me). Not to a school (though He will teach me). But to Jesus.
Let Me be God—the God who loves to welcome you.
Let Me be God—the God who delights to be with you.
Let Me be God. Let me be your home.
“I’ve loved you the way my Father has loved me. Make yourselves at home in my love.” (John 15:9 The Message)
I’ll be letting God be God in a different way next week as I take a week-long course. See you back here in two weeks.