lifeline

I’m caught in the thrashing waves,

In a storm on the sea.

I am treading violently, trying to catch a breath.

A lifeline bobs along the surface.

A glimpse of orange and white on a background of blue.

I grasp onto the rope, clinging to my saving grace.

My fingers wrap around tightly, my knuckles turning white.

It slips.

It drifts.

It floats further and further away.

I cling tighter.

I fight harder.

I tread faster.

It slips.

It drifts.

It floats further and further away.

A voice tells me to let go.

To let go of my saving grace.

There is peace in that voice; peace in releasing the rope.

But terror grips me.

I’m afraid to let go.

I’m scared of watching it drift away.

I’m fearful of the waves.

I’m worried that I’ll drown.

I’m petrified that I’ll lose the very thing that could save me.

But the paradox is:

This lifeline is killing me.

I am consumed with worry, wondering what letting go might look like.

Unsure of what letting go even means.

Unsure of what this lifeline represents.

Unsure of how to release control.

I know that I need to let go and let God.

To trust that if it is for me, then God will bring it back to me.

To trust that God’s plan is bigger and better.

But I need help.

Because I don’t know how to.

But I don’t want to be stuck here anymore –

Solidified like a pillar of salt, stuck in the in-between.

Caught between what was and what could be.

Trapped within melancholy, desiring the past and dreading the uncertainty of the future.

I don’t want to keep clinging onto something that I cannot control.

I don’t want to keep holding onto something that needs to drift away.

God, I need you to help me let go and trust You.

If what I desire never comes around, I want to believe that You are enough.

That Your plans are enough.

I want to believe that if it is meant to be, then it will be.

I want to stop worrying about things that are outside of my control.

I want to turn the page.

Close the chapter.

Finish the book.

Begin again.

Start afresh.

I think I’m ready for that.

To lay it all down.

Everything that I’ve ever known.

Everything that I’ve ever desired.

I think I’m ready.

To enter the new –

the place that You’ve been calling me into,

the place that You’ve been waiting to show me.

I think I’m ready to leave it all behind.

To trust.

To abide.

To follow.

I think this is why it all had to happen.

So that I could shed the layers.

The years of grief.

The lifetime of trauma.

The disappointment.

The loss.

The need to fight and make it through.

The self-reliance.

The tainted identity.

The damaged mindsets.

The skewed beliefs.

I think that You were leading me here all along.

I think that You had a plan from the start.

When all I saw was loss and closed doors.

You saw a new beginning – a new birth.

You saw a door to freedom, wholeness and healing.

You saw a deeper level of trust and reliance on You.

You saw a greater intimacy as you held me through my grief.

You saw a brighter future – one without the darkness of yesterday.

You saw a resurrection – a life of victory.

You saw a blank canvas, a fresh start, free from the ugly of the past.

You saw a double portion – a life of overflow.

You were leading me to the threshold all along,

asking me to cross,

asking me to leave it all behind.

But I couldn’t let go.

I couldn’t trust.

I couldn’t follow.

Because I couldn’t see.

But you were patient.

You stayed beside me -

Wrapped your arms around me, whilst I grieved.

Held me whilst I was scared.

Waited whilst I learned to trust.

Loved me whilst I failed You.

Listened whilst I wrestled.

Remained faithful when I wanted to leave.

Lifted me up when I fell.

Stayed when I threw punches.

Encouraged me when I was downtrodden.

Nudged me when I needed to release my worries to You.

You tore down in order to begin again.

To build again, better.

To remove the shaky foundation and build on solid ground.

To craft something pure, firm and immovable.

To create rivers in the dry wasteland and pathways in the wilderness.

I tried to cling to the past – what I had, what I had built.

I sat in the rubble of what had been demolished.

I mourned upon the ruins of the past.

You told me from the beginning that You were doing a new thing -

A new thing that required You to tear down, demolish, and destroy the existing.

And no one and no thing could stop that new thing.

It was meant to be destroyed.

I was supposed to let it be destroyed,

And trust that whatever took its place would be superior.

It was never to hurt me, but to benefit me.

It was never intended for harm, but for good.

I now know that:

No one can open the doors that you have closed.

No one can close the doors that you will open.

No one can stop the move of your Spirit,

Nor control the works that you desire to perform.

No one can hold onto a lifeline – a past – that is intended to drift away.

I can see what that lifeline represents now.

Certainty.

Desire.

Self-reliance.

Nostalgia.

Familiarity.

The waves aren’t as frightening anymore.

If I drown, I am promised resurrection life.

If I sink, You will lift me up again.

If I die, I will wake up to a new day.

So, I think I’m ready to let go.

I want You to lead me on, Jesus.

Be my guide into the Promised Land.

Be my lifeline on the sea.

Be the potter of my soul, the painter of this blank canvas.

Be the foundation, the cornerstone, the builder of my life.

I surrender.

I relinquish control.

I let go.

I trust.

I give You the keys.

I release.

Orange and white drifts, drifts, drifts away.

I relax.

I float.

I breathe.

A bright light bursts forth on the horizon.

It burns with intensity and new beginnings.

I am engulfed in radiant light.

I am surrounded.

By love.

By joy.

By peace.

By Him.

It’s better than I could have hoped for.

This new day is brighter than what I prayed for.

This new chapter is more fulfilling than I imagined.

It’s more exciting than I had expected.

It’s more fruitful than I anticipated.

I wish I had let go earlier.

I wish I had followed when He asked.

I wish I had trusted instead of doubting Him.

But that doesn’t matter,

Because I am here now,

And He is with me.