I was hanging on for dear life above a large ravine. I’d wrapped both arms and legs around a gnarly stump of a tree, leafless but still rooted into the cliff face. About ten feet above, I could see the level ground I’d been clawing and scratching towards. But as hard as I tried, I’d made no real progress these many years.
“This is impossible!” I cried out.
Then I heard a soft, but firm voice directly below me, saying “Let go.”
The Background
When I drive into work on summers days, I reverse things a bit. Rather than spending quiet, solitude with Jesus and then driving to work, I do the opposite. I fix my coffee and travel the twenty-five minutes before the traffic gets heavy. That early its cool. And with my convertible top down and the wind whipping across my bald head, the interstate drive is like a mini vacation. I pull under a shade tree in the back of the parking lot, drink my coffee, and pull out my Bible and journal to see what God wants to say.
A couple of days ago, as I communed with God in my outside “living room,” I felt an historic lie rising in my soul from the vestiges of its former fortress.
The message – It’s all up to me.
For years this lie was a stronghold in my soul, which I believed and defended. Growing up as the oldest child in an alcohol ridden, divorced family, I felt the yoke of responsibility at an early age. There were times, after my mom and dad separated, that the only communication between them was through me. (8^(
As my grandfather neared the end of his life, he conveyed that he expected me to look after my mother after he was gone. I was certainly glad to be there for my mom, and I did, but I was already fighting an over responsible tendency. Pop’s words just added to my feelings that It was all up to me. (8^0
In general, I was a compliant child, very eager to please. However, in my mid to late teens, I followed my friends into all manner of worldly activities. I guess I was trying to fit in and fill the joy hole in my heart.
But as all who try this path discover, all the world can give only leaves us wanting more.
It all came to a head one evening during my sophomore year at college. Trying to show off, by driving a bit reckless coming back from a night of cheap beer, I was arrested and thrown in jail for DUI.
Laying on the cell bunk, before my buddies bailed me out, I realized my search for joy had taken me down the wrong paths. In my soul, I knew God was the answer to my searching, but I didn’t know how to connect with Him. Especially since my lifestyle was far from holy.
Eventually, through talking with my best friend growing up and Chuck Colson’s book entitled Born Again, [1] I learned I didn’t have to straighten my life up to surrender to Jesus.
A year later, when I was 21 years old, I knelt beside my bed and gave my life to Jesus Christ. The act was sincere, but until God gave me a new set of friends to disciple me, my life looked no different from the outside.
As my journey of being a follower of Christ continued, I couldn’t shake the inner lie that life itself was up to me. I wanted to trust in Christ for life’s troubles, but I didn’t know how.
I prayed to give all my cares to Jesus, but deep inside I still believed it was up to me, I didn’t know how to truly trust in someone else.
It took me another 20 years to recognize I needed healing from this strong lie within. This followed by years of learning to disagree with the lie and agree with the truth of God’s word. His truth and prayer destroy the fortresses and speculations raised up against the truth and the knowledge of God. [2] It’s not up to me. It never was.
It’s up to me has lost it’s real power. But still, this hideous, prideful lie calls out from time to time from the vestiges of my “old self.”
This is what I was feeling the morning described above. If I’m not centered in the truth, I find myself vulnerable to fresh batches of brokenness and evil all around.
Back to the Tree
As I sat in front of the tree that morning and experienced the familiar lie, I wrote in my journal, “God do you want to say anything to me?”
Then I took out my blue pen to write down what I sensed He was saying.
Following is what I wrote. And It’s what brought up the thoughts of me hanging on the side of a cliff.
Robby, you strive so hard to be compliant, to please, not to fail. Hanging on to the gnarly stump of “I can do it,” as you dangle over a precipice of fear of failure and fear of rejection. Let go!
In my journal I wrote. “Yes Lord.”
And with as deep of a surrender as I knew how to give, I did. I let go.
As Paul writes in Ephesians 4, I, as much as I knew how, put off the old man and put on the New Man, which is Christ Jesus who indwells me. [3]
As I might have thought, letting go did not mean tumbling upon the rocks below, shirking the responsibilities, failing and letting everyone down.
It meant just the opposite.
In the Moments Sense
