God of Letting Go
“Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.” Psalm 46:10 (NIV)
I'm not great at physically being still, so I was relieved, delighted, and intrigued to learn not long ago that a more direct translation of "be still" from the original language in Psalm 46 is "let go." It carries the idea of dropping or slackening.
I like to think (don't take this to the Hebrew bank, though) of an unclenching of the fists. I picture my hands tightly clutching something—a longing, a worry, a relationship, a project, a problem, a task—and the God of Letting Go prying my fingers open and asking me to turn my open palms over, surrendering whatever was in them to Him, then lifting my now-free hands in praise and worship and sacrifice and offering to Him.
This interpretation provides us with some sure footing for a few stops along our Ecclesiastes side trip.
We let go...and scatter stones.
We let go...and cease embracing.
We let go...and stop searching.
We let go...and throw away.
But this kind of "being still" is a lot more uncomfortable than simply not moving. What if we love those stones? What if we love what or whom we're embracing? What if we love the object of our searching? What if we love what we're being asked to throw away?
These are hard places of faith.
If what we're being asked to let go of is a person, we can know that God loves him or her, too..and more. If it's a desire or dream, we can know that God's plans for us are always for our good. And covering all this, we can know that God's first priority is always for us to know Him best, because that is for our best—and for the best of whatever or whomever we're holding onto.
Let go, my hands. Be still, my soul.
"Find rest, my soul
In Christ alone.
Know his power
In quietness and trust.
When the oceans rise and thunders roar,
I will soar with you above the storm.
Father, you are king over the flood.
I will be still and know you are God."
(From "Still;" Hillsong Worship; songwriter Reuben Morgan; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lAdwX8HypJM.)
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I'd love to hear from you! Feel free to tell me what you really think. Years ago, I explained to my then-two-year-old that my appointment with a counselor was "sort of like going to a doctor who will help me be a better mommy." Without blinking, she replied, "You'd better go every day." All of which is just to say I've spent some time in the school of brutal honesty!