A year ago, I sat on my bedroom floor (as I often did), and poured my guts out to Father. I told Him that everything I had was His. And I meant it. I truly, in the intense, profound, glorious Presence, wanted Him to have every atom of me.
Fast-forward to last week. I’m sitting on my bedroom floor, worn-out, hair falling out from stress, lungs filled with particles of pollutants; I’m suffocating under the weight of loss and grief. Homesickness and culture-stress has hit me again, and I can’t bear it. Pursuing His call overseas cost so much more than I ever dreamed.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” I bitterly whisper to Father, spitting out the tears that have crept into the crease of my mouth. “I’ve given you everything.” How could I possibly give Him more? I’ve assessed the damage… I’ve given Him my future, my comfort, my family, my future hope of marriage, etc. What more could He want?
He asked me something in that moment… something that completely unhinged me: “But Abby, aren’t I enough?”
I want to believe that He is, but sometimes, I struggle.
I think sometimes I surrender for the sake of obedience; it’s what my faith requires of me. But I think Father intended surrender to communicate so much more than obedience. It says that He is, in fact, enough. It speaks of His great worth. The beauty of surrender is that it is a constant act of worship. “You are worth more than even this,” it says, “and that is enough for me.”
It doesn’t always feel like I’m screaming out “You are enough” when I’m curled up on the floor, sobbing, blubbering, and aching to have back what I gave to Him. Most of the time, I feel bitter over having lost something I loved so dearly, but He is in the business of sweetening the bitterness in me. His precious reminder that His worth is proclaimed in surrender fills up the deep and wide in my heart.
Surrender is more than giving up what we cling to; it is taking hold of His goodness and allowing Him to fill the empty spaces left behind. He is worth every ounce of pain that the act of surrender inflicts on us. Simply stated, He is always enough.