Just this week, a dear friend of mine describes herself as “holding on to the edge for dear life so she doesn’t fall to the bottom of the well.”
You grip the well’s ledge, keep your chin up, and refuse to fall.
It’s a haunting image of a life lived in fear of surrender. My tight grip on the ledge represents a picture of what I cannot face on the road to personal transformation, freedom, and joy. I’m afraid of what’s down there if I journey deeper into places of brokenness. Can’t I just stay up here, white knuckled, with my jaw clenched, fighting?
All day, I consider how I need to let go of my tight grip on my life, trying to hold everything together in that desperate and clenched way that drains out the life and hope.
A friend looks her straight between the eyes and says, “You need to let go and fall to the bottom of the well.” That’s the way to begin to heal.
But what happens when she lets go? What fearful thing awaits? She cannot do this alone.
Another friend says, “I’ll fall to the bottom with you.”
And another, days later, adds: “God is at the bottom of the well.”
We release our grip, surrender to the work of healing God wants in our lives, and look around. We aren’t alone: Friends journey down into the darkness with us, and God himself embraces us at the moment we let go.
(Photograph of a well in Argentina, Creative Commons)
How do I let go?!? I know I'm fighting, but I'm not sure how to purposely release the edge and fall into Jesus' arms and love. Ha ha- I'm trying not to fall for Jesus!
seriously, I know I need to be still and sit with him, sort through the pain, but why is that so scary?
I need to face the danger, to me, of truly being connected to others, of truly being engaged in my professional vocation without the fears of either failure or success; I need to remove the life long chip on my shoulder which has long outworn its duty of protection and has become a hindrance. I, too, need to fall into the arms of Jesus – and it takes giving up my life as I know it to do so. That is why it is so scary.