November message

Sometimes, in life, you have to let go. Don’t you? Things happen, and it feels like you’re hanging over a cliff, with no strength to climb back up. You’re scared about what will happen if you let go. But you don’t have any choice. Isn’t that awful? No, that’s good, because you’ll never know if God will catch you unless you let go.

A man walked across a railway bridge during the night. A train came towards him, so he climbed over the side and hung on for dear life. Then he couldn’t get back up. He imagined falling hundreds of feet to his death. But he held on until the sun came up. Then he looked down and he was three inches from the ground.

Our faith says, ‘Go ahead and let go. Trust God.’ We have trouble with that. We want control. But God says, ‘Let go of the stuff where you’ve got to make yourself right. When you do, you’ll learn to trust me.’

God’s not tame. Sometimes we try to let go. We say, ‘Lord, if I trust you, will you promise I won’t get hurt?’ Well… No. ‘Will you promise that, if I do it right, I will feel good and become a more faithful and obedient Christian?’ Well… No. ‘Will I feel better about myself, have a better self-image?’ Sometimes. Sometimes not. ‘What about my doubts and fears. Will they go away?’ Sometimes. Sometimes they’ll get worse. ‘If I tell you what I want, have faith and pray properly, will you give it to me?’ You’ll find out.

I have that conversation a lot. I have since found that a lot of the doubts, fear, confusion I felt have only one purpose - to get rid of this silly notion that God is controllable. He’s not. If you think you’ve got God worked out and controlled, you’re worshipping an idol.

I’m learning how little I actually control. We didn’t control where we were born, didn’t decide who our parents were, what circumstances played in our growing up. We can’t control our husbands, wives, children, without emotionally killing them. We pretend we’ve got it together, with few fears, and in control. But when we come before God, we realise we can’t control him. So we either get angry, go into denial, or learn to trust him.

That’s what children do. Jesus tells us to be like little children. Children trust. Mainly they trust because they have no power. President Lincoln said, during the American Civil War, that he got on his knees in prayer because there was nothing else he could do. A child is without power. A child can’t loan you money, or pull strings for you. A child’s fame won’t rub off on you, and a child can hardly help you out.

I have great problems with these motivational programmes that tell people how wonderful, powerful and successful they will be if they just do this and that. God doesn’t say that. In fact, with God there is nothing we can do except pray and trust.

When Carlo Hereto was young, he moved swiftly up the ecclesiastical ladder of the Catholic Church. Then, aged forty-four, he was summoned by God to the desert. He joined The Little Brothers of Jesus, in contemplation and prayer. In his book: ‘Letters From The Desert.’ He said: ‘I discovered I was nothing, that I was responsible for no one, that I was a man of no importance, and it gave me the joy of a boy on holiday.’ That’s what is means to be childlike - to recognise that the power is his and not yours.

I’m realising how little I can change about my lack of power. That is childlikeness. Childlikeness is helplessness and trust. Childlikeness is also knowing there’s no point being miserable over things you can’t control. So, dance and sing! God is so big, so awesome, and so God, that anything excessively serious or pompous seems to be just silly and superficial. Instead, I find myself overjoyed by what God has done.

So, be children before your heavenly Father. Realise your helplessness. Learn to trust no matter what. Take God so seriously that, despite this world, you can do nothing other than dance and sing.