The Moment of Surrender
What Does It Take?  Article Extras
 

 
by Sandra Higley  Issue #27 November/December 2001 

Armed with my Bible and prayer journal, I sat in the cool confines of the surgeon's waiting room. They offered me coffee, and I accepted. As I penned my prayers to God, a peaceful bubble descended over me, and time passed quickly. I recounted in ink the many, many answers to prayer I had seen over the past year, thankful for each one. God had graciously drawn me into an incredible journey of prayer, and the more I prayed, the more answers I saw. My faith had been strengthened with each answer and my prayers had grown bolder. More answers, more faith. I was confident that this situation would be no different.

My 16-year-old son, Mark, had discovered a lump on his neck. At first, it appeared to be no more than a swollen gland. But as weeks went by and it didn't go away, I made an appointment with our family physician. He had a surgeon take a look, and the surgeon agreed that it should be removed. So there I sat, waiting for the procedure to be completed so we could go home. It was truly wonderful to experience the peace I found while journaling my prayers for my son's full recovery. I had complete confidence that God was good.

Soon the doctor, in full surgical garb, came and sat across from me. I closed my prayer journal and put away my pen to give him my full attention. Something, however, about the look on his face, the way he slouched in the chair, made my stomach do a flip-flop. As he began to talk, I felt myself falling into some kind of deep hole. There was an odd ringing in my ears. Why wouldn't he look me in the eyes? I wanted him to say that things went great—it was nothing, just as they expected. I wanted him to say it was just a cyst or some other nonthreatening irritation. Of course they would send a tissue sample to the laboratory for routine testing, but it was only precautionary.

But that's not what he said. He said the growth was suspicious looking. He said that there was no way of knowing what we were dealing with until the report came back from the lab. That would take several days, and all we could do was wait.

He went on with more information, but I couldn't hear him anymore. Fear gripped my heart and I could hardly breathe as the Enemy launched an all-out attack. Thoughts plagued me of the price I might be "required to pay" for spending so much time as an intercessor in spiritual warfare. What if God said "no" this time? What if the tumor was malignant? What if . . .?

As the next few days crept by, I was grateful for my already-established relationship in prayer with the Father. It was comforting just to be in His presence, to tell Him how frightened I was, and to cry in His lap. Then, in anguish, I would beg for my son's life and health. But through it all, there was that nagging, persistent doubt that this time things might be different. I might not get what I was pleading for.

One morning, as I sat quietly before Him, I sensed Him wanting to talk. I realized my prayers had been consumed with self-absorbed requests that left no room for Him to share His heart with me. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear what He had to say, but I finally relaxed enough to open up to Him.

Do you really believe that I am good? I felt His words inside my heart.

"Yes." I did believe that, didn't I? He had proved it to me over and over.

All the time?

I hesitated. "Yes," my answer finally came.

And do you believe that I love Mark? Do you believe that I have a plan for his life—a plan to prosper him and not to harm him? Do you trust Me?

Suddenly, the reality of what He was asking me broke through. If I really, truly believed that God is good—good all the time—and that He had a specific plan for my son's life—including its quality and duration—why would I want Mark to live one more day on this earth than my Father wanted him to?

It was a defining moment. As I sat there wrestling with the enormity of His love and goodness, along with His absolute right to my child—His child, whom He had created for His purposes—tears began to splash down my cheeks. His love and goodness won out: I was finally able to pray "Not my will, but Yours be done" sincerely and without reservation.

Over my years as an intercessor, I've learned some things about letting go of my own will and praying God's. Of course I want my prayers to be effective. I want to see answers. But more importantly, I want to partner with God to impact His kingdom. To do that, I must pray His will. I need to be able to seek and pray with accuracy His will on any given subject. His will, not mine.

A Heart with No Will of Its Own

Step number one of George Mueller's formula for seeking God's will is, "I seek at the beginning to get my heart into such a state that it has no will of its own in regard to a given matter." How do we do that? How do we make sure that our hearts have no motivation other than His glory? The things we can think of to pray for people might be well-intentioned, but if they are not His perfect plan, they fall short: "‘For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,' declares the LORD. ‘As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts'" (Is. 55:8�?). Subconsciously super-imposing our will into our intercession is an easy pitfall.

Moses learned to trust the Lord even when the answer wasn't what he wanted to hear. Far from being a wimpy intercessor, Moses had a track record of boldly asking God to reconsider—laying hold of Him with perseverance. No doubt, when Moses was faced with banishment from the Promised Land and his impending death, he wrestled in prayer before God. But he didn't disobey. When confronted with the same directive, however, the children of Israel decided to take things into their own hands and entered Canaan anyway (Dt. 1:22�?5). The Lord warned them not to enter the land in their own strength, but they didmd;and were utterly defeated. The enemy "chased [them] like a swarm of bees" (v. 44).

Watching the results of Israel's willful response to God undoubtedly helped bring Moses to a place of relinquishment. But his desire to know God intimately—to really know Him—must have brought Moses further, to a place of complete trust and acceptance: "I will proclaim the name of the LORD. Oh, praise the greatness of our God! He is the Rock, his works are perfect, and all his ways are just. A faithful God who does no wrong, upright and just is he" (Dt. 32:3�?).

My son's tumor turned out to be benign. Some people might have thought that my anguished hours of struggling through to a place of surrender were wasted time, given the outcome. But in that wrestling, I learned a priceless lesson. For me now, the best way to "get my heart into such a state that it has no will of its own" is to return to that defining moment. Do I believe God is good? Do I believe He is good all the time? Do I really believe that His plan is best in every situation? Not to trust Him would indicate that I think I know better than He does. But He is God and I am not.

Knowing Him is the key. It simplifies surrender. If I know Him, why would I want to pray for anything other than His will?

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About the author:
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Sandra Higley is the editorial assistant for Pray! and PrayKids!. A seasoned intercerssor, Sandra has developed and maintains Pray's team of intercessors. She is often called upon to develop, write, or work with our authors on our many prayer guides.