Month: May 2024

I was listening to a clip of Joel Olstein on Instagram (no, I won’t write about that debate, and no I don’t read a lot of his stuff, but he makes a few good points.) anyway, what he said struck a nerve. He said, “kiss and let go”, he then read from the book of Ruth and said Naomi kissed and let her one daughter in-law Orpah go with a kiss. It was at that part that got me thinking.

If you aren’t familiar with this story, it is from the Bible. Infact it’s just a short book about two women, one a Monther-in-law, Naomi the other Ruth a kind daughter-in-law who faced hardships together.

All though this book/story is great and so much to learn from it was the part that Joel Olstein said about kissing her daughter in-law goodbye, as in wishing her well. No hard feelings. He spoke how Orpah was free, released from the need to fallow Naomi to her homeland.

Ruth left her homeland and followed her mother-in-law to a new land and that is a noble thing to do, and I have always admired her strength to do that, but I always overlooked the big Leason that Orpah showed us, that as noble and wonderful as Ruth’s gesture was it wasn’t for her, it wasn’t her path.

How many of us know when it is ready to move on? Know that even if it seems like the best thing to do, we shouldn’t do it because it’s not for us?

Do you struggle with this like I do at times? It may be something as noble as what Ruth did, like taking care of people, the dream job or opportunities that you’ve been dreaming about, and they are in reach but there is something deep down that is saying as amazing as it is it’s not for you.

Maybe we quiet or stifle that voice because we don’t have people kissing us goodbye instead, we have the pressure from them to “do the right thing” so we quiet that voice and just keep doing what looks perfect for us by their standards.

But it’s time to break free from the pressure and start listening to that voice. I believe God uses that voice to guide us on the path that is just perfect for us.

We all have our own unique dreams, desires, and passions. God put them there, he knows what is best for us. And it’s up to us to pursue them fearlessly, even if it means going against what looks like the perfect opportunity.

We may not have people in our life that kiss us goodbye wishing us well but it’s up to us to move on to what is best for us and rest in the knowledge that if we don’t have people to wish us well, we have our Heavenly Father who does.

Zephaniah 3:17

The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing.

In life, there are moments when faith is all we can cling to, a fragile bridge between the known and the unfathomable. But what does it truly mean to have faith? Is it a compelling desire to see our deepest desires come to pass, a la a genie in a bottle, or does it challenge us to relinquish control, to submit ourselves to the grander design God has for us?

My belief in the latter hinges on the concept of surrender—a notion often misconstrued as a passive act. On the contrary, I see surrender as the most radical display of faith. It is the moment when we step back, open our palms, and give the reins to the divine, understanding that our limited vision pales in comparison to His omniscience.

This perspective on faith, as a call for surrender, is rooted deeply in personal experience. In a recent season of my life, I was confronted with a new health challenge—losing my voice. It was an unexpected blow, one that carried the threat of permanence. In those initial waves of frustration and anger, I found myself at a crossroads—torn between belief and doubt, between holding onto my own desires and yielding to a greater plan.

I was instantly reminded of the biblical account in Mark 9:26-28, where a father pleads for Jesus to heal his possessed son, crying out, “I believe; help my unbelief!” The man’s plea was not a simple request for wish-fulfillment; it was a desperate confession, an acknowledgment of the war within his soul. Much like the father in this narrative, I too was torn.

In my own narrative, surrender was not a single act but a series of choices, daily recommitting to trust that everything would be alright, regardless of the outcome. Divine assurance did not come with immediate healing or a miraculous change in circumstances, but rather through the peace that washed over me when I chose to surrender, to lay my will at the feet of a loving and all-powerful Creator.

It was this very surrender that rendered my faith unshakeable, grounded no longer in the expectation of my own will being done, but in the recognition and acceptance of a higher purpose beyond my comprehension.

The paradox of surrender lies in its potential for liberation. By letting go of our need to control every outcome, we can experience a freedom that transcends our circumstances. It doesn’t mean we resign ourselves to passivity; instead, we take action from a place of peace and trust, actively waiting, knowing that what is for us will not pass us by.

The power of surrender is in the stillness it creates. In our most desperate moments, when darkness threatens to consume us, it beckons us to step back and allow the light to shine through. This isn’t an admission of defeat but rather a declaration of strength, proclaiming that our faith in something greater than ourselves is unyielding.

In a world that often glorifies self-reliance and control, surrender may seem counterintuitive. Still, it is this very act that bestows upon us the resilience to weather life’s storms. It allows for a faith that endures, unwavering in the face of uncertainty.

And so, with each breath, with each step, I choose surrender. I choose to believe that, regardless of the path I walk, I am guided by a force more substantial than my own, whose love and wisdom can shape even the most grievous trials into opportunities for growth.