Let Go! Trust, and God be with you!

Sickness, death, natural disasters, wars, the decisions of 
powerful people, the movements of the economy and so much else strips back the illusions 
(delusions?) of my being in control. More than that, when I finally let go of my presumed grip 
on life, whether by outside forces, resignation or surrender to something bigger, I discover a 
different way in life – and it feels okay! 
More than okay! When I surrender into the grace, mystery and the wonder of God I discover 
that I have what I need and a different path opens before me. I am constantly surprised and 
amazed at the possibilities and grace that opens before me, around me and embraces me and 
others around. 
I remember an occasion when I was busy with a group arranging a special service and it 
was chaotic and stressed for time. In the midst I received a call from a colleague asking me to 
visit a family in the local hospital. They had contacted him, but he was too far away and 
couldn’t get there, so indicated he’d arrange someone to go and be with them. He gave me 
some details of the deeply serious situation that confronted them and their child who hovered 
between life and death. He asked if I would go there and sit with them. 
As he talked, I felt my sense of control fading away. I already felt out of control in the 
situation I was in. The event planning was chaotic and difficult. I didn’t need something else, 
especially something so intense, difficult and confronting. Everything within me screamed, 
‘NO!’ I wished the whole thing would go away, that I hadn’t received the phone call and wasn’t 
being asked to go off into a space of pain, suffering and where I was almost completely out of 
control. Never-the-less, I went. I looked for something to take, something to hold onto, depend 
on – a prayer book, anything but there was nothing and so I went, vulnerable, helpless and 
uncertain – praying like mad! 
I drove to the hospital with desperate prayers on my lips, seeking God’s wisdom, grace, 
intervention – anything to make up for my own lack and sense of impotence. There, I found 
the couple and with a sense of trepidation introduced myself. They were expecting me and 
grateful for my coming. We sat, just outside their son’s room. He was sedated and nurses were 
tending to him. We three strangers meeting over a deeply painful and difficult situation and 
they poured out their story. It wasn’t the first time, but perhaps the fullest. They talked and 
talked, circled back and forth, naming their endless pain, their fear, their grief and uncertainty. 
There were tears and then some smiles and laughter as I asked them to tell me about their little 
boy. They described a fun-loving, adorable boy who lit up theirs and other people’s lives. They 
smiled at some memories before descending into tears again as the reality returned. We sat and 
talked – well they talked and I listened in helpless attentiveness and very prayerfully. In my 
mind and being there were silent prayers for this couple and their son, for the conversation and 
for words to say. I felt the impotence of not being able to fix their situation. I couldn’t say some 
grand and powerful prayer that would heal their son and restore him. I couldn’t give them 
profound words that would lift them out of their pain, pain I couldn’t take away. 
After a couple of hours, I asked if they wanted a prayer and they desperately did. We prayed, 
simply and from the heart, offering them and their son into God’s grace, seeking his well-being 
and strength and peace for them. I said goodbye, promising to return and giving my details in 
case they needed me. As I drove away, I thought about what has happened, because something 
had happened! God had been present in the midst of our shared conversation. God’s Spirit had 
opened us to a grace I can’t define or control – it came to me and them. We each were in a very 
different place following the conversation and prayer. God turned up and worked in our naked 
vulnerability. 
This was the paradox, that when I let go and allowed myself to be vulnerable, the couple 
found they were able to talk and be present. They didn’t want or need me to ‘do anything.’ 
They wanted someone to sit with them, to be there, to listen and to share their burden and pain. 
They wanted someone who would pray for them because they could not articulate prayers and 
didn’t have energy to draw on other resources. They had doctors who were working to restore 
their son, but they needed someone who shared their vulnerable place and show them faith and 
hope, a light in the midst of their deepest darkness. They didn’t need all the words and empty 
promises but the presence of one who would sit alongside them and witness to love and grace 
in the silence and acceptance of their vulnerability. What God wanted was me, vulnerable, 
impotent me. 
I thought of this as I read Matthew’s story of Jesus this week (Matthew 9:35-10:10) where 
Jesus sends the disciples out to proclaim the good news of God’s Reign and to cast out evil, 
heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, bring sight to the blind… He sends them out vulnerably – they 
are to take nothing with them but just go and rely on the grace of those who receive. They are 
to go, much as I was asked to go to the hospital, with nothing in hand, feeling unprepared and 
out of control – and to trust.  Jesus didn’t sugar-coat the task. There would be people who 
rejected them and ridicule them. The task was not easy as they were sent into a pain-filled 
world to be agents of hope, peace, life and grace – in God.  I can imagine their feelings, their 
questions, their anxiety. Having just been announced as disciples, their joy and pride may well 
have turned a little sour and they may have wished Jesus had chosen someone else – I certainly 
was wondering why I was asked to attend to the family at the hospital! 
They went. They did what they were asked to do, and they did it in the grace and love of 
God.  It seems that was enough!??! They were invited to let go of their need to be in control 
and ‘do’ something. They were to witness to what they saw, experienced, and knew through 
the ministry of Jesus. They were to witness through lives of love and grace, words and actions, 
to the Reign of God that was at hand – all around. This Reign that promises life, hope, peace, 
healing, justice, belonging, is there and we are invited to participate in it by letting go and 
allowing it to happen to us. 
I found, in attending to this family in their deep pain, that there was something profound 
and mysterious present in our vulnerable space.  God’s Reign entered into our experience and 
drew us into the hope and life it promises.  There were tears and struggle but also a sense of 
calm and peace as we journeyed through the boy’s treatment together – in God.