“All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.”
DEUTERONOMY 23-25
JOURNAL
Last night I stayed up too late watching clip after clip from the war with Iran. Missiles, headlines, commentators speculating about what might happen next. Before long I realized I had been pulled into projection and worry. My mind was running scenarios and imagining outcomes about things that are completely outside my control.
This morning I was reminded of something simple. That is not my focus today. Letting events that I cannot control shape my heart, my mood, and my actions today would be foolish. “All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.” There are things I must release to God and there are things I must hold tightly. Faith. Presence. The responsibilities right in front of me.
Reading the account of Jesus before the high priest in Mark is almost unbearable. The Messiah, perfect and blameless, is accused of blasphemy, mocked, spit upon, and struck. As a parent I cannot imagine watching something like that happen to my own child. If I were in God’s place I know what I would want to do. Lightning bolts would have ended the scene immediately.
But God did not intervene.
That silence reveals something powerful about love and trust. Sometimes love does not look like stepping in and stopping the pain. Sometimes love means allowing a path to unfold that is larger than our instinct to protect.
As a parent there are times when I must intervene and shield my children. But there are also times when my protection can become a problem. There are moments when stepping in too quickly prevents them from experiencing the place where God wants to meet them.
I hate that part of parenting. Everything in me wants to fix things, to rescue them, to smooth the road ahead. Yet I know that if I become the constant protector and solver, I risk creating dependence on me instead of dependence on God. And that is not the goal.
What I want most for my adult children is not an easy life and not even constant success. What I want most is for them to know God deeply. I want them to trust Him when things do not make sense. I want them to recognize and trust the Spirit God has already placed within them. If they learn that, if they learn to trust God with all their heart and listen to His Spirit within them, they will have something far stronger than anything I could manufacture for them.
So today I hold on to what matters. Faith. Trust. Presence with my family. The work God has placed in front of me. And I let go of the rest.
Last night I stayed up too late watching clip after clip from the war with Iran. Missiles, headlines, commentators speculating about what might happen next. Before long I realized I had been pulled into projection and worry. My mind was running scenarios and imagining outcomes about things that are completely outside my control.
This morning I was reminded of something simple. That is not my focus today. Letting events that I cannot control shape my heart, my mood, and my actions today would be foolish. “All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.” There are things I must release to God and there are things I must hold tightly. Faith. Presence. The responsibilities right in front of me.
Reading the account of Jesus before the high priest in Mark is almost unbearable. The Messiah, perfect and blameless, is accused of blasphemy, mocked, spit upon, and struck. As a parent I cannot imagine watching something like that happen to my own child. If I were in God’s place I know what I would want to do. Lightning bolts would have ended the scene immediately.
But God did not intervene.
That silence reveals something powerful about love and trust. Sometimes love does not look like stepping in and stopping the pain. Sometimes love means allowing a path to unfold that is larger than our instinct to protect.
As a parent there are times when I must intervene and shield my children. But there are also times when my protection can become a problem. There are moments when stepping in too quickly prevents them from experiencing the place where God wants to meet them.
I hate that part of parenting. Everything in me wants to fix things, to rescue them, to smooth the road ahead. Yet I know that if I become the constant protector and solver, I risk creating dependence on me instead of dependence on God. And that is not the goal.
What I want most for my adult children is not an easy life and not even constant success. What I want most is for them to know God deeply. I want them to trust Him when things do not make sense. I want them to recognize and trust the Spirit God has already placed within them. If they learn that, if they learn to trust God with all their heart and listen to His Spirit within them, they will have something far stronger than anything I could manufacture for them.
So today I hold on to what matters. Faith. Trust. Presence with my family. The work God has placed in front of me. And I let go of the rest.