Running from me. Desperately holding onto what she shouldn’t have. Squeals of delight that she’s gotten away (or so she thinks), turns to a high-pitched wail as I pry the object from her hand. Once again grandma has ruined her fun. What’s forbidden is taken away. Now I’m dealing with a full-fledged tantrum.
God can relate to my toddler-like moments, throwing a fit because He is taking out of my hand that thing I’m desperately trying to hold onto. When it comes to my children, holding onto…
My hopes. My plans. My dreams. My wants.
Here’s the reality, however. God has my children in the palm of His hand. I must hold them loosely in mine.
But I don’t. I run from Him, thinking I know better. I squeal with delight because it’s going my way. And then God takes it away. He doesn’t want to pry them from my hand, but He will if necessary. It’s so much easier to surrender. Less of a tussle. Wrestling God is something I’d rather leave to Jacob. Because I certainly don’t want to find myself limping after a match.
Here’s the thing…if I TRULY believe God loves my children and knows what’s best for them, I’ll leave them in His hands. I won’t keep snatching them away. I won’t try to hold on so desperately to what I think is right or best for them. I won’t run with my own plans for how to parent them. And I won’t throw a tantrum when things don’t go the way I wanted or expected.
It’s time to let go, to hold them loosely so God can hold them close.