Surrender is not a word our generation likes. It sounds like giving up, losing control, or choosing the harder road. Yet when I look honestly at my life and my journey with Jesus, surrender has been both the breaking and the making of me. It has been the path of pain, but also the place of encounter. It has been costly, confusing, stretching — and yet deeply sacred.
When I first became a Christian, my life felt like a long series of giving ups. At seventeen, I walked away from home with nothing more than a pair of jeans, two polo t-shirts, and ten dollars in my wallet. No backup plan. No family support. No inheritance waiting somewhere. Just a trembling “yes” in my heart and the quiet conviction that Jesus was worth obeying.
The Early Days of Surrender
As I reflect on those early days, I realise how fragile that season was. I had no roadmap. No mentors. No clarity about the future. My faith was young, my resources were little, and my understanding of God was small — but my yes was sincere. And sometimes, sincerity is the only currency Heaven recognises.
Along the way, God sent kind people who opened their homes to me for seasons. I also met sincere believers who encouraged me by saying, “This is part of carrying the cross.” Many of them shared powerful testimonies of leaving high-paying jobs or corporate success to answer God’s call. I honour their sacrifices — they were real and costly in their own way.
But my journey was different. As I listened, I noticed that many had families who supported them, savings to fall back on, or previous careers that gave them stability before entering ministry.
This is not a comparison — surrender is never a competition. But as I reflect, I realise God was shaping me in a particular way. He was teaching me how to trust Him with absolutely nothing in my hands. No earthly security. No financial cushion. No inheritance or backup support. Just His Word.
The Obedience That Doesn’t Make Sense
Twice in my life, I stood at the threshold of what could have been financial stability.
Twice the Lord called me out.
Once, into full-time ministry.
And years later, out of full-time ministry.
Both decisions made no sense on paper. Both came with cost. Both required me to walk away with empty hands and trembling faith. But both times, I knew the Lord had spoken. And for me, obedience has always meant following His voice even when the road ahead is uncertain.
Even now, in itinerant ministry:
I ask for nothing.
I demand nothing.
I choose to trust God to provide.
I walk through the doors He opens and relinquish the ones He closes.
There have been moments when I walked out of ministry settings with nothing but the conviction that obedience mattered more than comfort, more than position, and more than financial security.
Are such decisions foolish? Or are they simply obedience that the world cannot understand?
I have wrestled with that question many times. But then Jesus’ words rise again in my heart:
“Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.”
And suddenly, surrender becomes clear again.
The Word That Sustains the Wilderness
Living by the Word often does look foolish to the flesh.
It can seem:
illogical,
unreasonable,
inconvenient,
or even unnecessary.
But the wilderness is designed to teach us one thing — that God Himself is our provision. Not money. Not status. Not a secure plan. Not human support. Only Him.
In Scripture, when God called people, He rarely called them to comfort. He called them to Himself.
- Abraham stepped out without a map.
- Moses left the palace for the desert.
- The disciples walked away from boats, nets, and businesses.
- Paul laid down everything he once thought gave his life value.
Their surrender wasn’t symbolic. It was total. And it often came with a cost that could not be calculated.
What Has Surrender Become?
Today, we live in a culture obsessed with convenience, stability, and personal comfort. Even in the church, surrender can sometimes become measured obedience — steps we take only if they don’t stretch us too far.
We obey within limits.
We surrender with conditions.
We say yes, but only if God keeps it safe, reasonable, and manageable.
But true surrender has no fine print.
True surrender has no negotiation table.
True surrender is the place where God asks for everything — and gives Himself in return.
As I reflect on my own journey, I realise:
Surrender is not about losing everything. Surrender is about trusting God with everything.
And yet, trusting Him with everything feels like losing everything first.
Because surrender is not comfortable.
It is not predictable.
It is not logical.
Surrender is a cross before it is a crown.
Choosing the Other Way
So I ask myself — and I ask you:
In a world that chooses comfort, can we choose the other way?
In a generation that calculates everything, can we obey without a calculator?
In a society driven by security, can we embrace sacred risk?
Because in the kingdom:
Surrender is strength.
Surrender is worship.
Surrender is trust.
Surrender is the soil where God writes His best stories.
And I’m still letting Him write mine.
