The Word I Didn't Want to Hear

The Lord delights in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love.

- Psalm 147:11 (NIV)

When the new year arrived, I read many Instagrammers sharing their “word for the year” they had received from the Lord. I heard of others doing something similar, and admittedly, I found the idea foolish. But then—curious—I wondered if God had a word for me.

It’s rare for God to answer me so clearly and directly, but when I asked Him, I immediately received a word: 'Surrender.'

Hmm. Hadn’t I already surrendered so much? My career? My home? My family—including my daughter?

Two years earlier, my daughter, Tas, graduated high school and joined a mission organization in Hawaii. When I went to visit her for a week, I encountered God in powerful, supernatural ways daily.

On one of those days, I went on my first snorkelling excursion. Dropping into the water, I surveyed the scene before me in astonishment. Sunlight lit up the ocean world in spectacular ways. Its rays danced with the gentle rise and fall of the water. Bright-colored fish darted around me, some pecking at the coral below. Reef structures in hues of pink, purple, yellow, and orange created a maze of beauty and shelter for the marine life swimming between them. Dark volcanic rock served as a dramatic backdrop. Tiny bubbles floated, suspended in the water everywhere. Tranquility filled me, and I sensed God’s sacred presence more than I ever had before.

“What are all these bubbles?” I asked the guide when I surfaced.

He raised his eyebrows and shook his head, “Are you on drugs?”

I had my answer and ducked back beneath the surface, certain God had a message for me. Floating in the warm salt water, I gazed at the rays streaming in.

God, what are you trying to tell me? Tears welled in my eyes as a lump formed in my chest and throat. His loving presence cocooned me.

It wasn’t a voice I heard, but a thought: Surrender Tas.

I shook my head. Surely I heard wrong. But the thought came again and again, as gentle as a soft caress. The story of Abraham and Isaac in the book of Genesis appeared. To test his faith, God instructed Abraham to sacrifice Isaac on an altar. Abraham obeyed. But God intervened before the tragic outcome, sparing Isaac’s life.

Oh God, please don’t ask me this.

For eighteen years, I raised my only daughter as a single mother. She was the Rory to my Lorelai. Right or wrong, we were connected to each other in an unusual way.

Surrender her to Me.

Floating in the serenity of His sweet presence, I knew I could trust Him. I knew I had to obey, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to cling to her. I wanted to keep her close. I wanted to be the one to protect her. But the thought continued, encouraging me, until I relented. Until I obeyed.

Please take care of her. I let the tears flow as God comforted my anguished, defeated heart.

Upon returning home from my visit to Hawaii, God prompted me to quit the teaching position I had held for twenty years and join the same mission organization as my daughter—but in a different part of the world. I left the comforts of home to live among an assortment of people in a room lined with bunk beds, eat cafeteria-style food, and follow a packed daily schedule.

I met and married my husband. A year later, we found ourselves volunteering in yet another location, where, providentially, my daughter was attending a nearby school. I relished the opportunity to see her—walking to campus as often as possible just to catch a glimpse of her.

And then January came—and the dreaded word: 'Surrender.'

Unsure of what I needed to surrender, I went about my life without much thought. But then, God gave me a series of repeated dreams warning me of upcoming rejection. I feared the worst and braced myself, but I wasn’t prepared for the source of the rejection.

My daughter began to express her frustration with my desire and efforts to connect.

Distressed, I sought God for answers. Gently, He revealed that while I may have surrendered Tas in the ocean that day, I had taken her back into my embrace—holding on too tightly.

As a young adult, Tas needed me to let her go, to allow her the freedom to explore life and discover who she was and who she wanted to become, apart from our bond.

Surrender her to Me.

The same words. The same request. The reality that I had picked her back up from the altar tormented me. I knew it was true.

But I also knew I had to obey.

Now, I’m consciously aware of releasing her. Daily. Step by step. Understanding that it’s a process. And God is meeting me in the moments where it feels too hard. Too painful. His soft whisper is constant, reassuring me that He will carry me through.

'Surrender.' The word I didn’t want to hear.

I may not yet know what He has in store, but I know I need to surrender in order for God to move—to fill my empty, outstretched hands with His purpose. With His plan. With His love. And so each day, I choose to surrender her again—not as a loss, but as a way to trust He will take care of her and a way for me to love Him more deeply.

Let's pray: Lord, thank you for reminding me to always put you first. You are faithful, just and loving. Even though I may not understand everything You are doing, I trust you. Thank you for taking care of my daughter (son). Thank you for showing me that she (he) needs her (his) independence from me to grow into the beautiful woman (man) of God that you are molding her (him) to become.

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