Surrendering

I wonder if I’ve been thinking about this all wrong.  If I’ve had a false image in my mind all this time.  Maybe I don’t have to be roasted on a spit or kneel all day in a shaft of light.  Maybe I don’t have to stop being human and stop living my life.  Maybe I do get to live my life, but slowly.  Quietly.  Maybe to surrender to God means to walk in the woods with a clear mind.  Maybe to surrender to God means to walk in the woods with awareness.  To feel the road beneath my feet.  To hear the woodpecker drumming in the top of a tree.  Maybe to surrender to God—to say, Your grace and Your love are wealth enough for me; give me these, Lord Jesus, and I ask for nothing more—maybe that means, Lord, give me this moment.  Lord, help me slow down.  Lord, help me be myself.  Fully myself.  God created all these things in Christ, God loves all these things in Christ, all these things continue in being in Christ.  I continue in being in Christ.  Do I really think that He cares less about me than He cares about anything else?  That’s blasphemy!  There is no place where Christ is not, even in me, right now.  I am walking down a gravel road.  I glimpse the valley in the distance, then the mountains.  My dog bounds away in front of me.  I am surrendering myself to Christ.  Christ has given me His grace and His love.  He has given me the day.  He has given me my life.  I ask for nothing more.