Fade to Black

Entering into the Land of Surrender

Surrendering used to be an endless turn into an uncertain future

But now I sit in a dark corner being cradled by it.

Alone with only my thoughts for company

This used to feel like home

Familiar.

Photo by Evie S.

I recently came across a post that redefined my perspective on surrender. It mentioned that we often define surrender as the act of releasing or letting go, however, it can also mean to stay, stand firm, and endure.

It can feel like the easier option to release (or run away depending on how your intention and heart posture stand) but there is beauty in staying. Waiting it out, seeing it through.

I am currently in a season of waiting, of choosing to stay amid God’s mercy and grace whilst swimming in a pool of patience. Is it comfortable? Heck no! Will the wait be worth it, I believe so. Yet, waiting in what feels like discomfort and uncertainty makes me cling to what I know to be true. It is through this misty lens of letting go, and remaining steadfast that makes me question…

Do I trust Him to bring it all together for my good?

Photo by DAVIDCOHEN

When I think about my trust in God, I have to sit with the concept of how I measure my trust. Is it a feeling, is it tangible in some way - How do you know when I have it? How do I know how to steward/sustain it? I am sure there are times when you have this same thought fluttering in your mind like a butterfly trying to land on soft petals; but really how do we know when we have surrendered it to God?

Jeremiah 17:7 (NLT) says

But blessed are those who trust in the Lord and have made the Lord their hope and confidence.

To trust in God is to have our hope and confidence pinned proudly on our outerwear, something we don’t tuck away inside, but wear where doubt can see it and fear can’t ignore it. It is believing that our faith cup is full even when it appears to be half empty.

Trust isn’t loud or uninvited. It rarely comes with lightning or applause. Often, it’s the whisper of your spirit saying, ‘He’s still God,’ even when the news, the numbers, or the mirror suggest otherwise. It is a bold, everyday declaration: “I still believe, even when I don’t yet see.”

Under the guise of surrender, trust lingers in the breath between chaos and clarity — in the decision to pray instead of panic, to praise instead of question.

Some days, trust looks like taking one small step while still trembling. On other days, it’s standing still and not turning back, even when that feels like the most instinctual. Either way, the Lord calls that trust. And He blesses it.

Photo by Pedro Vit

In the mental house I’ve built around my fears—walls patched with insecurities, memories, and half-healed wounds—I have become claustrophobic. I am choking on the amalgamation of taunting thoughts and fragile truths I thought I had already healed from.

And that is okay. It is human. I am human—having a spiritual experience. But the realisation I received today was this;

Open the windows and let the wind blow in.

It reminded me of Hosea 4:19 (NLT): “So a mighty wind will sweep them away. Their sacrifices to idols will bring them shame.”

Intrusive thoughts can become idols too; false fixations we return to, cradle, and defend. They keep us stagnant and complacent. They keep us from surrendering, whether that means letting go or remaining in peace. But if we open the windows, in faith, God’s mighty wind can do what we cannot: sweep them away.

And then? We can breathe again.

We create space—cleared, swept, ready—not just for clarity of mind, but for the blessing of God to take up residence.