Striving to Surrender
I have a restless streak in me. I’m often chasing what’s next instead of enjoying what’s right here and right now. No matter how much I have, I find myself wanting more, better, or different. The result is predictable: I feel hurried, stretched thin, and never quite satisfied. And I don’t think I’m alone. This is the cultural air we breathe; a constant pressure to prove ourselves and keep up, always afraid of falling behind.
Into this culture of discontent, Jesus speaks the counterintuitive good news that satisfaction doesn’t come from more, better, or different. In God’s upside-down kingdom the meek, the mourners, and the merciful are the ones who taste freedom and contentment. The weak are the strong ones. You gain your life by losing it. Jesus points us toward a mysterious way where poverty leads to abundance and power is made perfect in weakness.
This truth has been shaping the way I pray. Each morning I’ve begun talking to God about what I desire most. What are my hopes for the day? What am I really longing for? Over time I’ve noticed that, beneath all the surface wants, what I long for most is God Himself. When I encounter His love, even briefly, I taste a deeper peace. Slowly I am learning that contentment doesn’t come from control or from having things go my way…it comes from surrender. When I rest, wait, and trust, I cease striving and discover God’s sustaining presence.
Saint Ignatius called this kind of surrender holy indifference. It’s a posture of inner freedom that allows us to choose what honors God most instead of clinging to our preferences or fears. Paul describes it in Philippians 4 when he writes, “I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation.” Jesus points to it when He says, “But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.”
One of the ways I see this slow work of God in my own life is through friendship. Back in July, I spent a week with four friends I met in university more than forty years ago. We reminisced for hours. What a gift to walk through decades of joy and heartache with people who know both my best and my worst. Looking back over the long arc of those friendships, I can see small but real glimpses of how God has been growing contentment in me.
Spiritual growth is ordinarily like that…slow, steady, and nurtured alongside people who love us. Quick-fix breakthroughs make for powerful testimonies, but they rarely last. The deeper work of God is less flashy, more like a garden that grows well when tended.
Contentment doesn’t arrive in a rush of achievement or a single breakthrough moment. It grows slowly as we release our grip on control, trust God’s love in the present, and walk with companions who remind us who we are. I still feel the pull of “more, better, different,” but I’m learning through prayer, friendship, and God’s gentle patience that true satisfaction comes not in striving, but in surrender.
