Surrendering my will

On this day of your life, Jeffanne, we believe God wants you to know ... that as you surrender to divine providence in your life, you will feel lifted and carried and held.

All is well, all is well, all is well.

 

Now for the story behind this. In the past couple of months, it's been a struggle figuring what field in medicine I wanted to go into. In my head, I wanted to do one thing but in my heart I wanted to do something else. Looking back even further, it seems as if the question was already answered--I just needed to see it. From my fascination as child as I dissected lizards in our yard, to the thrill of doing it again (officially) in high school (we dissected a pig) and in medical school, well--cadavers didn't turn out to be that fun--but I knew at least then cutting was a thing for me. During my third year, though, I gave myself a chance to want to do something else every time I started a new rotation. Because in my mind, since I didn't look like a surgeon or I act like one, I could surely find something else to do. And really, what business did I have wanting to be a surgeon?

 

And that was exactly it. It wasn't that I wanted to be your typical surgeon. I wanted to do surgery. After spending six grueling weeks on the trauma team (the busiest surgery service at my institution), I figured I would be so traumatized (no pun intended) that I wouldn't want to do it. But no, the struggles I endured were not because of surgery itself. It was mostly the character-building sessions during rounds and in the OR. It wasn't the hours, it wasn't the lack of sleep, it wasn't the OR and it wasn't the patients, residents or attendings. It was me. I had difficulty accepting that at the end of the day, I was born to be a surgeon. That it was my calling. Whether I looked, talked, or walked the part. So after, waiting for my clerkship grade, talking to my attendings and a resident, I decided to accept the calling--on my own agenda. Did I know I wanted to do things on my own agenda? No, not consciously at least.

 

So that's where I found myself in the past couple of days. A nagging feeling, an unsettling in my spirit that's been there for a few weeks. And I haven't been able to put my finger on it until this past weekend. I found myself unable to sleep or stay focused on what I needed to do. I thought it was because my mom was leaving, and the fact that I needed to tell a friend we couldn't be spiritual partners anymore and even the fact that I finished a really good book series (Hunger Games). But no, none of these. The past listed things only made things more frustrating. So today, as I headed to work, I just knew that I wasn't going to work. I needed to sit and settle things out with God. Or else I wouldn't sleep. 

What a moment it was--the frustration, the fears, the tears, the struggle to relinquish it all--and then I was spent. And He told me one thing I needed to do: surrender my will. To surrender my agenda, how I wanted things to play, where I wanted to go, how I wanted to do this. Because He wasn't going to answer all the questions at once. Oh how foolish I can be. But with faith and honest trust (I have no other option but to), I surrendered my own agenda. And accepted God's agenda. The one that all the details aren't revealed yet and in my mind, the one that might mean I remain single. Set apart for Him. With no family of my own. No home to share. No offspring. An empty home. And ladies and gentlemen, that was the hardest part--saying yes to God and no to myself: "So today, I surrender my will to you. Whatever fears, indecisions, hurts, losses or whatever else may be hindering me from my calling, I surrender to you. Provide grace, mercy, peace and godly drive to finish this race, for the will You've called me to."

So you can only imagine, after being reminded 5x about knowing my calling, remembering who's in control, I have no other choice but to follow Christ. When I was 13 I said yes to Him, knowing that if He came a minute after I was reborn, my mother wouldn't be in heaven with me. And then, that was the most painful part of it. Losing my mother forever scared the life out of me. But still, at 13, I trusted that God knew what He was doing in my life. Now at 25, I'm doing it all again. This time it's my heart. I'm saying yes to God, knowing that there might be a chance I will remain unmarried for the rest of my life. Fortunately, the yes from when I was 13 still stands. I committed my life to Him then, and I am doing it now. Not for me. But for Him. For the people He will reach through me.

I accept my calling and surrender my own agenda, my will, my everything, for God's.