The Art of Surrender

One of the most disappointing lessons I’ve learned — and continue to learn over and over again — is that I can’t control the world and the people living in it. Try as I might, my sphere of influence often is no larger than what to feed myself and my children for dinner on a Tuesday night; and even then, my control is limited to whether or not two young children will actually eat a healthy meal put before them. 

With you, I exist in a world that tricks me into thinking that I have more than 24 hours in the day and that, if I get involved enough or scream loud enough, I can change the world to better fit my own interpretation of God’s vision. 

If you’re like me, coming face to face with simply being a human trying to make it in the world has you asking yourself, “Why do I even try?” It was on one of these dark nights of my soul several years ago that I discovered a collection of watercolor markers long forgotten and buried in a corner of my house. I dug them out, put ink to paper and, without a vision or a plan, just started playing. I began to share my amateur doodles on my social media accounts.  

I don’t know why I started posting such simple, messy pieces. But something happened when I opened myself up to sharing new-to-me creative practices: other people joined me on the journey. Friends and people I didn’t even know started to share their own reflections and creative practices. We shared our humanity with the world, and grace was there.  

Diana Faulds’ poem “Allow” speaks to the experience of letting go only to experience grace anew. To engage one’s innate creativity is a powerful way of letting go of the need to control. Being creative, by definition, is to put something into the world that wasn’t there before. Every time someone thinks, speaks, draws, or paints, they are participating in God’s creative work in the world.  

What if engaging our faith isn’t about controlling our relationships with God, one another, and the world but is about bearing witness to the truth of God’s grace and love? Picking up paints and brushes has offered me a way of entering the world with curiosity about what happens when I loosen my grip on the world. In this loosening, I have found a beloved community of people who simply show up and share what it is that God is up to through their creativity. I would love for you to jump into the journey with us. What are the markers or paints that you have stashed away that could be a starting point for you?

Rev. Stephanie B. Dunn is a United Methodist minister, Clergy and Holistic Life Coach, and the author of the new Lent devotional, Draw Close: A Creative Companion for Lent.

This reflection appeared in the March edition of The Upper Room Journal, a monthly newsletter to support you in creating daily life with God. Subscribe here.

Journal Prompts

What forgotten creative tools do you have lying around that could be a new avenue for spiritual practice this Lent? 

How do you experience God’s creative work in your daily life? 

How do you discern between what you can change and what you must surrender? 

What small, daily act of creativity could you commit to as a spiritual practice this Lent? 

Share your responses with others in the comments below!