Surrender, my Lord said. Become all Mine
when there is nothing left of you.
Absolute trust is required, I surmise,
to surrender absolutely.
I gathered the scattered shards
and splinters of my childhood trust
and with the glue of faith,
fashioned anew that bright, sturdy vessel.
When it had assumed a fragile shadow
of its former shape, I brought
it to my Lord for inspection.
In His infinite compassion, He stated –
You can’t bring that through My door.
Your trust, He explained,
must also be surrendered.
And I wandered into the desert,
my trust tucked loosely under my arm.
I can’t let it go – it’s my connection to Him.
I can’t keep it – it’s made of my own convictions.
Hold on to it, my Lord said. Honor it. Drink from it.
Use it in your prayers until the day
you can successfully crush it under your heels.
O child of God, illusion begets illusion.
Selfhood taints everything it touches.