You have given me so much
responsibility, Lord, that I often don’t feel capable of handling your
trust. I feel lacking, tired, and pushed to the maximum. But in the midst of
all this pressure, you call me to realize that my burden is not heavy. It is
light. You carry what I am unable to carry on my own. You carried the weight of
my sin to the cross, and because of your love, I can know the freedom of your
Spirit structuring my days—empowering what you deem important—letting me know
when something is not a priority or when it is. The things that wait to be
handled—both the real and perceived responsibilities—are in your control when I
allow you to direct my days.
“Trust in the Lord and do what is good,” the
psalmist wrote. “Take delight in the Lord, and He will give you your heart’s
desire. Commit everything to Him. Trust Him. He will help you. Be still in His
presence, and wait patiently for Him to act” (Psalm 37:3-7). I trust you with
all my heart—not just a portion of my heart, but with all of it. I surrender my
understanding for yours. I seek your wisdom instead of my own. I look beyond my
failures and weaknesses and realize you are my only strength. Fear is never my
master. You are. I choose to delight in you, Lord. I choose to praise you in
the storm. My sacrifice of praise is my gift to you. In my offering I discover
that you have taken the weight of responsibility upon your shoulders. The
things you have called me to handle are yours. If I allow you to guide and
direct and choose what is important for each day, I am no longer overwhelmed. I
am no longer lacking.
I will trust you. Not just say it,
but live it—breathe it. I will not carry the weight you never meant for me to
carry. I will rejoice and delight in you. You are faithful, and you never fail
me. You never change. You are constant, and I can always rely on you. I commit
every decision and every responsibility to you. I give you my tired heart, and
I rest in your purpose. There is no rush. There is no struggle. There is no
need to make something happen that perhaps you never intended. My will is no
longer at war. It is free for you to make your own.
© 2017 Lynn Lacher
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