Reflection

Letting go is so often misunderstood. For many, it is seen as a weakness. As giving up. As walking away from faith instead of walking toward it. But sometimes, holding on becomes its own form of resistance. It isn’t strength, it isn’t obedience, it isn’t just control disguised as hope. The longer you hold on, the heavier it becomes. You grip tighter, trying to fix what isn’t yours to fix. You revisit the conversation. You replay the decision. You hold your breath, waiting for the outcome to change. But deep down, you know that this is not peace. This is fear.

Letting go isn’t quitting. It’s surrendering — and there’s a difference.

To surrender isn’t to stop caring. It’s to stop carrying what you were never meant to. It’s saying, “God, I trust you with the parts of this season that my heart can’t make sense of. I trust you with the outcome I can’t seem to control.” It’s not about abandoning the prayer, or the faith. It’s about releasing the timeline. It isn’t about shaming the desire, but instead, offering it back to the one God who knows what you cannot see yet.

It takes so much more courage to loosen your grip and to let go, than to constrict around a chapter of your life and elbow your way forward. It takes steadiness to release what you once begged God to give you. And still, even if you don’t understand the detour, even if your hope feels heavy, you can trust the one who is leading you through it.

Letting go is not giving up on the goodness that exists in this world. It is believing that God is still good, even when the outcome looks different than you expected. That kind of trust, the kind that opens its hands instead of closing its heart, is where freedom begins.

Prayer

God, I’ve been holding on so tightly — to the outcomes, the timelines, the fear of what will happen if I let go. I’m tired of carrying what I was never meant to control. Teach me how to surrender, not as a last resort, but as an act of trust. Remind me that you are still writing my story, even when I release the need to know what happens next. Help me to believe that letting go isn’t failure, it’s faith — and I want to live by faith. 

Amen.