The Art of letting go

Is God a nice God?

Is ‘letting go’ a brave act of surrender or merely giving up?

They say the hardest choice you’ll ever face is whether to walk away or try harder, but what if someone else gives up before you.  Do you let them walk away? Or do we grab hold of their leg shamelessly losing all self-respect and let them drag us a long as they try to get away from us? Do we even have a choice?

I’m pretty sure there is an art to letting go.  I’m pretty sure I don’t have it! In fact I’m certain I’m absolutely rubbish at it!  It says a lot about me I guess.  I am fiercely loyal.  Ask any of my friends, they know full well and from experience, you mess with one of them I’d personally rip the face of the perpetrator if they wanted me to – they never do funnily enough.  I also work hard.  I believe life is difficult and meant to be worked at in order to get the most out of it.  I believe good things don’t come easily and you have to work to get them and work even harder to keep them.  I think this should be true of everything perhaps except love.  Surely love should at least come easily even if it’s like holding on to a slippery eel to maintain it – or at least in my experience.

I know relationships are hard work but shouldn’t it be easy to love someone and to be loved??

Cliché phrases come about because they usually have some sort of truth or wisdom in them even if they do become a little simplistic or sugar coated along the way.  For example, if something seems too good to be true, it usually is – I realize I secretly believe this.

The problem is whatever we secretly believe determines our outlook, expectation and experience of life to a large extent in my opinion.

Do I believe God is nice?  I believe he is good as in ‘just’ but do I believe he is nice?  Hmm, I’m not so sure… Would he do something just because he thinks I’d like it?   Doesn’t everything have to have purpose in the big ole master plan?

Recently I was given something so beautiful, so perfect, so taken from my innermost secret dreams that I wondered if it was too good to be true. Well, guess what?  It was!  So what was that about?  Did I just serve a purpose in the plan, did the experience exist for the greater good of the greater plan. Or was it just a bit cruel?  Not so much a sick joke in a sadistic way, but not very kind.

Certainly as I get older I’m less sure about much more and realize I actually understand very little.  I’ve been contemplating the notion of whether we have a ‘right’ to be happy and fulfilled in life which is of course the message sold to us in this generation more than ever.

I’m known for going on about going for your dreams, about holding out for the life you’ve dreamed of and not accepting any less.  I still believe we should aim for the sky but I am less convinced we are entitled to this privilege.  I read a thought-provoking article recently that challenged the sense of entitlement today’s generation expects.  There are simply not enough dream jobs or dream people to go around.

When is it time to let go of the dream and start accepting reality?  But don’t the dreams to an extent also create our reality? My head hurts!

Even if we do want to let go, how do we do that?  How do you stop believing even something you no longer want to believe?

Recently I’ve been really gaining some spiritual revelations through The Magician’s Nephew by C.S Lewis while reading it to my son. Yes it is a kid’s book!  Like this is exactly what I meant about dreaming and hoping:

“Well, you know how it feels if you begin hoping for something that you want desperately badly; you almost fight against the hope because it is too good to be true; you’ve been disappointed so often before.”
― C.S. LewisThe Magician’s Nephew

Sometimes it’s difficult to know how to hope.  Hope is more than wishful thinking but I think it is also different to the certainty of faith.  I came to the conclusion that Hope can only come from believing that God is a good God and also a nice one.  When Digory (in The Magicians Nephew) resisted picking the apple for himself to take to his mother to heal her but stuck to what Aslan had asked him to do and returned with just one apple for him, he was sad and afraid that he had let his mother down – that his dream of seeing her well would no longer happen.  However, he’d forgotten about the power and heart of the one who had asked him to go on the task.  Of course, Aslan then gave him an apple to take to his mother.  The key was waiting until Aslan offered the fruit rather than taking it.  This is how it would have a lasting affect.  Aslan goes on to explain that although the witch would gain the benefits of the youth and beauty of the fruit, it was spoiled for her due to her stealing it, uninvited:

“Child, that is why all the rest are now a horror to her. That is what happens to those who pluck and eat fruits at the wrong time and in the wrong way. Oh, the fruit is good, but they loath it ever after.”
― C.S. LewisThe Magician’s Nephew

I’m sure it was no coincidence that I also heard Philip Yancey an Inspirational American author speak at the weekend on suffering and pain and our response to it.  He said many amazing things but the quote that stands out to me was, ‘Nothing that happened to you is irredeemable.  God is the great recycler who turns our junk into something better.’  So I guess there is always hope.  And as C.S Lewis says;

“When things go wrong, you’ll find they usually go on getting worse for some time; but when things once start to go right they often go on getting better and better.”
― C.S. LewisThe Magician’s Nephew

It’s a scary thing to wait, and not take matters into your own hands.  To trust that there is an even better plan. One that is given as a gift to you rather than a poor reflection from something you’ve plucked yourself at the wrong time and in the wrong way. Image

I strongly suspect that this might be the Art of letting go.

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6 thoughts on “The Art of letting go

  1. Reblogged this on Miss Alexandrina and commented:
    We all know that letting go is a painful, cold-hearted kick to the gut. Here, Loretta Andrews considers letting go and God. The first few paragraphs especially rung true for me.

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