Letting Go (again and again)

Bob Newhart appeared on the comedy show Mad TV years ago and performed a skit with the actress Mo Collins. Mo plays a woman who had a first time visit with a psychiatrist, played by Newhart. In this meeting, she gives him a litany of complaints about what is ailing her—her fear of being buried alive in a box, her regular panic attacks, her claustrophobia, her eating disorder, and her tendency to have self-destruction relationships with men. He responds the same way every time she pauses to let him drop in his two cents. He looks at her incredulously and barks, “Stop it! Just stop it!” She is, of course, taken back by his ridiculous and offensive advice, and retorts that she can’t just stop it. The doctor continues to respond by telling her she is silly and to “Just stop it!”

It’s a hilarious skit that reminds me of the Christianese phrase I often hear. “Let go and let God.” As if it is so easy. Or as if it is a one-time deal. There are many things we need to let go of in life, and this advice relates mostly to worry and anxiety. We are supposed to stop worrying and let God worry for us. The reality, of course, is that it’s not so easy.

What does it feel like to let go? It’s usually not an altar experience, that’s for sure. Well, maybe it can start of with something like that. But the teary Sunday night church service comes and goes and Monday through Saturday tail right behind it. Typically by Tuesday (at best), whatever we have let go of is back and, perhaps it’s even worse. (If you know how to surrender your stuff to God without remembering or even reminding yourself of it the next day, perhaps you can show me how.)

The things I hold on to—my desperate need to know or to control, my worry, my fears—seem to be crazy glued in my clenched fists. What I’m realizing is that if I allow God the pleasure of intervening in this sometimes gut-wrenching journey, He begins to ever so slowly and gently (but sometimes painfully in my heart) pry my fingers off of the things I’m defensively holding onto.

Jesus once said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light (Matthew 11:28-30).”

Many of us are tired. Our burdens weigh more than we do. Our yokes are too oppressive to just shake off. So Jesus offers us an invitation to get rid of those things. To give Him our baggage and, in turn, receive His rest. For those of us who find this command, which is what I really think it is, hard to live out, let me remind you that you don’t just come to Jesus once or twice. It has to be a recurring event. Don’t feel bad if you can stop worrying after two or ten “Please, God, help me not to worry about this.” Keep praying. Our letting go of stuff, our surrendering, our giving up is required Sunday through Saturday; morning, noon, and night; sometimes even every hour or minute, especially for the worrywarts and control freaks (I speak for myself).

Remember, Jesus said He would teach us how to do this. He knows the majority of us aren’t spiritual rocket scientists, but human beings living in a fallen world. The great part of this Christly offering is that our reward is rest. Peace. A night of sleep without tossing and turning. A day without the falling of anxious tears. An afternoon without the restless double-time beating of an impatient heart.

We’ve all got better things to do than to worry, than to hold on to bothersome and weighty stuff, than to be chained by anxiety wondering how everything is going to turn out. Let go and let God? Sure...for some tonight. For others, eventually. In any case, better than never.