There is a story about surrender we read to our team in India this summer. The little girl in the story has a pearl necklace made of plastic that she greatly adores. It is her most prized possession and she keeps it close to her wherever she goes. One night her daddy comes into her room to tuck her in for the night and asks her for the necklace.
“No Daddy!” She cries in panic. “This is my favorite pearl necklace. I don’t want to give it to you.” Her daddy looks down at her with his gentle eyes full of love and says, “Okay princess, okay.” He kisses her on the cheek, tucks her in and leaves the room. The little girl lies in her bed, confused that her daddy would ask her for her precious necklace and relieved that she didn’t have to give it to him.
The very next night, he asks her again.
“Princess, may I have your pearl necklace?”
“Daddy, please no. You know this is my favorite necklace. I
love it! I don’t want you to take it from me.” Her daddy pauses a little longer this time, still with a loving look in his eyes. “Okay princess, okay.” He then kisses her on the cheek again, tucks her in, and leaves the room. The little girl lies there again in confusion. Her daddy loves her, yet he wants to take away the thing she loves the most. She doesn’t understand. She knows he loves her more than anything, yet what he is asking her to do hurts. Thoughts parade inside her head and she falls into a restless sleep.
The next night, her daddy comes in to tuck her in once again.
“Daddy!” she begins to sob. She tries to say something more, but another sob escapes instead. She slowly reveals a tightly clenched fist, the pearl necklace peeking through the fingers of her tight grasp. Her daddy reaches his own open hand out to hers. “Princess, I love you,” he whispers.
With that, the little girl places her favorite pearl necklace in his hands then buries herself into her pillow. Her daddy places his hand on her back and feels her shake as she cries. Then he slowly gets up, the pearl necklace tucked gently in his hands, and walks out of her room.
The little girl wakes up the following morning to a bright sun streaming through her windows. It takes a few moments for the contents of the previous night to spill into her consciousness, but soon they do. She remembers that her favorite pearl necklace is gone. Just as she begins to despair, something on her nightstand catches her eye. She pushes the sheets off of her and leans closer. On her nightstand sits a beautiful, round pearl. A handwritten note beside it reads, “Princess, I love you. I couldn’t stand to see you carrying around a plastic pearl necklace when I could give you the real thing. There are many more pearls to come. Love, Daddy.”
Ironically, the girl’s name in the story is Jenny and it couldn’t be more fitting. My own Abba has asked me to surrender the plastic jewels I hold precious and dear to me too. And like the little girl in the story, I’ve given them to him, (only my nights of saying “no” number far more than 2). Now I lie in my bed, the night still dark around me, waiting for morning to come and the sun to reveal what’s true.
It has been a process of brokenness, especially this past week. First giving up the pearl necklace – a dream I’ve held since childhood, which I thought I already surrendered, but Abba said there was more. Second, being stripped of all that is comfortable. This part of the race, we’ve split the media team again and we’re traveling with team A. Excited to dive into the lives of so many new people, I find myself a bit scared to. We’ve spent the past 2 1/2 months with the others and I
know them. I have stories with them and have grown to love them. Now, it’s a whole new ballgame. A “third” inning stretch if you will and God has been leaving me little notes to say He is here. He was here yesterday in a bathtub, which for me symbolizes rest. Then I saw my name tagged on a concrete wall just outside the house we’re staying in. But the real kicker was last night at church. We were three songs into worship when the band started playing one of my favorite songs, “From the Inside Out” by Hillsong. They sang it in Spanish.
It’s like Abba’s been saying,
“Jenny, I am here. I am leading you down a path you have never been down before, but I am here and I won’t leave you. Everything is okay princess, I am here.”
And I’m left suspended in mid-air in the greatest opportunity to trust yet.
