Tag: letting-go

The Mystery of Letting Go

Dear Ones,

I was only twenty-one when I painted this tree on a large used canvas. It recently came to my attention when Don wanted to put a print of it in the school auction. I let it go, but still have the original.

Newly married and still in college, I painted the gray autumn sky with discarded house-paint samples. A photograph of this tree had drawn me to paint it, and it still draws me because it captures something timeless—the mystery of letting go.

Ahhh, the blessed Giver of life! How incredibly blessed I am to have lived long enough to have seen and held my first great-grandchild, with another one on the way. I recently received a photo from my grandson of his beautiful wife at 16 weeks pregnant with their first baby, so that is still another one on the way. However, they all live far away in Alaska, so I must hold and love them from a distance for now.

And yet, at this very moment, one of my closest girlfriends is bowing before God as her family considers hospice care for her husband. Our circle of friends aches for her as she faces letting go of someone so precious and becoming a widow again.

Awake too early one morning, I wondered how much money I might need if I am left a widow again or need long-term care. Not to worry, but certainly wise to make a few common-sense plans. A reality I need to glance at occasionally—but I’d rather gaze at those glorious pictures of dancing on a flower-strewn hillside with my sweetheart! Somehow, someday I must let go of that fantasy.

In my gray-sky painting, small, wrinkled orange and gold leaves cling to bare branches as a cold autumn wind tugs around them. Blue-white frost gathers. Too soon, the tree will stand completely bare, having let go of every evidence of life.

My son and I recently had this conversation about life, faith, and what gets passed from one generation to another:

“My dear Jami, I’m going over my ladies’ Bible study and one question says, ‘Take a minute to thank God for an incredible person of faith in your life.’ I thought of YOU. Since Latourneau, when we anxiously communicated our concern about finances, you remained resolute in your faith that God would provide. Ever since then, I’ve witnessed your calm approach to challenges in a FAITH beyond my own. We recently watched the movie, “My Only Son,” the story of Abraham and his faith over so many years—truly inspiring!! I see that same faith in you and give God the glory!”

“Thanks mom, sometimes it seems that trusting in God’s plan was easier back then when life was pretty simple and I only had myself to worry about. Growing up we had amazing examples in you and Dad as you went through many difficult times. I’m sure behind the scenes it didn’t feel like strong faith, but that’s what I saw and what God used to pass it on to your children! Love you mom.”

“Oh, my dear Jami, your words are so redemptive to my soul and bring tears to my eyes. The Lord’s grace humbles me—undeserved favor. Our God is so good!!”

Jami’s words touched me deeply because they reminded me that our children are watching us, even when we don’t realize it. Each of my children has his or her own story of faith, struggle, growth, and God’s grace. I am so grateful for the many ways I have seen the Lord work in each of their lives.

Beneath the surface of a real tree, life remains and surges upward from roots hidden deep in the earth, covering the branches again with abundant green leaves. As seasons come and go, we so often have no idea what God is doing. What we experience as loss may actually be building strength in us—and in others through us.

Our children and others are watching our responses. We don’t always get it right, but must let go of our pride because God can even use our mistakes for our good and His glory. I cannot fathom that mystery!

This painting illustrates letting go of all we hold dear, even life itself. Times come when we must enter a season of rest and wait for another spring, when our Shepherd makes us lie down, even when we would rather scamper off into green pastures. We let go of our own will for His.

This tree does not illustrate despair, but hope for those who belong to Jesus Christ. Winter, or a hard season, is never the end of the story. Our hope rests in the One who is “the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation.” In Him “all things were created,” and mysteriously, “in Him all things hold together” (Colossians 1:15–17). I know when I let go, He truly holds me together so many times.

It is taking me a lifetime to release my grip on this world. The losses of the last five years—losing my husband, remarrying, leaving my home, children, grandchildren, and everything familiar to move from the Pacific Northwest to California—have taught me again and again to let go. And then aging brings a whole new kind of release.

And we do let go. We will. As my wise-beyond-her-years, young teen granddaughter, Danielle, told me, “Death is fearful because we have to let go of all control.”

Wow. Maybe that is what we so desperately cling to—control. Why don’t we start practicing now? While we still have the ability to choose, we can release our need for control to the One who holds all things anyway.

This weekend is my birthday, and as bad as I am at math, I can tell you that 78 is closer to 80 than to 75! I was looking forward to having my daughter and her two youngest daughters fly here to celebrate with me.

Then her text and phone call turned anticipation into disappointment: the girls are down with a virus, and one has an ear infection. So here I am, practicing again—releasing disappointment instead of allowing it to have power over me. I am sad, but learning to let go.

The more we fight to keep control, the more weary we become. Lauren Daigle sings, “I tried to win this war, I confess. My hands are weary, I need Your rest. Mighty Warrior, King of the fight, no matter where I go, You’re by my side.” Yes. My Shepherd is with me, and His Word and Holy Spirit comfort me in every loss.

God lets us practice by releasing smaller things first: maybe youthful hopes and dreams. Lauren also sings, “Letting go of every single dream. I lay each one down at Your feet….” Then releasing our children one by one, the nest empties, our careers end, our homes, our strength, and eventually perhaps our health, dignity, and independence.

I do know this: God does not promise us strength today for tomorrow. So does it help to live in denial and pretend these things won’t happen? No. But when they do, I know God’s Word and His Holy Spirit will be with me, even then, to comfort me.

What if I am not in the habit of going to Him now as my Refuge and Strength? What happens when my eyesight fails and I can no longer read His Word? Will the memory work I’ve done before that happens be enough to sustain me then?

God tells us to be anxious for nothing but to pray about everything—even this. Jesus does not want us to worry, but it is wise for the young and the old, and everyone in between to make common-sense plans so we don’t worry unnecessarily. We can make wise preparations for the days and seasons ahead, before we become more dependent on the grace, mercy, kindness, and care of others.

“Oh, the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments and His ways past finding out! For who has known the mind of the LORD? Or who has become His counselor?”
—Romans 11:33–34

And yet, “we have the mind of Christ” (1 Corinthians 2:16).

Perhaps the mystery is not that we can understand it all, but that through every season we learn to loosen our grip—and trust the One who never lets go.

Posted on by MarJean Knaak 3

When Good Fruit Must Fall

While I walked through the peach orchards a few weeks ago, I noticed hundreds, maybe thousands, of small green peaches lying on the ground. It seemed so wasteful until I understood the purpose. My farmer husband told me the growers thin the fruit so that what remains will grow larger.

It made me think about how God often needs to thin out our lives as well. Last year I wrote a blog to you about pruning branches, which can relate more to sin, and my blog from Hebrews 12 about laying aside every weight and the sin that so easily entangles us. This peach thinning insight goes beyond simply pruning sin. Many of us think of thinning as God removing bad things from our lives. But often He removes good things that compete with better things. The peach tree is not being punished. It is being prepared to produce quality fruit.

In 2005 we joined an Alaskan mission and wrote Courage letters to our support base. In one letter I penned a poem that is not about thinning peaches, but it is about being so busy that our fruitfulness never comes to maturity.

A Rhyming Reason to Refocus

Right in the middle of a very busy day,
I took a hurried moment to bow my head and pray.
I would have run off quickly
But something seemed to say, “Be still.

“Your intensely flustered flurry,
Your pressured heat and hurry,
Your anxious wiles and worry only serve
To disconnect you from the Vine!

“Do you think that you can make it?
That your intellect can shake it?
That your strength can really make it
Happen in your time?

“Can a branch produce a cluster
With a glowing healthy luster
Without the Vine to muster up
Its sweetest wine?

“For your fruit comes not by straining,
But by gentle, quiet waiting
On the One whose living water
Fills your soul.

“Child, be still and listen to Me
Whisper peace that will come through Me
As you give the time that’s due Me
From yourself.”

So I listened and I waited
On the One who so had stated
That His peace was under-rated
In my mind.

All the while my work was calling,
And I hesitated stalling,
For it seemed the sky was falling
And I’d never finish all I had to do.

Yet as I sat there stewing
About all that needed doing,
A gentle peace began its brewing
In my soul.

Slowly He began the changing
With a quiet rearranging
By exchanging my poor thinking
For His own.

All that mattered was His nearness,
Which I saw with renewed clearness,
And He changed me to be fearless
In His love.

There my busy day was brighter
And my to-do list seemed much lighter
As I found that as a writer
I’m renewed!

As I reread that poem twenty years later, standing among those peach trees, I realized the lesson had been there all along.

The peaches scattered across the orchard floor were not diseased fruit. They were not bad peaches. In fact, they were perfectly healthy young peaches. Yet if they all remained on the tree, none would reach their full potential. The tree’s energy would be divided among too many competing demands.

The grower understands what the tree itself cannot.

Sometimes less fruit now produces better fruit later.

Jesus spoke of a similar process in our lives:

“Every branch that does bear fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit” (John 15:2).

Notice that He is not pruning dead branches in this verse. He is pruning fruitful ones.

That truth can be unsettling.

We readily understand why God removes sinful habits, unhealthy relationships, or destructive patterns. But what about the good things? What about worthwhile projects, meaningful commitments, enjoyable activities, and even ministry opportunities?

Sometimes God lovingly removes things that are good because they are competing with what is best.

Hebrews 12:1 instructs believers to “lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily entangles us.” The writer makes a distinction between weights and sins. Some things are sinful and must be abandoned. Other things are simply weights. They may not be wrong, but they slow us down in our pursuit of Christ.

A peach tree does not need diseased fruit removed in order to be thinned. It simply has too much fruit.

How often is that true of us?

We crowd our calendars, fill our minds, multiply our commitments, and then wonder why our spiritual fruit seems small and immature. We strain harder, work longer, and push ourselves further, while the Master Gardener quietly invites us to release something.

Not because He wants less fruit.

Because He wants better fruit.

Love that runs deeper.

Joy that lasts longer.

Peace that remains steady.

Patience that endures hardship.

Faith that has been tested and proven genuine.

The thinning may feel like loss for a season. Opportunities pass. Plans change. Certain dreams are delayed or even surrendered. Yet the Gardener sees what we cannot. He knows which peaches must fall so that the remaining fruit can grow sweet and mature.

Perhaps that is why David wrote, “One thing have I desired of the Lord, that will I seek after…” (Psalm 27:4).

One thing.

Not twenty things.

Not a hundred worthy pursuits.

One thing.

We see the same principle in the story of Martha and Mary:

“Martha, Martha, you are worried and troubled about many things. But one thing is needed…” (Luke 10:41-42).

Martha wasn’t doing bad things. She was doing good things. Jesus simply pointed her toward the better thing.

The mature Christian life is often less about adding more and more and more, and more about allowing God to narrow our focus until Christ Himself becomes our chief desire.

The peaches on the orchard floor reminded me that God’s thinning is never punishment. It is preparation. The hand that removes is the same hand that nourishes. And the fruit He leaves behind will be all the sweeter because of what He chose to take away.

The next time I walk through the peach orchards, I doubt I’ll see waste lying on the ground. I’ll see the wisdom of the grower. What once appeared to be loss is actually an investment in sweetness yet to come.

And perhaps when God removes something from my own life—a dream, an opportunity, a responsibility, or simply a season that has ended—I will remember those little green peaches beneath the trees and trust the hand of the Master Gardener.

He is not reducing fruitfulness.

He is preparing it.

And perhaps that is why His invitation remains the same today as it was twenty years ago:

“Child, be still and listen to Me…”

For sometimes the sweetest fruit grows not from our striving, but from our abiding.

Posted on by MarJean Knaak 8