How does one know when he/she has completely surrendered to God? Surrendered his/her whole life, self, concerns, etc. How does it happen? Gradually? Suddenly? Is surrendering something we DO, say, believe, feel, or what?

Thanks.
Katy

Katy, I think it is an expression of willingness, formulated in many prayers through the ages. All you have to do is be as sincere as you can in expressing the prayer.

Then . . . (you knew there was a "catch," didn't you ), you must ACT as though you meant what you said. E.g., if you've been caught up in a sinful involvement, you must take steps to break from it.

Moving one's life into God's providential care is a process involving many surrenders.

Good topic. Let's see how it goes.

Katy, hopefully you won�t be offended by someone who is, at best, an agnostic trying to answer your question.

It seems a human being is a mosaic of different pieces. Many of the pieces are missing or misshapen in such a way that they don�t fit or work properly. We recognize on the one hand that as finite, limited beings we�re not God and are going to have imperfect or missing pieces. That�s our nature. As much as we might want certain things to be a certain way, some things are just never going to work out exactly or even closely like we want. The best we can hope for is to accept our shortcomings, hope that someone else will fix them, or learn to make due with what we have, or some combination of the above.

So I would assume that one might measure one�s surrender to God on the basis of something looking different, feeling different, or just all-around being different. One would hopefully see some type of improvement. When things aren�t much different or progressing as fast as we would like (we might even be backsliding) we are understandably inclined to go back to the drawing board and ask, "What can I do better? Do I have to do more of what I�m doing, or just do it differently?"

My working analogy of life is that it�s an inherent partnership between our own abilities (or free will) and the overwhelming amount of circumstances and external elements (including God) which direct, influence, or just downright make possible the conditions for our lives. There is the "us" and the "them" (or everything that isn�t us but without which our existence would be impossible). In short, it takes two to tango. I would therefore be conscious of making sure that implicit in an attitude of total surrender to God that we weren�t rejecting ourselves. We are separate individuals for a reason. Although we might not know how to manage our lives, we do know that the point in "surrendering" to another is to gain the strength and knowledge we need to make our God-given lives useful, not simply to escape our lives by becoming "one with God" or abdicating responsibilities that really should be ours.

I guess my advice is that we always need to keep a close eye on our expectations. It might be the difference between surrendering more or implementing the right kind of surrender. It could be something else entirely because, in the words of Jonathan Edwards: "He can�t even run his own mind, I�ll be damned if he runs mine."

Surrender what is complete surrender what does it look like am I doing it right and if so why do I keep falling. I ask this question all the time. The only answer that keeps coming back is that there is no perfect way to surrender or define it. To me it is the person laying in thier filth or darkness crying out God I cannot do this and doing it continually whether there is change or not. My sponsor keeps telling me that as people we are unable to surrender completely because we do not know what it looks like. I know that I dont but God will accept me where I am at and full me with Grace as I scream mercy God mercy!!

Thanks for your replies. I guess that I am thinking about surrender in this Way: "Lord, I give up. I don't know anything for SURE. Show me the way. Teach me alone what is right for me. Take over me".." Got the idea? Kind of like dying to self? That is what I am asking about. How does one know when he/she has died to "self"?

Katy

I'll come back and elaborate, but one distinction I find important here is between surrender of the will to God and abdication of the will through shame.

I'll come back and elaborate, but one distinction I find important here is between surrender of the will to God and abdication of the will through shame.

Thanks, WC. I think that's what I was trying to get to, in so many words.

Got the idea? Kind of like dying to self?

Katy, it sounds like your head is squarely positioned on your shoulders. I do indeed know something about the concept of dying in order to get to the real schtuff of ourselves and, unfortunately, I'm still holding on for dear life! (Phil, I think, refers to our false selves in his doctoral thesis, a paper no less scholarly, and no easier to read through then Edmund Burke, so I'm going to be some time with that one.) It's an incredible concept that we can get to and release our real, powerful, true selves by basically placing our trust in something external (subordinating ourselves to another). Theoretically this should lead only to entrapment, pathology or cultism but that, I think, it overwhelmingly leads to freedom and authenticity is a nice little bit of proof for God, although in my opinion this needn't be a uniquely theological quest since a more generic "higher power" can be used in a pinch as a "substitute" for the God of Christianity as the subject for surrender. And perhaps surely the trick is, if there is a trick at all, is to surrender all the right parts and to not hold back the things that need most to surrender. I think we can easily fool ourselves into thinking we're surrendering when we might just be aiding and abetting our egos and feeling like quite pious fellows for our good works or intentions when the real beast within still needs exposing.

I think we can speak of levels of surrender, the most basic being to the innate dynamism in our own mind/spirits pointing in the direction of truth, honesty, benevolence, transcendence -- authenticity! Here we will run up agains the false self just as surely as will a mystic, who is trying to surrender to something understood to be "God's will."

Theistic spirituality does not invalidate this psycho-philosophical fidelity to self, but extends it by identifying "God" as the One in whom the fullness of truth, beauty, love, etc. can be realized. It follows that authenticity is preserved in theistic spirituality, else "God's will" would be naught but a projection of a false-self-understanding of ultimates.

Probably for most of us, the hardest surrender is the first level, which is to our own inner authenticity. When we have been wounded by shame, fear and resentment, we do not even have a clue sometimes what authenticity would mean, so deeply does the false self influence our thinking and desiring. Therefore, some kind of "external standard" like the Ten Commandments or another set of rules indicating what an authentic theistic life would be are quite helpful, and holding oneself accountable to them can be a good thing.

Good topic!

Brad and Phil's remarks allude, for me, to the importance of some really honest inner work, where the distortions of the psyche, or the False Self, can be treated with understanding and compassion. But when the shame is severe and longstanding, it seems we have to come in contact with people where real trust can be gradually developed, and then a taste of real love given and received is possible, leading to the authenticity Phil speaks of, at least for moments.

I remember my first conscious encounter with the False Self Phil describes so well in his dissertation. I must have been about 23 or 24 years old, and in the throes of a relationship with a woman even more narcissistic than myself. There came a moment when my own dishonesty was so readily apparent to both of us that I had no where to turn but right into it. She, as expected, took the chance to belittle me, and my responses in the past where the blame game, denial, etc . . . But this moment was a very raw, painful, but somehow fresh opening where I actually came clean, but without treating myself like crap. It was quite a relief, and actually the beginning of being able to let others love me. I felt real sitting there on the couch with her yelling at me. And when I looked up at her and said, "You know, you're right. I am like that," it was like confession and absolution all at once. Needless to say, she didn't know where to categorize this response, and I think began other angles of harrassment, alternated with blaming me for not understanding her own concerns. It was the beginning of the end of that relationship, and the beginning of therapy shortly after.

What's real is loveable. This was a truly surprising discovery of the authenticity Phil describes. Over a life time of paralysing shame, nothing could seem more impossible than the truth of just that.

Without a visceral, inner sense of our own goodness, I don't see how surrender in the authentic, non-shaming way can be engendered by the will that desperately longs to tap that well-spring of the soul. It's always closer, and simpler, than we seem to think.

Phil said: Probably for most of us, the hardest surrender is the first level, which is to our own inner authenticity. When we have been wounded by shame, fear and resentment, we do not even have a clue sometimes what authenticity would mean, so deeply does the false self influence our thinking and desiring.

And think that's very much true. And I think part of any true surrender is to surrender to the fact that, for better and for worse, we are marked for life with our experiences. Our wounds and harder edges might be slowly transformed, but I just don't think there's any escaping some of the darker facts of our selves. We can't deny them. We can't hate these parts of ourselves. We can't resent ourselves. As Lincoln said, "A house divided against itself cannot stand." That's not to say we should indulge our wounds so that we pour forth more wounding, bitterness and anger. And it's not to say we should bottle it up. Clearly, at least in my mind, surrender is about finding a third option or a transcendent path that isn't caught in this either/or scenario.

Therefore, some kind of "external standard" like the Ten Commandments or another set of rules indicating what an authentic theistic life would be are quite helpful, and holding oneself accountable to them can be a good thing.

I think the trick is to spend at least 10 minutes each week (more is better) with someone who is deep-down decent. This contact can be flesh-and-blood personal or can come in the form of exposure to just the thoughts or other expressions of that decency such as through literature, TV, magazines, music, poetry, art, whatever. It's very difficult to imagine a deeper goodness, particularly if we've been deeply wounded, unless one is exposed to it. We need a template. A role model.

But when the shame is severe and longstanding, it seems we have to come in contact with people where real trust can be gradually developed, and then a taste of real love given and received is possible, leading to the authenticity Phil speaks of, at least for moments.

Yes. I agree. I don't remember if I read what you wrote before I wrote what I wrote but I still agree!

I felt real sitting there on the couch with her yelling at me.

WC, when you talk about the stories of your life like that I have these wonderful film noire moments. (I consider that a good thing, by the way.)

What's real is loveable.

That's so simple and yet so true--the basis for opening oneself to grace, really! It's the one thing the false self system cannot accept.

Good sharing!