Ellin George Thomas

“Let Go and Let God.”

It is a convincingly beautiful statement, and with just a minor alphabet addition, it becomes a strong imperative and a great invitation.

It is a statement which often feels easy to read and easy to follow—not unlike the release of a big sigh. But what if the thing we must let go of is the very part that has become our identity? Maybe, just maybe, it is more than the realization that we have wasted what could have instead been utilized.

Or perhaps it is something more in disguise: the depth of ocean water; the voices in our heads; the cries of our own brokenness becoming as a ringing bell at our ears. At that moment, we look at our hands drenched in our own blood—the blood of the sacrificed dream and wasted potential—having bruised, if not killed, our future selves with our own bare hands.

Maybe this isn’t just realization; maybe it’s regret in disguise, and Grief is her true name.

So, does it change anything? Maybe, or maybe not. But if we don’t realize it, perhaps we are blind to our sin. And even if we do realize it, yet fail to forgive ourselves, we have merely become our own little Gods—Gods of no power and no use.

In all and at all best possible ways, these are beautiful lines of surrender and assurance. They provide the confidence of something hopelessly hopeful—like winning at the end, even after having faced all odds.