Quotes About Surrender

As Francis Thompson wrote in his classic poem "The Hound of Heaven," "Is my gloom, after all, shade of His hand outstretched caressingly?

Your problem, however big it is (or however small), is His wise and loving will to you, even though it may not look wise or loving. It is His deliberate permissive will. And your response to it is your response to Him.

other little wooden fences can come down too. How? When? God only knows.

Love is supposed to bring us out of the dark prison of the "my will be done" ego into the joys of "thy will be done", both horizontally and vertically, toward both the human and the divine Other.

This is a fine chance to let go, to "win my life by losing it," which means not recklessness but acceptance, not passivity but nonattachment.

But the moment we experience the ground beneath our feet dissolving and feel the loss of all certainties is the moment we touch upon the experience of the Cross.

Leadership is not about forcing your will on others. It's about mastering the art of letting go.

After years of experimenting, I discovered that the more I tried to exert power directly, the less powerful I became.

The soul of success is surrendering to what is.

If God gives you a dream, and the dream comes to life and God shows up in it, and then the dream dies, it may be that God wants to see what is more important to you–the dream or him.

I believed I could change the world, and the weight of that belief almost crushed me. But guess what - apart from God, I can do nothing. I can't get anywhere... My ability to accomplish anything good is dependent on my willingness to dwell in the current of God's will.

There is certainly no hope left of getting away. And it isn't even terrible; it's possibly funny, if even that. It's embarrassing. That's all. A little embarrassing to realize that I no longer control my life, that the major decisions have already been made, long before I was conscious that any change was occurring.

That's what it means to die, to not be able to stop looking at whatever's in front of you. Some darn thing placed directly there, with nothing you can do about it such as selecting anything or changing anything. You can only accept what's put there as it is.

I can't dial a setting that stimulates my cerebral cortex into wanting to dial! If I don't want to dial, I don't want to dial that most of all, because then I will want to dial, and wanting to dial is right now the most alien drive I can imagine; I just want to sit here on the bed and stare at the floor.

Death at each moment, one avenue which is open to us at any point. And eventually we choose it, in spite of ourselves. Or we give up and take it deliberately.

O universo te dá corda, deixa você se debater à vontade, e depois puxa para você se enforcar.

Death is going to die.

Write some letters." "Don't want to." "Bake a cake to give that boy a slice of." "He might come while I'm still making it, and then we'd have to make conversation for an hour and a half till it was ready. Anyway, we've got some biscuits." "Well, I give up," he said.

But now this child has come offering us a way out and I'm going to follow her. Even if it means oblivion, friends, I'll welcome it, because it won't be nothing, we'll be alive again in a thousand blades of grass, and a million leaves, we'll be falling in the raindrops and blowing in the fresh breeze, we'll be glittering in the dew under the stars and the moon out there in the physical world which is our true home and always was.

Your death taps you on the shoulder, or takes your hand, and says, come along o' me, it's time. It might happen when you're sick with a fever, or when you choke on a piece of dry bread, or when you fall off a high building; in the middle of your pain and travail, your death comes to you kindly and says easy now, easy, child, you come along o' me, and you go with them in a boat out across the lake into the mist. What happens there, no one knows. No one's ever come back.

Everything I've ever let go of has claw marks on it

If we're the only animals who know in advance we're going to die, we're also probably the only animals who would submit so cheerfully to the sustained denial of this undeniable and very important truth.

We must learn to die daily to the known and limited, accepting our outer lives are but an offering to the inner spirit. Then everyday will be a new birth into eternity.

Self-acceptance always precedes genuine self-surrender and self-transformation.