Surrender of Self
In Luke's gospel account, Christ looks to his followers and instructs them to take up their cross and follow him. One of the underlying themes that goes relatively unnoticed with Jesus and his followers is that they become a family. Jesus said to the one who asked to bury his father, "Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and spread the news of the kingdom of God," (Luke 9:60). Like a sheep being brought to a new pasture, his followers left their families to join a new one.
The twelve apostles and the many unnamed followers spend all of their time with Jesus and develop a love and connection with Jesus that can only be characterized as a family. Yes, Judas betrayed Christ, but if you remember, Iscariot returns to the Pharisees with tears in his eyes, silver pieces in hand, pleading to redo the deal. The depth of sorrow that came over him after selling his LORD for the price of a bondservant shook him to the core, so much so, that he could not continue on in life (Matt. 27:5).
But, to get back on track with the subject at hand, what does family teach about surrender? Every time I tell people I have four siblings, they either look at me with wide eyes in disbelief or laugh and say, "I don't know how you do it." To be honest, I sometimes don't know how I've made it this far, but I wouldn't want it any other way. Because, my family has made me put others over myself. My family has made it clear that this world is bigger than the West Little Rock bubble. It's bigger than United States of America. But most importantly, it's bigger than me.
In the age of diapers, everything was going my way. I had the eyes of every old lady in church saying I was the cutest baby in town, smiling faces every time I entered the room, and the complete and utter attention of both of my parents. Everything was going smoothly, but soon after, my brother Isaac was born. After he rolled out of the hospital, the ooh's and ahh's shifted from Sanders Baby: Vol. 2 to Vol. 3. My inward jealousy boiled over. I wanted the love and affection, yet as the years went on, the birth of Isaac, and later Elijah and Levi, showed me that there was enough love to go around. The problem in my mind was that the spotlight was being taken from me, but in actuality, the stage was being shared, and I had to be okay with it.
After Elijah and Levi got out of diapers and into preschool, the tasks of cleaning their messes were spread around the siblings. My mom could only do so much, and the rest of us had to pick up the slack. The tests of humility came in the form of doing the dishes, hanging up clothes, and picking up messes that came from other people. You’re probably thinking to yourself, Noah, that’s not hard. It couldn’t possibly take more than ten minutes.
If those were your thoughts, you’re absolutely right, but in the mind of a growing teenager, the self-absorbed mentality would quickly disintegrate at the hand of every dish, shirt, or Sonic cup put away. My life should not, would not, or could not be tailored to my ever-loving need. It had to be wired to help and serve others. It doesn’t seem like a terribly awful, gut-retching reality, but it takes a day-by-day, moment-by-moment surrender of oneself in order that my family would benefit.
With all those things in mind, how could I not think of the life work and ministry of Christ? The fact that he left glory to join broken sinners who live for themselves, abide in their own work, and sometimes forget to take out the trash, seems baffling to most, if not all. If the Son of God was living in communion with the Father, united by the Spirit, what could possibly be better than that? If you don’t know the gospel message, what is better is bringing more sheep into the fold, from darkness to light.
None of that could have been possible if Christ didn’t surrender himself, like Philippians 2 says, to the point of death. He had to die so we might live. And, crazy enough, that is the model for the Christian life. No, everyone doesn’t have to die. But we all have to surrender. In a social climate that constantly pours out the message of self-gratification and self-glory, there doesn’t seem to be any room for surrender, right? That’s why the church is a counter-cultural community. As we follow Christ in the path toward holiness, it brings the people of God closer together. We surrender together.
We are, more than anything, a family. Families fight, disagree, and might have their moments of trouble, but with Christ at the center, families grow, love, and surrender to one another in hopes to build, not tear down. In the High Priestly Prayer in John 17, Jesus prays that the people of God unite as one as he and the Father are one. That means the church of God that differs on every possible issue must look to unite, because the church’s biggest enemy is not the secular culture. Its biggest enemy is itself. Like I said before, Christ died so that we could live in harmony and communion with God and each other, not argue on Twitter over politics, music, or the color of the carpet in the sanctuary.
So, the next time a decision to fight for yourself or someone else comes up, look to the cross and the family of believers God has given to you, and surrender.
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