A group of women recently gathered in my living room for a Bible study on the Lord’s Prayer. As we delved into the phrase “Your will be done” from Matthew 6:10, the words seemed to stick in our throats, difficult to swallow, like a dose of cough syrup that stubbornly refuses to go down. Each of us carried our own set of fears and anxieties, and the idea of surrendering our future to God’s will brought forth a chorus of concerns.
One woman confessed, “I feel like if I pray those words, I’m inviting the very thing I’m terrified of. I know it’s not rational, but it feels like that.” Another echoed her sentiment: “God’s will scares me. I want my will because it feels safer.” These responses revealed a common thread among us—a fear of losing control over our lives.
The Weight of Worry
In our circle sat a mother anxious about her newborn’s poor hearing tests, another mother grappling with her young son’s self-harm, a woman who had recently lost her job, a mother waiting to bring home her adopted son from China, a wife whose husband didn’t believe in God, and myself, struggling with the fact that my terminally ill father had repeatedly rejected the gospel. The room was filled with women holding tightly to the future, desperate for reassurance and control.
We were all acutely aware of the uncertainties that lay ahead, and the idea of relinquishing our grip to allow God’s will to unfold was daunting. The notion that God’s will might lead us down paths of suffering or hardship seemed too much to bear. Instead, we found ourselves clinging to the illusion of control, praying fervently that God would align His will with ours.
The Illusion of Control
Why is it that we struggle to trust God’s will, even when we intellectually know that He is good and trustworthy? Why do we find it so difficult to apply the truth of the cross—that God, who did not spare His own Son, will surely provide what is best for us (Romans 8:32)—to our own lives?
Perhaps it’s because we have grown accustomed to controlling so many aspects of our daily existence. We set the temperature in our homes, choose the schools our children attend, decide what food to buy, and plan our days with precision. We become comfortable in the routine, enjoying the predictable outcomes of our efforts. It’s easy to forget that our plans are ultimately subject to the will of God.
Yet, life has a way of reminding us that we are not as in control as we think. When a child falls ill, when a job is lost, when a loved one faces a terminal diagnosis, our carefully constructed sense of control crumbles. We are confronted with the reality that we do not know what tomorrow will bring (James 4:14). In these moments, the words of James ring true: “You ought to say, ‘If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that’” (James 4:15). Once again, God calls us to surrender our will to His.
Trusting in God’s Goodness
When we finally come to a place where we can say, “Lord, not my will but Yours be done,” something transformative happens. Our grip on the future begins to loosen, and the frantic beat of our hearts slows to a calm rhythm. We are reminded that the God who asks us to trust Him is the same God who sent His Son to die for us. His will, though sometimes difficult to understand, is always for our good.
Jesus, who willingly submitted to the Father’s will and died in our place, is now seated at the right hand of God, holding all things together (Colossians 1:17). When my friend worries about her baby’s hearing, we can sit together and reflect on the mercy God has shown at the cross. When another friend is overwhelmed by her son’s self-harm, we can remember that Jesus rose from the dead, conquering sin and death. When I panic because my father has yet to embrace the gospel, I can remind myself that God has proven His faithfulness time and time again. After we remember these truths, we can sincerely pray for God’s will to be done, trusting that His will is very, very good. The hands that hold our future are the same hands that were pierced for us.
Finding Joy in Trials
God calls us to go even further in our trust. We are encouraged to count our trials as joy (James 1:2–4) because we know that God’s character is unchanging. Jesus assures us, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9). When we are weak, we can find strength in “Christ in [us], the hope of glory” (Colossians 1:27). In this way, suffering becomes a tool in God’s hand, shaping us into His image.
Deep down, we know this to be true. We understand that surrendering to God’s will, especially in times of suffering, leads to sanctification. We admire the faith of women like Joni Eareckson Tada, Elisabeth Elliot, and Corrie ten Boom, who each faced immense suffering yet chose to say, “Your will be done.” These heroines of the faith experienced deep intimacy with their Savior, a closeness that was forged in the fires of trial.
The Peace of Surrender
If we can remember the cross and uncurl our fingers from the future, we will experience a peace that surpasses understanding. This peace comes to those who have learned to trust in God’s will, even when it leads through the valley of suffering. We will rejoice in the will of our good Father, who orchestrates all things for the good of those who love Him. And with hearts full of faith, we will be able to pray with eagerness and expectation, “Your will be done.”
The next time you find yourself gripping the future tightly, remember that you can trust the One who holds it. He is not only sovereign over all things, but He is also good, and His will is perfect. In surrendering to His will, you will find a freedom and peace that the world cannot offer. So, loosen your grip on the future and place it in the hands of the One who was pierced for you. In doing so, you will discover the joy of living in the center of God’s good and perfect will.
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