The Surprise of Surrender

In recent weeks, I’ve felt a nudge to surrender some things I’ve been holding onto tightly. These are good things - things I deeply desire and have been intentionally working towards for some time. But, right now, my usual inclination to push forward, to take one more step toward completion, has been replaced by a quieter invitation to set them down instead.

Truth be told, I’ve been wrestling with this. So many questions - How do I surrender? Why would I? Isn’t surrendering the same as giving up? 

In war, the act of surrender signals retreat or an admission of defeat. It is used as a last resort when all other options have been exhausted and found to be lacking. But that’s not what this feels like. 

I’m excited. I’m eager to press onwards. Yet, alongside that drive, there’s a steady, quiet urge to pause and to release. Something subtle and hard to name. Not an obvious obstacle, but not a clear path forward either.

So I’ve been trying this new posture of surrender on for size. I admit it feels ill-fitting and a little uncomfortable, but also like a deep breath, spaciousness and an unburdening. And, like anything else new, I’m making mistakes and I’m learning one step at a time. Many days, I set things down with one hand only to find myself picking them back up with the other. And then I remember, the freedom that surrender gifts me, exhale and set them down again.

Sometimes,

waiting and surrendering

are acts of trust,

not resistance.

I once heard someone observe that the sign for surrender - arms raised above one’s head, hands up - looks remarkably similar to the sign of victory. One look at a Formula One driver on the podium, or an elated rugby player after a win, shows the same gesture: arms lifted high, a posture that could be mistaken for surrender.

As I’ve leaned into the gifts of surrender - a calmer mind, gentler daily rhythms, and an unexpected but welcome sense of ease - a new set of questions has emerged. Could surrender be more than hitting the brakes, or a signal of failure, and instead be hope-filled and future-focused? Might stopping and setting things down actually support us to begin again, with slightly lighter loads and more energy for the road ahead? And is the space between surrender and victory perhaps much closer than I first thought?

The message of taking your time, setting things down, and waiting often feels at odds with the pace and demands of the world around us. But I’ve discovered that surrender isn’t opposed to completion or progress. Surrender is still a step forward, perhaps not in the way we hoped or imagined, but an action nonetheless, purposeful and forward-moving in its own gentle way.

I don’t know if, when or how I will pick these things up that I’ve recently surrendered, but I do know that in pausing, I’ve embraced a quiet kind of acceptance. This reflects a willingness to move forward with care rather than urgency, and a recognition that sometimes, waiting and surrendering are acts of trust, not resistance.

If you’re feeling called to set something down, that is okay. It’s part of honouring your desires, your capacity, and your own inner wisdom. Surrender creates the space to discern our next steps and invites us to embrace the exhale and release along the way. 

Your next best step, even as you long to move forward, might be to simply listen, to pause, and to surrender.