The Surrendered Yes and the Sacred No
- jbhoward429
- 11 hours ago
- 5 min read

A Yes to Surrender
I’ll never forget the night I left my daughter in a boarded-up house.
She was frail, dirty, barely conscious—fresh out of the ER from collapsing in a convenience store. The diagnosis? Malnutrition. My baby girl was starving while I was at home cooking steak for the rest of the family.
And now… I was dropping her off at a dark, abandoned home with no heat, no food, and nothing but a boyfriend and addiction waiting inside.
Every part of me wanted to drag her back, force her into safety, fix what was broken.
But I couldn’t. Not this time.
That night, I sat in the car—shaking, panicked, paralyzed by heartbreak—and gave God my first true yes.
Not the kind of yes that comes with control or conditions…But the kind that sounds a lot like surrender.
I said yes to trusting Him when I couldn’t trust the outcome.
Yes to letting go without giving up.
Yes to believing that He saw her.
That He saw me.
That He hadn’t walked away.
He didn’t fix everything that night. But He did hold me.
And sometimes, that’s the miracle.
"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight." — Proverbs 3:5–6
A No That Heals
Saying "no" became sacred the day I realized boundaries weren’t rejection… they were rescue. Not for her—but for me.
That night, God showed me something I didn’t want to admit: she was making choices I couldn’t undo. The most loving thing I could do was let her face the consequences.
It wasn’t long before the phone rang again—this time, with news of her arrest. And then another.
But I had already said yes to Jesus in that car. And that yes meant saying no to bailing her out.
No to every middle-of-the-night rescue.
No to shielding her from rock bottom.
No to believing her addiction was a reflection of my worth as a mother.
Each "no" hurt.
But each "no" became an altar—where I laid down control and picked up trust.
I had to believe God was using the consequences to bring her clarity. To bring her back.
My job was to love her as much like Jesus as I could… and then step aside and let Him do what only He can do.
"Discipline your children, and they will give you peace; they will bring you the delights you desire." — Proverbs 29:17
Jesus Said No, Too
Jesus said no to the crowds so He could pray.
"Yet the news about him spread all the more, so that crowds of people came to hear him and to be healed of their sicknesses. But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and prayed." — Luke 5:15–16
He said no to Peter’s sword so He could go to the cross just after asking God to take this away from him.
"Put your sword back in its place," Jesus said to him, "for all who draw the sword will die by the sword. Do you think I cannot call on my Father, and he will at once put at my disposal more than twelve legions of angels? But how then would the Scriptures be fulfilled that say it must happen in this way?" — Matthew 26:52–54
He said no to shortcuts and easy outs because He was surrendered to the will of the Father.
"Jesus said to him, 'Away from me, Satan! For it is written: Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.'" — Matthew 4:10
If the Savior of the world could say no as an act of obedience, so can we.
When Letting Go Feels Like Failing
Sometimes the hardest part of surrender is what it looks like from the outside. To others (including your child), it might seem like you’ve given up. Like you’ve stopped caring. Like you’ve abandoned your child.
But that’s not the truth.
Letting go isn’t giving up. It’s placing them in God’s hands instead of your own. It’s trusting that His love runs deeper, stronger, and longer than yours ever could.
It takes far more love and courage to surrender than to stay in the cycle of control. It takes more faith to walk away praying than to hold on pretending to be on top of it.
And sister, if you’ve let go out of obedience—you haven’t failed no matter what anyone else thinks or says. You’ve simply chosen a different kind of fight. A holy one. A God-ordained battle that He has called you to.
"The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still." — Exodus 14:14
Sacred Invitations: What God Builds in the Waiting
When you say “no” to chaos and “yes” to Christ, God doesn’t just take something away—He begins building something within you.
He builds patience in your pause.
He builds endurance in your aching.
He builds wisdom in your watching.
He will draw closer to you than you ever imagined possible.
In the waiting, He deepens your prayer life. He refines your identity. He tenderly pries your fingers off the illusion of control—and fills your empty hands with peace and a supernatural faith in His power and the goodness of His will for your life and theirs.
Don’t underestimate what God is doing in you while you’re hoping for transformation in them.
"Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope." — Romans 5:3–4
Hope Holder, This Is for You
You who say yes to prayer, even when it feels like it’s bouncing off the ceiling.
You who say no to dysfunction—even when it costs you their approval.
You are not hard-hearted.
You are holy-ground walking.
You are surrendering and sanctifying every breath.
Your “yes” is your worship.
Your “no” is your wisdom.
And God sees both.
You are not less because you’re grieving.
You are not weak because you’re weary.
You are not alone because your child is lost.
You are chosen for this sacred, unseen fight.
You are called to be a light in someone else’s darkness.
You are loved deeply by a God who never grows tired of holding you up.
This road is hard—but you are not hopeless.
You are a Hope Holder.
A mother in the trenches.
A warrior in the waiting.
A living testimony that God still moves in the middle of the mess.
Let’s Reflect Together:
What is one “yes” you’ve whispered to God lately?
What is one “no” He’s asking you to trust Him with?
💬 Comment your answers below and share this with a fellow Hope Holder who needs the reminder.
You’re not alone. You’re one of us now.
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