The Power of Surrender in Inner Healing

by Debbi Mygat
Spring 2014

There is power and life and freedom in the act of surrendering to God! This is a concept I am passionate about, having learned it for myself the hard way. I don't hesitate to share this with students in our Prayer and Healing classes, where I sometimes get a few wrinkled brows and questioning looks. Some will say they agree with the concept, but cannot bring themselves to give up control of their lives. I understand what they mean. It may seem counterintuitive to think that power and freedom come from surrender, but I have found it to be true, whether I am preparing a sermon, praying for the sick, or finding my way through a difficult situation. When there is less of me and my ideas, there is more room for God.

I first learned this concept when I was in my mid–twenties. I was a happily married young mother with a life that probably looked pretty good to friends and neighbors. My husband and I were living in a beautiful Victorian house that had been considered a 'tear down' to some, but a challenge to us. We saw the beauty and potential in the old abandoned home, despite the debris everywhere, and the bittersweet vines growing through the cracked windows, and we decided it was worth saving from the wrecking ball. Fortunately, my husband was beginning a career as a builder, and this project was something he believed in. He was able to look past the sorry state of the empty, broken down house, and could envision it as restored and beautiful. I caught that enthusiasm and vision of my future home and trusted his ability to resurrect this building and turn it into a beautiful place. And he did! The structure and foundation were rebuilt in some places and strengthened in others. Floors were sanded and stained to bring back the beautiful wood grain. Doors were restored, windows replaced, and the beautiful 'gingerbread' details were repaired and painted to help them stand out. It was a labor of love that delighted our new neighbors and was a blessing for our family.

Having a good marriage, a beautiful home and a new baby daughter would naturally seem to be a recipe for joy and contentment. In fact, family and friends often commented on how fortunate I was, how happy I must be. And I would agree and smile. I knew they should be right, and I really wished they were. But the truth was, I had a terrible secret, and I was using a lot of emotional energy to try and keep it. I was suffering in silence from a great loss that invaded my thoughts during the day, and my dreams most nights. I fought to deal with it privately and to cope as well as humanly possible. But that was not enough, and it was becoming more difficult to handle with each passing month. Inside of myself, I felt the way my Victorian house used to look...broken up, empty and abandoned. I was in need of inner healing, but did not even know there was such a thing at that time of my life.

"The event" had happened years earlier when I was a senior in college. My high school boyfriend Chris and I were happily attending the same university in upstate New York, having the usual fun and challenges of college couples, while talking about a future together. We were planning to marry one day, and to pursue our careers in music education and film. I looked forward to that future. But in the fall of our senior year, tragedy came into my life. Returning from a trip to the bookstore, I found friends waiting for me outside my room. I looked at their faces and instantly felt a sense of dread. "Debbi, Chris is dead. He died while jogging around the track at the stadium. We're so sorry." I slumped back against the wall and cried out, then slid down to the floor and curled up in a ball. And although I eventually got up — physically — I know I stayed emotionally curled up on the floor for years to come.

A pulmonary embolism turned out to be the cause of death, and although it made no sense, I blamed myself. I thought, "If only I hadn't gone shopping for that book," (a gift for him) "I would have been in my room when he came to visit. But I wasn't there, so instead he went for a run. If only I had been there, maybe this wouldn't have happened! Or if it had, maybe I could have gotten him help. Then maybe he wouldn't have died." I felt so guilty. Then the painful, illogical thoughts started. "Maybe he has just left me, and the story of his death is a lie." I suppressed the thoughts, got through the two funerals services — one at school and one in our hometown — and essentially went on auto–pilot in order to complete my senior year and cope with daily life. Now I know the importance of healthy mourning, but then, all I did was avoid dealing with this loss in an appropriate way. It seemed too big to deal with, too horrible, too sad to address. Instead of helping, this avoidance prolonged my suffering.

Years later, I found myself a mother and wife, in a beautiful home, and I was still suppressing the pain, and it still was not working well. For at night, everything I fought to keep down would surface in my sleep. Dreams of being abandoned took over, as did dreams of seeing Chris just up ahead, rounding a corner only to disappear. I felt rejected, abandoned and deeply sad. And those feelings only made me feel guilty, since I had such a wonderful life and family.

I was raised a Christian, and really was praying all through this terrible time. In fact, I had all kinds of ideas for God on how to fix this painful situation and didn't hesitate to share them with Him! I was quietly angry that God hadn't prevented this great loss, and didn't seem to be doing anything to help now. I kept praying and thinking and offering suggestions, waiting for God to show up and erase my memory or change history or turn off the dreams or increase my coping skills. Trying to stay in control of my emotions and of my life was top priority, and I couldn't understand why God didn't seem to be listening or helping.

Then one morning, after an unusually difficult night of dreams that I now realize bordered on post traumatic stress, I had just had enough. In fact I gave up. There seemed to be nothing I could do to get past this pain. In tears again, I got out of bed and onto the floor, and knelt down, which was not at all my usual style of prayer. But I was out of ideas, out of coping skills and at the end of myself. I said, "God, I cannot handle this anymore. It's too much — I'm done. You are going to have to do this. Please take over because I am totally unable. Please, please help me." I remember sensing that the words were not the important issue — it was the total surrender that I felt. I gave up and gave it all over, and just threw myself emotionally at God's feet.

What happened next, I will never forget. It is not something I could ever have done for myself, and did not match any of the ideas I had previously given God. As soon as my cry of surrender was handed over, I found myself looking down at myself from another vantage point, and yet still feeling present in my body. I saw and felt a rock begin to lift out and off of me. The rock was in the shape of my own kneeling self, and it was heavy. But that heaviness was slowly being drawn right out with the rock, and went up and away. I felt the difference immediately, and even found it easier to breathe. It was something of a shock to feel so completely different, so instantly. Then I was given a small pebble to keep. That pebble was the memory, now just a small, manageable piece of my life history and one I could honor and keep without pain. Without pain! In that instant when I totally surrendered it all to God, the pain left and has never returned. I will always remember that "aha" moment when I realized that, not only was God present and powerful and real, but also loved me enough to set me free. I just had to let go of control, and make room for God's grace. It was as if I had come back to life.

Years later when I first heard Judith MacNutt speak on the topic of inner healing during a School of Healing Prayer^® Level I class, everything she said made sense. In her teaching, she put words to my experience. My mind returned to that memory of the rock lifting out of me, and the new freedom and life that came to me by God's grace. I knew exactly what she meant and was so thankful to know that others understood and had experienced this gift of God — inner healing! I wanted to know more! And I knew I wanted others to experience this saving freedom too. I wanted to be a part of what God was doing. This was too good, too transforming NOT to share!

Now, as the director of a prayer and healing ministry in Ridgefield, Connecticut, I pray regularly for those in need of inner healing, and train others to do the same. To minister God's healing to others is one of the most powerful and joyful experiences I have had. Because I've been there, I know the pain people often suffer. I understand how it is to feel like a broken down, abandoned house in need of One with a vision for renewal. And I absolutely know the freedom that is available through the grace of God and the timeless presence of Jesus Christ. Because I learned of the importance of surrender, I gently encourage others to trust and surrender too, and to invite Jesus into those episodes from their past. Our culture may not celebrate or understand this, but there is power and freedom in surrendering to God. God's ways are so much better than all our best ideas for ourselves, and when we make room, lives are changed. It is an amazing gift to see God rebuild lives and set captives free!

Debbi Mygat is the pastor and leader of a healing ministry at Jesse Lee Memorial UMC in Ridgefield, CT.