How easily the heart cries, “Your will be done,” and yet how readily the same heart clings to its own imaginings of what that will must be. You thank God for plans exceedingly abundant above all you can imagine, and you do well to praise Him; but remember that His thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are His ways your ways. When the Apostle James rebukes those who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go into such a city, and buy, and sell, and get gain,” he strikes at the root of that self-assurance which maps out a smooth future and then asks God to endorse it. Take heed lest, while you purpose to shed every part of your own will, you have already dressed God’s will in garments of your own choosing. Far too often we put the telescope to the blind eye and refuse to see that the path of His good pleasure may lead through deep waters, through the lion’s den, through the valley where the shadows gather thickly. Faith is not the art of naming our desires and stamping Christ’s name upon them; it is the soul’s eye that sees the unseen, the hand that lays hold of the promise when all sense contradicts it. That promise of a future and a hope stands sure, but it is a hope that often wears the livery of the cross before it puts on the crown.
You speak of opening doors and walking through them, it is good, but do not be surprised if the door He opens is not the one you had painted in bright colours. The Canaanite woman came seeking a crumb, and she wrestled with silence and seeming rebuff until Jesus said, “Great is thy faith.” Peter stepped out of the boat at the word of Christ, but sinking in the waves he cried, “Lord, save me,” and that little faith was yet faith enough to bring the Master’s hand. The will you would relinquish may still be grasping at an idol shaped like prosperity, while the true will of God may be to strip you bare that you may learn to trust Him in the dark. “Without faith it is impossible to please Him.” That faith does not dictate terms; it receives a Person. It believes not only that God is, but that He is a rewarder of them that diligently seek Him, and the reward may come wrapped in the veil of sorrow, for the goodness that leads to repentance is often a goodness that breaks the heart to heal it.
You resolve to shed your own will. For this I commend you, but let it not become a fresh cord of self-effort. The will of a man is not cut off by a single stroke; it is mortified daily by the Spirit’s sword. You say you will listen to God through prayer and His Word. Do so, but listen also to the rod of affliction if He sends it, for the nearness of God is sometimes most surely felt when every earthly prop is removed. He is not far from any of us. In the tempest He is near; in the poverty He is near; in the bewildering silence He is nearer still. Trust Him when you cannot trace Him. Be not afraid of temporal troubles, nor of the darker chambers of His school. Trust is the antidote to fear, "What time I am afraid, I will trust in Thee." That trust is not the boastful confidence which thinks to walk the waves without a shudder, but the trembling hand that reaches out of the sinking deep, crying, “Lord, save me!”
Go forward, then, in the life of faith, but with this remembrance: the victory that overcomes the world is not the victory of a resolute will, but the victory of faith that rests in the Victor, Christ Jesus. He is the Author and Finisher of it. You cannot manufacture surrender; you receive it. You cannot conjure up the strength to make every change; you must draw it from Him. Cease from the fierce activity of self-renunciation, and look unto Him who is both the will of God and the fulfillment of every promise. Then, when you find yourself a mass of contradictions, strong and yet weak, believing and yet fearing, cast yourself wholly upon Him who knows our frame, and remember that even little faith is faith, and the Lord of the sea will not let you utterly sink. His plans for you are beyond imagination, but the pathway to them is faith in the dark, faith in the trial, faith that can stand still and see His salvation.