Surrender and Stewardship: Embracing Life’s Uncertainty with Faith
Week 1 of Being 32
Sadly, I am rather late in posting about week one of being thirty-two, but here I am once more. With two years of weekly writing behind me, I can’t quit now, as I have found that this is where I can organize my thoughts and ideas and process what I am learning. It was a hectic week with many different things going on, such as training, presentations, and a funeral, which can leave one somewhat depleted and unmotivated.
As I meditated on the events of the last few weeks, I was reminded of how messy life can be. It can be truly unpredictable and ultimately there is so little that we can truly control within our lives. Yet, it often seems to me that the thing that we most strive for as human beings is to maintain control of the uncontrollable. We try to control our aging or even reverse aging, thinking we can somehow avoid fate that awaits us all eventually. We try to control what others think of us through our online social profiles. We try to make others love us desperately, holding on to someone who doesn’t want to be a part of our lives. This is the human condition in its fallen state, ever seeking and hungering for something this world can not provide.
We grasp at illusions of permanence, convincing ourselves that if we just work hard enough, plan carefully enough, or present ourselves well enough, we can bend reality to our will. But life has a way of reminding us otherwise. A funeral, especially, strips away our pretensions and confronts us with the undeniable truth—we are not in control. We do not dictate the course of our days, nor do we hold the keys to the hearts and minds of others. The more we strive for control, the more we often find ourselves entangled in frustration, fear, and futility.
Yet, if life’s unpredictability is certain, then what are we left with? Surrender—not the passive, defeated kind, but an active surrender—a release of our grip on the illusion of control in exchange for something greater. We can fight against the inevitable, or we can embrace the reality that we were never meant to carry the weight of the world on our shoulders. We were not created for it, and our shoulders can not bear the weight. They will break, and we will break.
There is an odd kind of peace that comes with recognizing our limitations. The acceptance that we are finite creatures, subject to time, circumstance, and forces beyond ourselves, can actually be freeing. It allows us to let go of the desperate need to manipulate outcomes and instead embrace faith, trust, and the grace to live in the present moment.
Perhaps the challenge isn’t to master life but to learn how to navigate it with wisdom and humility—to accept what we cannot change, to steward well what we have been given, and to find joy even in the midst of uncertainty. At thirty-two, I am realizing that life is not about controlling every outcome but about learning how to walk through its unpredictability with grace. I want to engage well in the areas where I have been granted freedom and even control, I can control my mind, I can control that which I feed it.
The Parable of the Talents, found in Matthew 25:14-30, speaks to this very idea—the tension between control, surrender, and faithful stewardship. In the parable, a master entrusts three servants with different amounts of money (talents) before leaving on a journey. Two of them invest what they have been given, multiplying it, while the third, out of fear, buries his talent in the ground. When the master returns, he rewards the first two for their faithfulness, but the third is rebuked for his inaction.
This parable highlights an essential truth: while we are not in control of everything in life, we are responsible for what we have been given. The servant who buried his talent thought he was playing it safe, but in reality, he was paralyzed by fear—by his desire to control the outcome rather than trust in the responsibility he had been given. How often do we do the same? How often do we hesitate, afraid of failure, clinging to what little we have instead of stepping forward in faith?
I cannot control the uncertainty of life, nor can I predict what tomorrow holds. But I can control how I respond to what has been placed in my hands. I can choose to invest wisely—in my thoughts, in my relationships, in my work, and in my faith. I can choose to step forward, not in fear, but in trust, knowing that I was never meant to bear the weight of the world, but only to be faithful with what I have been given.
At thirty-two, I see more clearly than ever that life is not about ensuring perfect outcomes or securing absolute control. It is about learning to be a faithful steward—to use my time, energy, and talents well, not fearing what may come, but in confidence that what I do with what I have matters. I may not know what lies ahead, but I know that burying my talents, hiding in fear, is not the answer. As I look forward to another year of writing and sharing my thoughts, we will see what I learn in the process. For me today, the call is simple: step forward, engage, invest, and trust that in the end, the Master’s words—Well done, good and faithful servant—will be the only reward that truly matters.