Finding Hope in Surrender

Johanna Stamps shares her intimate journey of discerning a way forward with hope after the loss of her marriage before the birth of her son.

When my little one was born, my dreams did an about-turn. In a matter of days, I went from having a deep desire for success in business and personal finances to desiring to be singularly present for this little one for the first four years of his life (until he entered school). I would like to think that the tug-of-war ended in those first days, but the truth is that on certain days, I still wonder if I made the right decision.

During these years, Isaiah’s words to Israel have been my hope — a map to this new existence:

Do not fear, you shall not be put to shame; do not be discouraged, you shall not be disgraced. For the shame of your youth you shall forget, the reproach of your widowhood no longer remember. For your husband is your Maker; the Lord of hosts is his name, Your redeemer, the Holy One of Israel, called God of all the earth. The Lord calls you back, like a wife forsaken and grieved in spirit, A wife married in youth and then cast off, says your God. (Isaiah 54:4-6)

There’s no reason why I should be this far and still able to be here for my little one. The world tells me I should be at a 9 to 5, working on increasing my nest egg. I should be at a pace of safety. There is no reason why I should be where I am except for an overwhelming amount of kindness and almost daily miracles that have led to a deepening trust and walk of surrender.

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Called to Choose a Life of Surrender

In even the smallest, seemingly insignificant ways, I have been called back to the Lord. Just this week, I found my mind spinning with numbers, trying to decide on healthcare for the next year. Before bed, one evening, I felt prompted to write my true desire on a piece of paper and leave it out where I could see it. “God, I would like a special dispensation from the governor.”

I laughed nervously as I wrote it and then chuckled to myself as I drifted into the deepest sleep I had had for a month. The next morning at a church volunteering event, I found myself laughing again when a fellow parishioner mentioned she would be at the governor’s home that evening.

This type of surrender almost feels comical, but more and more, it seems it is what God is calling me into. “Johanna, stop spinning out. Tell me what you want and get on with your living.”

Trust is defined for me these days, but a gratitude paired with awe and wonder. It sounds a little like this, “God, you keep doing these incredible things for me. Thank you, I know this is possible too. I’m inviting you into this.”

Being present meant I couldn’t live a life exhibiting constant stress and worry. I know the children who are the product of anxious parenting, and I know God wants something different for this little one.

Yet, in the process, my life has been changed. At the beginning of the year, the only way I could explain this way of being was “life at the speed of calligraphy.” That’s what I desired: slow, beautiful, and purposeful. I didn’t know how important this would be as a compliment to my little one’s fast movements and knack for physical (sometimes death defying) tricks.

Surrender: Essential to Survival

I could have never known how important a life of surrender would be as I entered into work with people who are grieving. More often than not, the word I hear echoed is “survival.” If you would read a more intimate version of my bio, this should be my word too. Yet, as it stands, I see there is almost no place in my life that hasn’t been ushered into surrender. A place where I experience my relationship with Christ.

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