Let Go & Let God

June 18, 2025

When my family and I traveled out West this past summer, we were often reminded of a simple but powerful truth: sometimes, you have no choice but to YIELD—especially when faced with a force greater than yourself.

That force, in our case, was the Buffalo—or as John Wayne called them in True Grit, the “Big Shaggies.”

Before our trip to Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons, we’d seen the headlines:

• “Teenager Gored by Huge Bison in South Dakota State Park.”

• “Bison Head-Butts Car Stuck in Yellowstone Traffic.”

• “Pennsylvania Woman Gored by Buffalo—Second Incident This Week.”

  
  

So, when we saw the buffalo, we yielded.

And it wasn’t always easy. One massive bison made himself quite at home, bedding down just a few feet behind our camper. We named him Otis. He was so close that, with the windows open, we could hear him chewing in the middle of the night.

Yielding to something more powerful than ourselves is at the heart of the Christian life.

In Acts 1:4–5, Jesus gives a clear instruction—not just to the twelve disciples, but to around 120 of His followers:

“Do not leave Jerusalem, but wait for the gift my Father promised...For John baptized with water, but in a few days you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit.”

They yielded. They didn’t run ahead or try to take matters into their own hands. They went to Jerusalem and “joined together constantly in prayer” (Acts 1:14).

Because they waited—because they yielded—they received what was promised:

“Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven...All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit...” (Acts 2:2–4)

Jesus had given them a mission:

“Go and make disciples of all nations...” (Matthew 28:19)

Yet, at the time, almost none of them had ever left Palestine. Christians were just a fraction of the population—one in 30,000. But the kingdom grew because a small group of believers chose to yield.

So, what keeps us from doing the same? Is it because—we do not yield.

“Yield” is a verb. It’s an action. A choice. It means “to give over, surrender, or relinquish control.” And in a world driven by speed, ambition, and self-determination, yielding can feel like weakness.

But it is our greatest strength.

First, we must slow down and yield time to God.

As Bill Hybels puts it: “You can’t become an authentic Christian on a diet of constant activity—even if that activity is church-related… Strength comes out of solitude.”

John Ortberg echoes this: “You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life.” He adds: “Hurry is the great enemy of spiritual life in our day. Hurry can destroy our souls.”

Even the disciples were told to wait—before preaching, before planting churches, before doing anything. They were told to pause and listen for God.

A yield sign on the road doesn’t mean stop forever. It means slow down and let others go first.

On our spiritual journey, it means letting God go first. It means allowing the noise of life to still, so we can pray, listen, and trust.

Secondly, we must YIELD our prayers to God.

During our stop at Devil’s Tower in Wyoming, we were reminded of the sacredness of prayer. Though the name “Devil’s Tower” is widely used, many Native American tribes know it as Bear Lodge, a holy site rich with spiritual meaning.

As we walked to the base of the tower, we saw dozens of colorful prayer cloths—expressions of surrender, gratitude, and deep yearning. Each cloth was a sign of someone’s yielding to a higher power.

Thirdly, we must YIELD our lives to God’s will.

Too often, our prayers are filled with our desires, our plans, our assumptions. But prayer is not about convincing God to do what we want. It’s about aligning our hearts to His will.

The disciples in the upper room didn’t know what to pray for. They simply waited and yielded.

Glenn Clark, in The Soul’s Sincere Desire, explains: “‘Not my will, but thine, be done.’ When uttered from the heart, this statement becomes a spiritual key that unlocks divine power.”

We yield our prayers when we pray, not for comfort, but for God's will to be done—even when we don't know what that will looks like.

In Luke 9, when Jesus is transfigured before Peter, James, and John, a voice from heaven declares: “This is My beloved Son, My Chosen One; listen and obey and yield to Him!” (Luke 9:35).

Even Jesus, in the Garden of Gethsemane, yields His own will to the Father: “Not what I will, but what You will” (Matthew 26:39).

Billy Graham reminds us: “To be Spirit-filled is to be controlled or dominated by the Spirit’s presence and power... not doing only what we want, but what God leads us to do.”

Jesus taught us to pray: “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”

We aren’t just asking God to change the world—we’re inviting Him to start with us. “You, Lord. Not me.”

That has been the transformation in my own life. What once was a hesitant “I can’t do it, Lord” has become a faithful “You, Lord. Not me.”

As I mentioned last week, yielding often leads to detours. Life rarely follows a straight path. But as Henry Blackaby writes in Experiencing God: “God frequently requires adjustments in areas of your life that you’ve never considered... God is not trying to make life harder—He wants to be Lord of your life.”

When we yield, we open ourselves to transformation, even if it means change, discomfort, or surrender. “Remember,” Blackaby writes, “because God loves you, His will is always best.”

Yielding is not giving up. It’s giving over.

Giving over our schedules.Giving over our prayers.Giving over our lives.

To yield is to say, “God, You go first.”

And when we do, the detours ahead might just turn into blessings in disguise.