When I Finally Let God Carry Me

There comes a point in life when a person becomes tired. Not the kind of tired that comes from a long day or a sleepless night, but the kind that settles deep in the bones. A tiredness of the soul. I reached that point slowly, step by step, without even noticing how heavy my heart had become. I thought I was moving toward the future I wanted, pushing through storms because I believed my way was the only way. I fought every wave. I resisted every turn. I tried to fix every problem alone.

But life has a way of teaching you what your pride refuses to hear. It whispers first, then speaks, then shouts. And one day, I finally heard it.

That evening, the sky was covered with thick gray clouds. I sat alone at the edge of my bed, staring at my hands. They trembled with exhaustion. My heart felt bruised from years of fighting battles that were never mine to fight. I closed my eyes and whispered for the first time in my life… “God, I’m tired.”

It felt like admitting defeat. But in that moment, I realized it wasn’t defeat. It was honesty.

I had made plans. I had mapped out my life with certainty. But every time I tried to force my way forward, something stopped me. A door would close. A path would twist. A relationship would break. A job would fall apart. I blamed the world, fate, people, even myself. But I never stopped to consider that maybe God was redirecting me. Not punishing me. Not ignoring me. Redirecting me.

That night, I told Him:

“Take my plans. Change them if You want. I don’t want to fight You anymore.”

It felt like a weight slipping off my shoulders, like a river that had been blocked finally finding space to flow.

I realized I had spent years running toward a life that wasn’t meant for me. A dream that wasn’t written for me. I was chasing things He never destined for me to have. And in chasing them, I lost myself.

Slowly, I began to surrender. Not all at once. Surrender rarely happens in a single moment. It happens day by day.

I started waking up and asking, “What do You want me to do today?” instead of “Here is what I am going to do.”

I started trusting delays instead of fearing them.

I started accepting that rejection was protection.

I started believing that unanswered prayers were gentle redirections.

Life didn’t suddenly become easy, but it became lighter.

Even when storms came, something inside me stayed steady. Not because I was strong, but because I allowed God to be strong for me.

One day, it felt like God placed His hand on the clay of my life and said, “Now let Me shape you.”

And so I let Him.

He carved out the anger I held inside my chest.

He softened the fear that kept me awake at night.

He broke the pride that stopped me from asking for help.

He rebuilt places inside me that I had destroyed with my own stubbornness.

Sometimes it hurt. Growth often does.

Sometimes I felt like clay being pressed, stretched, molded.

But for the first time, I trusted the Hands that were shaping me.

I saw myself becoming someone different. More patient. More humble. More kind.

I realized that the life God wanted for me was far better than the life I was chasing.

Now when I face challenges, I don’t run.

Now when the waves rise high, I let them wash over me.

Now when a storm forms, I lift my head and say, “If You brought it, You’ll help me through it.”

I no longer fear what’s ahead. I don’t need to know what tomorrow looks like. I only need to know who walks before me.

And so I say again, fully and freely:

“Not my will, but Yours be done.”

Amen.