The Power of Letting Go: Finding Strength in Trust

Have you ever noticed how the most successful endeavors often come when we release our need for control and embrace a sense of trust?
I’ve been reflecting on this idea, and it’s struck me how universally applicable it is, whether we’re talking about faith, work, or personal relationships. It’s about learning to let go, not in a passive way, but with a disciplined awareness of our own agency and gifts. It’s a willful surrender, a trust in the unknown that allows us to move forward even when the path ahead isn’t clear. True faith, I’ve come to believe, is one’s ability to withhold fear out of substantiated hope for the future. This kind of trust is akin to trust in God, or perhaps more accurately, our willingness to place trust in Him. In my reading of the biblical text, this act of trust is the archaic equivalent of ‘letting go,’ with the baked-in caveat of being psychologically sound and reasonable while doing so. Nonetheless, it is an inherently uncomfortable position for someone seeking control to remain in for sustained periods of time. And it’s important to remember that many of us seek control in ways that may even surprise us when they arise, often for reasons grounded in pain—in fear.

Strength is one’s ability to withhold fear out of substantiated hope for the future.

We often hear stories of leaders who fail because they couldn’t let go. They became so focused on maintaining control that they stifled creativity, alienated their teams, and ultimately undermined their own success. True leadership lies in fostering collaboration, empowering others, and trusting that everyone has something valuable to contribute. This dynamic plays out in fascinating ways in stories across cultures and time. Consider the Japanese folktale of “The Crane Wife.” A man rescues an injured crane, and in gratitude, the crane, disguised as a beautiful woman, becomes his wife. She weaves exquisite fabrics that bring him great wealth. But driven by curiosity and a need to control the situation, he breaks a promise and discovers the crane’s true form. The crane, saddened by his lack of trust, leaves him. This story, like many others, explores the delicate balance between control and trust in relationships, and how our need to control can sometimes lead to the loss of something precious. These stories, whether we interpret them literally or symbolically, offer powerful lessons about the dangers of self-reliance and the importance of surrendering to something larger than ourselves. These myths explore the human desire for mastery and the inherent limitations of that pursuit. They suggest that true wisdom lies not in dominating our circumstances, but in understanding our place within a larger framework.

Faith is holding onto hope when fear demands control.

One story that resonates deeply, and which I’ve been reflecting on quite a bit lately, is the biblical narrative of Samuel, Saul, and David. It’s a complex tale, rich with themes of leadership, faith, and the human condition. Saul, the first king of Israel, was chosen by God, but his reign was marked by a recurring struggle to trust in divine guidance. His fear and impatience often led him to take matters into his own hands, rather than waiting for God’s timing.

We see this, for instance, in the story of the unauthorized sacrifice, where Saul, fearing the Philistines, preempts the prophet Samuel and offers the sacrifice himself. This act, born of fear rather than trust, had significant consequences, setting in motion a chain of events that would eventually lead to his downfall. Saul’s story is a powerful example of how fear can drive us to seek control, even when that control is illusory. His actions reveal a fundamental misunderstanding of the relationship between human agency and divine will. He failed to trust in God’s plan, choosing instead to rely on his own limited understanding. His fear, his inability to withhold it in the face of uncertainty, became his undoing.

What distinguished David from Saul?

David, despite his own flaws and failings, is remembered as a man after God’s own heart. While the text doesn’t explicitly state “David’s heart was oriented toward God” in a single verse, that understanding is woven throughout the stories about him. It’s an interpretation derived from reading his actions as portrayed in the books of Samuel and his prayers represented in Psalms. David’s heart for God was fundamentally connected to his capacity for trust. He trusted in God’s guidance, even when he didn’t understand the path ahead. Several key elements contribute to this portrayal:

• Repentance: His prayer in Psalm 51, after his sinful affair with Bathsheba, is a powerful example: “Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love.” This willingness to acknowledge his wrongdoing and seek forgiveness is a hallmark of his relationship with God.
• Seeking God’s Will: David frequently consulted God before making important decisions, as seen in 1 Samuel 23:2, when he asked for guidance in battle. This reliance on divine counsel suggests a heart that sought to align itself with God’s will.
• Praise and Thanksgiving: The Psalms attributed to David are filled with expressions of praise, thanksgiving, and love for God, like Psalm 23: “The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.” These expressions of devotion suggest a deep connection and a heart overflowing with gratitude.
• Recognition of God’s Sovereignty: Even in victory, David acknowledged God’s sovereignty, as when he faced Goliath and declared, “I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty” (1 Samuel 17:45).

David’s heart, as the story portrays it, was oriented toward God, even when he stumbled. This isn’t to say that David’s leadership was perfect, or that Saul’s was entirely without merit. The complexities of their reigns, the practical consequences of their differing leadership styles, and how they were perceived by the people are rich areas of exploration in and of themselves, but those are themes for another time. For now, I’m focusing on this core difference: the heart’s orientation toward trust. David understood that true strength came not from his own power, but from his connection to God. He recognized his own limitations and was willing to surrender to a higher power. This humility allowed him to learn from his mistakes and to grow in his relationship with God.

“True faith” sustains hope in the face of fear’s insistent grasp.

This principle also resonates in the realm of personal growth. Think about times when you’ve been stuck in a rut, feeling like you’re spinning your wheels without making any progress. Often, the breakthrough comes when we’re willing to step outside our comfort zone, take a risk, and trust that things will work out, even if we can’t see the whole picture. We can become trapped by our own fears and insecurities, clinging to control when what we really need is to let go and trust the process. On the other hand, we can also find the courage to acknowledge our limitations, to seek guidance, and to turn back to what truly matters.

It’s about finding the balance between action and surrender

…between striving and trusting.

It’s about recognizing that true strength lies not in clinging to control, but in embracing trust and collaboration, in aligning our hearts with something larger than ourselves.

From a psychological perspective, this “letting go” can be understood as a process of relinquishing maladaptive control mechanisms. Many of us, driven by fear and past pain, seek control in ways that may even be surprising to ourselves when those tendencies arise. These control mechanisms, while offering a temporary sense of security, can ultimately hinder our growth and well-being. They can manifest as anxiety, perfectionism, or even addictive behaviors. Learning to trust, whether in a spiritual context or simply in the inherent unfolding of life, involves a gradual release of these rigid patterns. It’s about accepting uncertainty, tolerating discomfort, and recognizing that we are not ultimately in control.

Modern wellness concepts often echo these ancient wisdoms.

Mindfulness practices, for example, encourage us to observe our thoughts and feelings without judgment, fostering a sense of acceptance and reducing the need to control our inner experience. Similarly, therapeutic approaches like Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) emphasize the importance of psychological flexibility, which involves embracing difficult emotions and acting in alignment with our values, even in the face of adversity. This echoes the concept of biblical trust, which requires a kenosis, a “self-emptying,” a willingness to let go of our own agendas and surrender to a higher purpose. It’s a process of relinquishing our ego’s need for control and embracing a deeper connection to something beyond ourselves. This surrender, while potentially uncomfortable in the short term, can ultimately lead to greater peace, resilience, and a more authentic sense of self. It’s in those moments of surrender, when we acknowledge our dependence on something beyond ourselves, that we often discover our true strength.

Letting go isn’t passive—it’s an act of trust, a conscious decision to embrace what we cannot control. Whether in myth, scripture, or life, we see again and again that the tighter we cling, the more we risk unraveling what we seek to hold. But in loosening our grip, we allow space for something greater to unfold—sometimes in ways we never imagined.

[You] have to knock on the hard bottom of reality.

[When there] You’ve touched upon the really real.

This is the ultimate letting go: The shattering of the false self – which originally is not consolation but devastation; what feels initially like an emptiness, like a nothingness [and] paradoxically ends up being everything.

~ Richard Rohr

Love. Be confident. Create. Grow.
@ CyberArtTime 2025