How Do You Surrender to God When You Don't Know What Decision to Make?

What I'm learning about trusting God when I desperately want to know I'm making the right choice.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.”
— Proverbs 3:5–6 NIV

Surrender has been my word this year. And lately, God has given me plenty of opportunities to practice it.

I've been facing a decision about whether or not to have surgery. It's the kind of decision I would really like God to make unmistakably clear.

Yes, Amy. Do it.

Or:

No. This isn't the right choice.

Wouldn't that be easier?

Instead, I've found myself doing what I suspect many of us do when we're faced with an important decision.

I pray. I gather information. I think I've made a decision.

Then I question it.

I consider the other option. Then I wonder whether that is God redirecting me—or simply my own fear talking.

And underneath all of it is one question:

How do I know I'm making the right decision?

When surrender starts looking a lot like control

I've realized something about myself through this process.

Sometimes I say I'm looking for God's direction when what I really want is God's guarantee.

I want to know what will happen if I choose surgery. I want to know what will happen if I don't. I want to know which decision I'll be happiest with six months from now. I want enough information to eliminate the possibility of regret.

In other words, I want certainty.

But certainty and faith aren't the same thing.

Proverbs 3:5–6 doesn't say, “Understand everything, figure out the correct answer, and then trust God.”

It says:

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.

That's much harder.

Because sometimes I've gathered the information, asked the questions, prayed about it—and there still isn't an obvious answer.

Maybe that's where surrender actually begins.

What is mine to carry?

I've been thinking about life as having a small circle around me. Inside that circle are things God has actually given me responsibility for.

I can ask questions. I can learn about my options. I can listen carefully to my doctors. I can consider the risks and benefits. I can seek wise counsel. I can pray. I can pay attention to what I'm experiencing.

And ultimately, I can make a decision.

But outside that circle are all the things I desperately wish I could control.

I can't know exactly how my body will respond. I can't guarantee the outcome. I can't see six months or five years into the future. I can't eliminate every risk. And I can't know what would have happened on the road I didn't choose.

That's where my little circle becomes an exercise in surrender.

I am responsible for making a thoughtful, prayerful decision. I am not responsible for controlling the outcome.

There's a big difference between the two.

But what if I make the wrong decision?

This may be the question I've wrestled with most.

What if I misunderstand God's direction? What if I choose surgery and later wish I hadn't? What if I don't have it and later wish I had?

I've caught myself acting as though somewhere there is one perfect decision and if I don't decipher God's clues correctly, I'll ruin the plan. But I'm learning to think about God's guidance differently.

God's faithfulness isn't dependent upon my ability to perfectly predict the future. I absolutely want to seek His wisdom. I don't want to rush ahead without prayer or ignore good counsel. But after I've prayed, gathered the information available to me, sought wisdom and honestly examined my motives, there may come a point when I simply have to choose.

And then trust.

Not trust that I've somehow guaranteed the outcome I want.

Trust God.

Isaiah 41:10 says:

“Do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

I've read that verse differently lately.

God doesn't say, “Don't fear because I'll tell you everything that's going to happen.”

He says:

Don't fear because I am with you.

Maybe I've been asking God for a roadmap when He's reminding me that I have a Guide.

Surrender isn't doing nothing

This has been another important lesson for me. Surrender doesn't mean being passive. I don't think trusting God means ignoring medical information, refusing to ask hard questions, or expecting a feeling to make the decision for me.

Faith and wisdom can work together.

I can pray and ask questions. I can trust God and research my options. I can surrender and make a decision. I can have faith and still feel nervous.

Surrender isn't refusing to participate in the decision. It's recognizing where my responsibility ends and God's begins.

So I've started asking myself two questions:

What has God given me to steward?

And:

What am I trying to control that was never mine to control?

That changes things.

My job is to faithfully handle what is inside my circle.

God's job is everything outside of it.

Maybe peace doesn't always come before the decision

I've also wondered whether I'll suddenly feel complete peace when I've found the “right” answer.

Maybe I will.

But I'm beginning to realize that peace doesn't necessarily mean the absence of nervousness.

A serious decision can still feel serious. There can still be unanswered questions. There can still be risk. There can still be a part of me wishing God would just write the answer across the sky.

Perhaps peace sometimes comes not from finally knowing what will happen, but from knowing Who will be with me when it does.

That's a different kind of peace.

It's not:

I know everything is going to turn out exactly the way I want.

It's:

I don't know exactly what happens next, but I know I won't walk into it alone.

Open hands

I'm still working through my decision. And maybe that's why I'm writing this before I have a neat ending. Because surrender isn't something I'm writing about after mastering it. I'm living it.

I'm learning that open hands don't mean I stop caring about the outcome. They mean I stop pretending I can control it.

So when I find myself spiraling back into all the what-ifs, I'm trying to come back to something simple:

Pray.
Seek wisdom.
Do what is mine to do.
Make the best decision I can.
Trust God with what I cannot know.

Maybe you're facing your own decision right now. Maybe it's medical. Maybe it's a relationship. A job. A move. A child. A financial decision.

Maybe you've prayed and prayed and still wish God would make the answer clearer.

If that's where you are, perhaps the question isn't only:

“God, which decision guarantees the outcome I want?”

Maybe there's another question:

“God, help me make this decision faithfully and then help me trust You with everything I cannot control.”

I'm beginning to think that's what surrender looks like. Not knowing exactly how the story ends. Just knowing whose hand you're holding as you take the next step.

A few questions to reflect on

• What decision or situation are you trying hardest to control right now?

• Which parts of it has God actually given you responsibility for?

• Which parts belong outside your circle?

• Are you asking God for wisdom—or for certainty?

• What would one faithful next step look like if you trusted God with the outcome?

A prayer for uncertain decisions

God,

You know how badly I want to make the right decision. You know the questions I have, the things I'm afraid of, and all the outcomes I've tried to predict.

Give me wisdom for the things You have placed in my care. Help me ask good questions, listen carefully, and make thoughtful choices.

And when I reach the edge of what I can know, teach me to stop grasping for control.

Help me surrender what belongs to You.

Remind me that I don't have to know everything about the road ahead because You are already there.

Give me courage to take the next faithful step and trust You with what comes after it.

Amen.