Advent reminder: Drop your self-reliance and just trust God
If I’m brutally honest (and honesty is the only way any of us ever gets free), I have to admit that I see a whole lot of myself in King Saul. It’s uncomfortable. Nobody wants to identify with the man who squandered his calling. But there it is.
Saul knew the sweetness of God’s anointing. He walked in a blessing so thick you could practically feel the oil dripping from the page. When he stayed surrendered, everything flourished. But then that subtle rot crept in, the whisper of self-importance, the itch of “I’ve got this,” the seductive lie that obedience is optional once you’re established.
And instead of pausing to ask the most basic, life-preserving question, “Lord, is this what You want from me today?”, he just charged ahead. Full speed. Eyes closed. Chest out. Heart drifting. He traded God’s presence for his own competence, as if the two were interchangeable.
But they weren’t. They never are.
And the truth is, pain and desperation have always been the catalysts that make me most sensitive to the Spirit’s leading. When I reach the end of myself, when I’m scared out of my socks, when I don’t know which direction to turn or which step to take, it suddenly becomes so obvious that the only sane response is to fall prostrate before the Lord and wait for divine intervention. It is in that pressing that the oil flows, and the words He wants me to speak come freely, as naturally as breathing.
But when life feels easy, I get sloppy. I sat down to write a blog this morning because that’s what I do on Tuesdays, and there was nothing obvious to say. Nothing flowing. And I knew why. I hadn’t been pressing into His presence. I had taken yesterday’s assignment and sketched out my own blueprint for finishing it, as if His voice were optional once I had the general direction.
And for many abuse survivors, this struggle cuts even deeper. Self-reliance becomes a survival mechanism long before it becomes a spiritual stumbling block. We learn early not to trust, not to surrender, not to lean on anyone who could drop us or hurt us again. Control becomes our currency, our armor, our safety net. But the very instincts that once kept us alive can later keep us from yielding to the One who would actually heal us. Letting go feels dangerous. Dependence feels naive. Yet God keeps calling us back to a trust that doesn’t erase our story, but redeems it.
And that’s the part that hits me hardest. Because Saul’s self-reliance didn’t just distance him from God’s anointing, it repelled it. The very thing that once sheltered him became the thing he forfeited through sheer stubborn independence. And when the presence lifted, God didn’t chase him. He simply moved on to someone else, someone whose heart was cracked open enough to obey, someone pliable, someone willing to ask for direction instead of manufacturing his own.
It’s a sobering reminder for me that God’s anointing isn’t a trophy we win once and keep forever. It’s a daily posture. A yielded heart. A willingness to pause mid-stride and ask, “Lord, is this You, or is this just me pretending to be You?”
And every time I feel myself sprinting ahead on fumes of self-assurance, I’m reminded of Saul, and I pray, Lord, don’t let me outrun Your voice. Don’t let me be the one You have to move past because I refused to slow down and listen.
And maybe that is why Advent feels especially precious for me this year. In a world that is hurting, frantic, and exhausted from trying to fix itself with its own two hands, God offers us a holy interruption, an invitation to stop striving and rest in His presence. Advent invites us to lay down our swords, turn on some sacred Christmas music, quiet the noise, and welcome Him in. It calls us to make room in the inn of our minds for the only One who can actually heal what is broken. A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices. Now is when we remember Emmanuel, God with us. And it is only when God is with us that any of our efforts amount to anything at all.
Originally published at Honest to Goodness.
Kaeley Harms, co-founder of Hands Across the Aisle Women’s Coalition, is a Christian feminist who rarely fits into boxes. She is a truth teller, envelope pusher, Jesus follower, abuse survivor, writer, wife, mom, and lover of words aptly spoken.
