08/09/2026 - "52 Cards" (Isaiah 43:18-19); TAnn Pierce, Guest Preacher

Scripture: Isaiah 43:18-19

Forget the former things;
    do not dwell on the past.
See, I am doing a new thing!
    Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
    and streams in the wasteland.

~

I am pretty sure I would have been a terrible early follower of Christ.

To reference the Will Ferrell movie Step Brothers, I would likely have been the one to elbow the friend next to me and say, “What is this guy’s deal?”

I would have struggled mightily to trust Jesus’s newfangled ideas.
“I’m sorry. My preference is that you NOT wash my dusty Birkenstock feet, okay, Jesus?”

Unlikely that I’d have been first in line to make the trek, both literal and figurative, into the wilderness with this guy whose entire onboarding process consisted of two words: leave everything.

Seems like an HR nightmare.

His meandering storytelling would have driven me up a wall.

“Jesus Christ, enough with the parables about seeds and vineyards. It was a simple yes-or-no question. How could you possibly start talking about agriculture?”

Common sense would have had me thinking,
“Jesus Christ, why do you insist on repeatedly healing people on the Sabbath? Can’t some of this healing wait until Monday morning? Do you know how much backlash and paperwork we’d avoid by pushing back healings by just a few hours?”

I have a feeling I’d have been on the fringes of those crowds, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, judging harshly those who abandoned their families to follow this guy around. 

And, because my mama did not raise a quitter, but she DID raise a complainer, I’d have been quite vocal when loaves and fishes were multiplied instead of burgers and fries.

I am sure I would have held tightly to the beliefs handed to me at a very young age, never stopping to consider that a new and improved set of beliefs might be waiting for me.

Turns out I only needed a couple of thousand years to get on board with Jesus. But still it isn’t always easy to let go of my beliefs and habits.

Why is it so hard to let go?

I think of it this way.

Most of us begin life with a full deck of fifty-two cards. Each card represents possibilities: love, freedom, adventure, work, connection, curiosity, hope, purpose, and all the gifts life has to offer.

We don’t realize we're holding this deck of cards. We are too busy being human.

Birthdays pass.

To get out of childhood alive, we learn to fit in, silence ourselves, protect ourselves, please others, or prove our worth. It is in childhood that we start picking up more cards, cards like needing to be perfect, overachieving, hyper-independence, or the need to rebel. We can put up walls around our hearts. Or we can wear them on our sleeves. 

The older we get, the more cards we pick up. 

We pick up cards when we believe possessions will keep us safe. We pick up cards when we care too much what others think. We pick up cards when we believe we must always be right, always appear strong, or always be needed. 

We pick up cards when we use our power to diminish others, or we withdraw from others at the first sign of conflict.

Our inner lives become a lopsided game of cards, one where we pick up more cards than we discard.

Our hand of cards gets harder to hold.

Sometimes we pick up cards willingly. 

Other times, people lay down in front of us a hefty stack of those soul-sucking Pick Four cards. Sometimes life itself comes in like a whirling dervish, forcing us to play 52-card pick up, just when we thought we were ready to win.

When we make ourselves small to belong, we pick up cards.

When we lie to ourselves or others, we pick up cards.

When we become consumed by self-importance, we pick up more.

When we need to control others, we pick up cards.

When we confuse rescuing with love, we complicate this card game of life. Because when we frantically rush to pick up and play other people's cards, hoping to spare them discomfort or pain, we rob them of the chance to learn what their own hand will teach. 

There is meaning in struggle. Robbing our loved ones of resilience burdens us both.  

And if we carry everyone else’s cards for them, how will they ever know the freedom, the relief, and the joy of self-trust that comes when they are able to discard from their own weighty hand?

Living on autopilot, as we all do from time to time, burdened with holding on to all these cards, we become distracted. 

We forget that each of us has a tender heart that longs for simplicity and connection.  

But if we start paying attention, really noticing what we are noticing, we can begin to notice cards that can be discarded fairly easily.

Maybe we notice that we no longer need to impress a person who doesn’t give a rat’s arse about us. We discard a few cards from our hand.

Maybe we allow ourselves to fully grieve a dream that did not come true, accepting that the window to become a ballerina or astronaut has fully closed. We set down a card. 

Maybe we notice that straight A's and pleasing everyone never protected us anyway, so we start to prioritize our own purpose. We toss a few cards into the discard pile. 

Maybe we finally stop believing that trying to fix everyone and everything will save them (or us). Discard.

Maybe one day we notice our bodies, once strong and nimble, are changing and we decide to look at aging as a blessing, not a curse. Discard.

Maybe we decide to feel, deeply feel, giving up the habit of emotional numbing or avoiding. We let go of a whole lot more cards.

Our soul is always going to ask us: "You gonna keep gripping those cards so tightly? Or are you finally ready to notice you never needed those cards in the first place? Put some down already."

The quality of our lives depends upon our willingness to discard, to let go.

With clenched fists, we cling.

With open palms, we release.

This is the rhythm of life. Picking up. Holding on. Letting go.

One thing I have found in this lifetime is that giving up and surrender are not the same thing. Not by a long shot. 

Giving up feels flat and hopeless. It has a limp handshake, overcooked noodle, kind of energy. Withering.

Surrender gets a bad rap, but surrender is life-giving, active, and demanding. To surrender is to accept ~ to accept WHAT IS, not what we WISH. Surrender is a choice, a beast, really, that must be wrestled with over and over again. 

Surrender, acceptance, is deliberate and intentional and not in the least bit cowardly. Surrender is not even close to giving up.

In fact, one of the bravest, most terrifyingly alive things you can do is to surrender. To surrender to reality changes the game of life.

When we choose to surrender, to lay down the cards we no longer need, our load lightens. Surrendering, letting go of beliefs that no longer serve us, grieving what was not to be, and accepting and engaging with what is helps us align with our truest selves. 

Imagine if we surrendered the need to always be right. 

Or the need to constantly defend ourselves. What would happen if we surrendered the ego cards that keep us disconnected from those we love?  

What if we surrendered and began making choices based in love and meaning, instead of fear and panic? What if that became our legacy?

The more we surrender, the more cards we lay down, the more ‘us’ we can finally become. Compassion grows. Wisdom grows. Peace and love rush to fill the void created by the releasing of our outdated cards. 

And you know what? Our souls sing!

Ask yourself honest questions:

What am I holding on to that no longer serves me?

How old was I when I learned my coping strategies? Is it time to update them? Or set them down altogether?

What beliefs or habits could I consider surrendering, even if it is difficult, even if it seems impossible, so I can create more peace in my life?

Maybe winning the game of life is simply learning to lay down cards.

We need each other to do this. We always have. We always will. We don’t play the card game of life alone. 

Let others reflect back to you what matters most. Be vulnerable. Share. Count your joys. Notice beauty. Slow down. 

And it never hurts to roll down the windows and crank up the music. Light the candles. Sing in the shower.

Letting go is a choice, sometimes a small, imperceptible choice, sometimes a mighty one.

And if we're lucky, after a lifetime of picking up cards, clinging too tightly, then choosing to lay them down again, we will take our last breath holding only the two winning cards:

Faith.

and

Love.