I don't like the word agenda, I prefer intention.
A year or more ago, there evolved in this forum a discussion over the difference in the context of the spiritual quest between the words “know” and “remember”, as in “Know Who I Am” and “Remember Who I Am”. As I recall the thread, the general sense then was that – in this context – they are pretty much synonymous, all the while acknowledging that centuries could be spent in seminaries splitting the distance between them. (For those interested, here is
that thread.)
As I read them here, I think I would say the same as regards the words “agenda” and “intention”. In a corporate business context, the two words are used differently, and appropriately so; likewise in the context of a theological discussion of sin. But in the context of the spiritual quest generally as it is considered in this forum and at TZF generally, the two words seem pretty synonymous to me. If anything, “agenda” sounds to me more chronic than “intention”, suggesting something long held, like maybe even over a lifetime, whereas “intention” sounds more short-term. But even that difference is not telling, I don’t think.
I also do not like the idea of surrender to something greater. Greater than what?
My own experience as a spiritual
seeker is that my perception of myself as “Stefan” about whom I say to myself and to all others (people, things, and God), “I am Stefan, and you are not Stefan; what is Stefan’s is mine and not yours”, is a fundamental error. This perception of error is supported by virtually every Teacher I have ever come across. More importantly and more convincing to me, it is supported, and undoubtedly nourished, by my own experiences into a level of awareness (if I may put it that way) in which or during which it is always indelibly apparent that the separative perception “I am me and you aren’t” is not only mistaken but impossible. These experiences have always been transitory, by which I mean they have never anchored; but it is always apparent that if they should ever do so, it would change everything I know about "me" and "life".
What has that got to do with surrender? To me, in this context surrender means a willingness to release the separative perception of “I am Stefan, and you aren’t” in favor of whatever this other level of awareness is. Thus, surrender is a willingness to be open and receptive, an enthusiastic readiness to welcome the unexpected.
Thus, in that sense, surrender does not have for me the negative connotation of defeat which accompanies it in ordinary usage (surrender to the enemy, surrender to the inevitable). On the contrary, it is a positive act. Here, I am reminded of the item at
TZF’s Quiet Room about the fellow wrestling with God, who upon being asked “How can you hope to win against so formidable an opponent?” responds, “You don’t understand, I hope to lose”.
… surrender to something greater. Greater than what?
Here, I would say, greater than the separative, egoic perception “I am me, and you aren’t me”. Does greater mean better? If God is all there is, as is thoroughly apparent to me, then everything is equally Divine and the Same, so as an adjective “better” does not work. What does work, again from my own experience, is greater as more – infinitely more – expansive, inclusive, harmonious, nourishing, joyful, and the like. In a word, greater as in more apparently
simple.
Continuing to speak for myself alone, early on in the spiritual quest – (when I became aware that it was a spiritual quest, because there never was a time when Stefan said to himself, I am becoming “a seeker”. Rather, at some point I became aware that I
had become a spiritual seeker, having somehow been enlisted or shanghaied into the role during or after leaving my “world job” and moving to the woods as homesteaders) – I (actually, Anna and I, but I don’t want to put words in her mouth) wrote a private “letter to God” (private in the sense that for a decade or more we mentioned it to no one else) in which we surrendered our lives to Him, whatever precisely might have been our perception of Him at the time, and committed ourselves to look to Him for everything. In a word, that letter was an expression of our taking literarily the Gospels Teaching, “Consider the lilies, and how they grow”, the Teaching of
Sri Ramakrishna, and so many others from so many other
traditions. It was a surrender (release) of very nearly everything we had been taught theretofore about how to survive in a reality described by ideas like “God helps those who help themselves”, “it’s dog eat dog out there”, “money talks, everything else walks”, “the golden rule is that gold rules”, "one man's blessing is another's misfortune".
In the sense of that letter, whose thrust became and has since been the defining force of our lives (although the letter itself long ago ended up in a drawer somewhere), surrender means to yield to God what has become increasingly apparent is already His, to wit, the governing authority and practical direction of my life and Anna’s life. Whether or not doing so is in any sense “greater”, or in any sense represents a surrender to something “greater”, I suppose one could argue either way successfully; but I can say this, again based solely on my own experience, doing so is far more effective as a way of life in every possible sense of all of those words than anything else I have experienced.
To be sure, as I observe in
an article at TZF’s Consider This!, some say that releasing our lives to God and relying on God in this way, is a cop out, and too easy. Maybe. But our experience is that it is far easier to continue struggling to pretend to be in control of one's life than it is to surrender it absolutely and unconditionally.