Principle #1: Surrendering to God’s Plan​

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Proverbs 3:5-6

 

Sis, are you sitting down? No, seriously, grab your favorite drink, take a breath, and lean in close. If you don’t read another word in this book, please don’t skip this chapter. This one right here? It changed my life. This was the key — the missing piece that unlocked the formula to my son’s success. But listen to me — it came with a price. A price I didn’t know I was going to have to pay. Why? Because I hadn't fully surrendered to God. I had seen God bless me in big ways. I’m talking about a new luxury condo, and doors of blessings for my business swinging wide open. On the outside, it looked like I was winning. But inside? I was cracked, spiritually broken, and completely out of alignment. I wasn’t anchored in Him. I was floating with the world. I wasn’t surrendering. I was slipping. Instead of sitting with my Bible open, I was sitting with a wine glass and Luther Vandross playing in the background, singing away my pain and gossiping with friends instead of giving my pain to God. I didn’t know even at the age of 38 that just because you’re saved doesn’t mean you’ve surrendered. And Sis, surrendering is the only posture to take.

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God had to knock me back down to my knees—not to shame me, but to save me. And in that low place, when I had nothing left but a whisper of a prayer, He met me. And you know what? Even in my brokenness, God didn’t throw me away. He built me back up piece by piece—with grace, with mercy, and with a new level of clarity.

 

This is the principle. The turning point. The blueprint. Don’t just read it—get ready to receive it.

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A complete mess! That is how I'd describe my life years ago. Not realizing how far I had drifted from God, I was worn out—spiritually, emotionally, and mentally. Caught between a six-year custody battle with one man and a divorce case with another, it felt like I was a woman in a boxing ring ducking, diving, and swinging with two heavyweight champs. They were draining every ounce of strength in me. Every encounter with either of them left me upset. The weight of life was heavy; my anger ran deep. I was angry with the situation, with life, and to be honest, angry with God.

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Support from either man? Nonexistent. Not one dollar, not even one cent. Their relationships with my young, twelve-year-old son left me in tears at night. Sleep was rare. Four hours of rest was a luxury. My tears were not just about being angry and frustrated, but from feeling shame and defeat. Shame I'd failed at being a mom and a wife. In front of others, I would pretend to have everything together, but to be honest, I was unraveling day by day, unaware that I was no longer surrendering to God. I would pray, then I would panic. I would talk to God, then I would find myself chatting with others about what a mess the two fathers were. Taking accountability for choosing them wasn’t a thought. Instead of reaching out to God, I spent countless hours worrying about what they weren’t doing right.

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One Friday in February 2003, there was a moment to exhale and have a little fun. A formal charity dinner at the Annual Chicago Auto Show offered a rare night. I had the weekend to myself. Aaron’s dad was scheduled to pick him up at school. 

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​​​​​​​​John drove me to the station. We arrived, and he had barely pulled his keys out of the ignition before I grabbed the hem of my dress and bolted off. The juvenile precinct building stood a block away. “Hold up!” John yelled. “Falisa, wait for me.”

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Slowing down? Definitely wasn’t gonna happen. My feet were moving as fast as my heart was beating. Finally, I reached the large glass entry doors, completely out of breath. With all my strength, I went to grab the huge metal door handle, and John stopped me. “Wait, I’ve got it!” I entered the building and my heels clicked against the ceramic floors as I rushed to find my son.

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A male African American officer approached us and escorted us to a busy area full of desks with officers working. I scanned the room searching for Aaron and found him a few yards away, sitting in a cold metal chair, watching me. His once innocent eyes were full of shame and fear.

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The police told me a parent from another school was pressing charges against Aaron for battery and theft. He said Aaron and nine other students from St. Luke's had left their school and gone to a public school to start a fight. He stated that the other kid said Aaron had hit him and stolen his coat, and told me my son was the leader and exhibited criminal behavior. The way he described it, Aaron was the leader of a gang. That is no joking matter in Chicago.

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I was overwhelmed. I had never known Aaron to do anything like this. He was usually the kid who helped and shared with others. I had to stop him from giving his lunch and toys away to classmates. What in the world was happening? Who in the hell was this kid?!

Aaron’s father never came to pick Aaron up from school. He never called. My date ended at the police station. 

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That night at home, I started thinking back and realized that Aaron had started struggling in school a few months earlier. The teacher said he wasn’t completing his homework, and he wasn’t focused. I felt that God had given me a sign, but I missed it. Two weeks prior, I had dreamed I was in a courthouse. I was wearing a purple garment, and Aaron was not standing beside me. My baby was standing at a distance with a group of people that I didn’t know, and he had a sad face.

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My dreams were always one of the ways God spoke to me. When I pray to God, I often pray for signs to guide me. There was so much going on in my life at that time that I had put things off. My prayer life had slowed down, and I often found myself falling asleep when I was praying. My spiritual life was not as strong as it was before. My bible had become a table ornament. I was not spiritually focused.

Now, I was in trouble. My kid was out of control, and I’d never been so unhappy. The worst thing of all is that I knew better.

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"Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you."

— James 4:7

 

That night when we returned home, I went to my room and grabbed a belt. A whipping and punishment were needed. I had not spanked Aaron much because he hadn’t done anything this bad. I told him to lie across his bed. I hit him across his butt once when a quiet voice told me, “Stop!”

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I hesitated, then I told Aaron to stand up. I gave him a disappointed look, and I told him to go to bed. Then I went to my room.

I sat on my bed in the dark, wearing my evening dress, and cried. I felt I had failed at everything. My marriage failed, and now I wasn’t a good mom for Aaron.

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“Lord, what is happening? Why, Lord? Why?”

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I stayed in my bedroom and fell on my knees with tears streaming down my face. I cried out, “Lord, what did I do wrong? Please help me. I don’t know what to do. If you get us out of this mess, I will be forever grateful. I only have this one child, which you gave me to raise, and I guess I’m not doing very well at it. Please, dear God, forgive me. Forgive me for not paying close attention. If you just make this right, I will honor you. I will be more obedient, and I will listen when you give me a sign.”

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I prayed about everything I could think of that was bothering me. I asked for forgiveness. I pointed out all the choices I had made without God, and I asked God to remove anything or anyone that was blocking me from hearing His voice. I prayed until I fell asleep that night.

 

The next morning, I woke up still wearing my evening dress. My hair was a mess. I lay in bed with smudged eyeliner, looking like I’d been fighting the devil. But I was rested, a feeling I hadn't had in months. The anxiety was gone. Lying there peacefully, I stared at the ceiling as the sun peeked through my bedroom blinds. The house was quiet. Aaron was still asleep in his room. Before I could place my feet on my cold wooden floor, I said, “Thank you, Lord, for waking me up. Thank you for a new day.”

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I looked over at my bible, picked it up, and read. I’d surrendered everything to God.

 

A few weeks later, we had an appearance in juvenile court. I was prayed up and ready. We met the guardian ad litem, and I learned the judge had already reviewed the case with the guardian present, and concluded that Aaron would be on probation until he turned seventeen. I was surprised that they didn’t include me. I didn’t know she and the courts had that much power. The judicial system had complete control of Aaron’s life, and I felt like I didn’t have a voice in the courtroom to fight for Aaron. I looked around and saw Aaron’s father leaving, looking terribly upset. I didn’t know at that time that he didn’t just leave the courtroom that day; it also marked the start of his exit from Aaron’s life. 

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I thanked the attorney and a friend who had come that day to support me. I assured them and the probation officer that they wouldn’t have to worry about Aaron and that I had things under control.

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In his book, The Purpose Driven Life, Rick Warren says, “Surrendering is not the best way to live; it is the only way to live. Nothing else works.”

 

Surrendering was a huge turning point for me. Once I surrendered, I could see God working on my behalf. I prayed more and worried less. I fought smarter, not harder. I won battles in rooms I wasn't allowed to enter. Instead of feeling discouraged and defeated, I became courageous and victorious.

 

Looking back now, I know that surrendering was the turning point in our lives. Surrendering didn’t just shift my life; it saved my son’s life. I had no idea of the ripple effect it would have in Aaron’s life.

 

To this day, my heart still skips a beat when I think about the weight my child carried at that time. At twelve years old, he’d experienced the disconnection from not one but two dads. That kind of loss? It’s not easy to explain; I can't imagine. There is no way anyone would expect or should expect a boy of twelve to have the words to express what he was feeling. So, he did what most young boys do — he lashed out.

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Sis, here's why I know surrendering works. By about 2005, we’d been on God’s path for more than three years. We were living in the same home, and Aaron was turning sixteen and completing his high school curriculum.

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We were both at home chatting about his future plans when we began discussing that day — the day he was arrested. We were sitting on our living room sofa talking, and with a serious look on his face, he said:

 

“Ma, being twelve and trying to understand divorce and child custody with y’all, was like being tied to two wild horses, each one pulling in a different direction. It felt like my arms were attached by ropes to each of you, and you were running full speed ahead in opposite directions.”

 

He dropped his head, staring at the living room floor. I sat quietly listening to his every word. Sadness started to creep in as my mind went back in time. But then Aaron said something else. Something that affirmed everything:

 

“Ma, what I really remember most was how you made me feel that day. When we talked, you weren’t still mad. I remember you handed me the phone when one of my classmates called, and you just let me talk. I felt forgiven. I felt normal. I didn’t feel like a criminal anymore. I felt like your son again. That day, Ma, I knew you didn’t see me as a bad kid.”

 

Sis, the juvenile system tried to label him as a criminal and a menace. But God showed me someone different. God showed me a boy who didn’t need pressure and punishment. Instead, I laid both of us at His feet and we surrendered to His plan. I don’t have any fancy terms, just my raw words to share. Sis, all I know is that when I dropped that belt after hearing the word “stop,” I stopped. I dropped the belt and then dropped to my knees. That is when the shift happened. I changed, and Aaron’s life changed.

 

I believe that surrendering isn’t passive; it’s powerful. This is what surrendering to God means to me:

• your cares, your worries, and your son to God

• a prayer life that is open and honest

• God to do what the scripture says He will do

• patient

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Staying surrendered is not easy. It’s a daily choice you have to make by trusting God through all your hills and valleys. Every day, you must position yourself to allow God to lead you.

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My Surrender Prayer

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God, thank you for another day.

God, I thank you because I know you know the way. God, I have my to-do list.

But God, you have a Falisa list.

God, I’m here listening and waiting as you order my steps, because I know your way is the only way to peace, joy, and salvation, Amen.

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Do you pray, “Lord, help me. Lord fix it,” but by morning, you’re worrying, overthinking, trying to fix it yourself? It can be difficult to wait on the Lord. Sis, it’s time to be honest. Have you surrendered? Are you working daily to stay surrendered? It’s time to release it by surrendering it ALL to God.

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Women Who Surrendered

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Hannah (Mother of Samuel) - In her deep pain, Hannah surrendered her child. Hannah vowed to give him back to God, and when Samuel was born, she kept her promise.

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“I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of him. So now I give him to the Lord…”

— 1 Samuel 1:27–28

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Esther - Esther had fully surrendered. She risked her life by approaching the king to save her people. Esther chose God’s mission over her own survival.

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“If I perish, I perish”

— Esther 4:16

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Mary, mother of Jesus - Mary, an unmarried young woman, said yes to God. She surrendered her reputation, her plans, and even her body to fulfill God’s divine purpose. She chose to trust God’s will over her own.

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“I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May your word to me be fulfilled.”

— Luke 1:38

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Let me share with you how faithful God is. Around 2013, Aaron graduated from college. I’m married to Wendell, who’s the Education Director at a media school in Chicago. One night, I’m in the kitchen. Wendell comes home and greets me with a “Hey, baby” kiss on the cheek. 

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He says, “Guess what? I interviewed a young man named Eric today for an instructor position. He said he went to grammar school with Aaron.”

 

I froze. “Eric? Wait . . . Eric?? The same boy Aaron got in trouble for defending?”

 

Yep. That Eric. The one Aaron stood up for in middle school. The very same classmate I allowed to speak to him on the phone the day after the debacle. Look at God.

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Now listen, while all this was happening, my son was living in New York City, starring as Simba on Broadway. That same boy who once sat in a courtroom wearing a juvenile ankle monitor was now walking with purpose, fully grown, college degree in hand, booked and busy doing what he was born to do. 

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And me? I stood in that kitchen with tears in my eyes, overwhelmed by the full-circle moment. What if I had chosen anger? What if I’d led with fear instead of faith? What if I had not surrendered?

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ACTION STEP

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Have you surrendered your life to God? In your 7 Faith Principles Journal, follow the questions and prompts for Surrendering to critically examine your life.