There is so much temptation to hold on to my career even more

Hear now the confession of Jeremy Lin, the warrior of the court whose fame once blazed like fire in the night, who spoke these humble and courageous words: “There is so much temptation to hold on to my career even more now. To try to micromanage and dictate every little aspect. But that’s not how I want to do things anymore. I’m thinking about how can I trust God more. How can I surrender more? How can I bring him more glory? It’s a fight. But it’s one I’m going to keep fighting.” These words, though simple, carry the weight of eternal struggle—the battle between human control and divine surrender, between pride and faith, between the clinging of the hands and the opening of the heart.

For career, in the world’s eyes, is treasure. It is the measure of success, of fame, of security. To many, it is life’s highest prize. Yet Lin, who once tasted the heights of global glory in “Linsanity,” admits that temptation lies in clutching too tightly, in believing that one can control destiny by grasping at every detail. To micromanage life is to live in fear, to wrestle endlessly with what cannot be mastered. He confesses that this is not the path he desires anymore. He seeks instead the harder, nobler path: to let go, to trust God, to surrender.

This struggle is not new. The ancients knew it well. Consider King Saul, who clung to his throne with jealous fists, trying to control every detail, even against the will of God. In his refusal to surrender, he lost both crown and peace. Contrast him with David, who, though pursued and hunted, often laid down his will to God’s, singing psalms of trust. David’s greatness was not in his power alone, but in his willingness to yield to a higher power. Jeremy Lin echoes this ancient wisdom: that true strength is not found in clinging, but in letting go.

We see this truth also in the life of George Washington. When offered the chance to become king, he refused, choosing instead to surrender power back to the people. In that act of humility, he brought not only stability to a fragile nation but also glory to the ideals he served. Washington fought the same fight Lin describes: the temptation to hold, the struggle to surrender. And his victory lay in choosing trust over control.

Lin calls it a fight, and indeed it is. For the world whispers constantly: “Take control, hold tighter, dictate everything.” But faith whispers otherwise: “Release. Trust. Walk in surrender.” It is not an easy path; it is a battle fought in the heart each day. Yet Lin chooses to fight this battle not once, but continually: “It’s a fight. But it’s one I’m going to keep fighting.” His words remind us that surrender is not weakness, but the highest form of courage.

O seekers, learn from this: in your own lives, where do you clutch too tightly? Where do you micromanage, believing that only your will can save you? Know this: the tighter you hold, the heavier the burden grows. But when you release, when you trust God, you step into freedom. You find strength not in your own grasp, but in the One who holds all things together.

Practical is this wisdom: begin each day with a prayer of surrender. Ask not, “How can I control?” but “How can I trust?” When faced with fear, choose faith. When tempted to cling, open your hands. Remember that the fight will not end in a single victory, but in many small choices, day after day, moment after moment. And in each act of surrender, you bring greater glory to God, for you live not by your will alone, but by His.

Thus, Jeremy Lin’s words stand as a testimony for all: success, fame, and even survival tempt us to control everything. But the higher way is surrender, the greater path is trust, the nobler fight is to yield. And in that fight, though endless, the soul becomes free, the heart becomes strong, and life itself becomes a song of glory.