Monday, June 15, 2026

Withholding Ourselves from Our Destiny

 



Dear Reader, 

Today my thoughts reach back to 1961, to the inauguration of President John F. Kennedy, when Robert Frost stood before the nation and recited his poem The Gift Outright.

One line continues to speak with power:

“Something we were withholding made us weak,
Until we found out that it was ourselves…”

Frost was speaking of America, but his words also speak to the soul.

A nation may have land, wealth, freedom, and power, yet still fall short of its destiny if it withholds its heart from a higher purpose. In the same way, a person may have talent, opportunity, faith, and desire, yet remain bound if something within remains surrendered to fear, pride, resentment, selfishness, or despair.

Looking back, the early 1960s seemed filled with promise. Kennedy called a nation to service, courage, sacrifice, and vision. Soon after, America looked upward and reached for the Moon. For a brief moment, it seemed as though we were being invited to become larger than our divisions.

Yet history reminds us that promise is fragile. Leadership can divide. Fear can harden. Self-interest can replace service. A people can forget the very ideals that once lifted them.

Still, promise is not destroyed simply because it is delayed.

Today, as NASA again turns its eyes toward the Moon, I find myself moved by the symbol. The Moon is not merely a destination in space. It is a reminder that humanity was never meant to live chained only to what is small, divided, and earthbound. We were created to look upward.

Recovery teaches the same lesson.

Addiction, resentment, fear, and self-will all narrow the soul. They convince us that survival is enough, that protection is wisdom, and that surrender is weakness. But recovery reveals a different truth: what we are withholding often becomes the very chain that holds us back.

We may think we are withholding anger.

We may think we are withholding trust.

We may think we are withholding forgiveness.

But in time, we discover we have been withholding ourselves from God, from others, and from the life we were meant to live.

The natural man clings. The spiritual man surrenders.

The natural man asks, “What can I keep?”

The awakened soul asks, “What must I give?”

Perhaps this is true for a person, and perhaps it is true for a nation. We do not rise by power alone. We rise when we reconnect with our higher purpose. We rise when freedom is joined with responsibility, when leadership is joined with humility, and when vision is joined with love of neighbor.

America’s destiny, like our own, is not found in division, blame, or fear. It is found in becoming willing again—willing to serve, willing to heal, willing to sacrifice, willing to look upward, and willing to give ourselves to something greater than self.

Frost’s words still call to us:

Something we were withholding made us weak.

Maybe the way forward begins when we finally ask:

What are we still withholding?

And are we willing, with God’s help, to give ourselves outright?

The Moon reminds us to look upward. Recovery reminds us to surrender inward. Frost reminds us that destiny requires giving ourselves to something greater than ourselves.

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