Choosing to Surrender

I chaperoned a field trip for my daughter’s elementary school class years ago. We went to San Antonio, Texas and toured the Alamo Mission. Having lived in Texas for several years by that time, the history of the place was already familiar. As part of settlers in 1836 seeking to break away from Mexican rule, 189 defenders in the Alamo took on more than 2000 Mexican troops. All the Alamo fighters died, except for a few non combatants. Among the dead was the famous frontiersman and Tennessee congressman, Davy Crockett.

As I wandered through the historical site, trying to keep track of 5th graders who had little interest in early 19^th century history, a thought occurred to me. What if the defenders of the Alamo had just surrendered? I didn’t dare speak this question out loud for any of my Texan friends to hear. The Alamo and the death of its defenders in the fight for independence is a national shrine of Texan pride for many. “Remember the Alamo” is still a slogan that can be heard in certain regions of the state. But the question persisted: was it really necessary for them all to fight to the death? Why didn’t they raise the white flag when they saw they were surrounded, and victory was hopeless?

Why not raise the white flag?

It got me thinking about what keeps people from surrendering. Of course there are times and seasons where, like the Alamo defenders, we honor those who tenaciously hold on against overwhelming odds: those battling cancer or some other terminal disease; those wrestling with mental illness or addictions; those persevering in hope through sadness and loss; those who resist bitterness and choose to forgive and even honor relationships that have been hurtful. Yes, there are times when surrendering to the forces lined up against us is not the best or right thing to do.

I find that I want to resist surrendering when I believe that the force or person to whom I feel forced to acquiesce is untrustworthy and intends me harm. I don’t want to give in to bad people or situations that will destroy what I value. Another source of resistance to surrendering is the fear of who or what I will become (or look like) if I concede to the pressure and just “roll over.” Surrendering exposes aspects of my character and identity. If I submit and give up, I can appear to be cowardly, selfish, and shallow. And I definitely want to resist that.

The question remains, however; when (if ever) is it appropriate, healthy, and right to give up and stop resisting the force that is pushing in to conquer me?

I think I can best explore this through the retelling of a bit of history.

A Story from Old England

One of my heroes from long-ago is Alfred the Great, king of the West Saxons who lived 848-899 A.D. He is remembered as a uniter of England and a fierce resister of the overwhelming hordes of Viking invaders. And from everything I have read, he was also a sincere and passionate follower of Christ.

His nemesis was a Danish marauder named Guthrum. When Alfred took over the kingship after his brother was killed, he did not fare so well against the brutal Viking armies. Defeated and driven into hiding, Alfred waited for his chance to strike back. And it finally came at the Battle of Edington in 878 A.D. Alfred’s Saxon forces broke the Viking’s shield wall, and Guthrum, with the surviving remnant of his army, fled to his stronghold only to surrender after a 14-day siege.

Here is where the story gets interesting.

One of the aspects that made the Danish invasion of the British Isles so horrifying was how the pagan Vikings treated their vanquished Christian foes. Kings and leaders that surrendered to them were routinely humiliated, tortured, and submitted to gruesome deaths. All this while the Viking victors cheered and celebrated. Typically, this was done as a sort of offering to their Norse gods. Guthrum, himself, oversaw such victory festivities. So, what might have Guthrum expected from the hand of Alfred who after years of defeat now found himself in the seat of power? Surely, he could count on nothing less than what all Vikings had done to those they had defeated.

Alfred, though now proven to be a fierce commander in battle, chose mercy instead. Of course this was the direct influence of his Christian faith. It was also something foreign to the pagan Norsemen. What was similar to the Vikings’ ways, however, was Alfred’s desire to make this victory an offering to his deity, the redemptive God. He demanded that Guthrum be baptized as a Christian. Alfred would be Guthrum’s sponsor, making himself the godfather of his dreaded Viking enemy.

Guthrum accepted these terms.

One cold morning, he and a group of his officers, all dressed in white, went through what was the process of baptism at that time among the Saxon Christians. Afterwards, there were days of lavish feasting, but not over the mutilated corpses of defeated foes. Saxons and Danes celebrated together, eating and drinking liberally. Guthrum was then given a portion of territory near the Saxons where he was allowed to rule as a Christian king. And for the remaining 10 years of his life he lived in peace, refusing to take up arms against Alfred despite being given multiple opportunities. He even, of his own choice, had coins minted with his Christian baptismal name on them.

So, what’s the point?

Many historians take the expected cynical view of this story. Though historical records do not give us direct insight into Guthrum’s thoughts, it is assumed he “played” Alfred in order to survive. This interpretation is understandable. But I wonder WHY Guthrum did not fight to the bitter end rather than submit to what he undoubtedly expected to be humiliation and torture.

My thought is that he had studied his rival enough to know that Alfred’s Christian faith included something called mercy. He surrendered in hope that the character of his opponent was different than himself or his Viking culture. This hope proved accurate. And judging from his behavior afterwards, his response to Alfred’s mercy was more than a shrewd path of dodging his doom. A Saxon historian records Guthrum (referred to by his baptismal name, Aethelstan) as a Christian king of East Anglia until his death in 890 A.D.*

God waits for our surrender

Giving up is appropriate when we believe that to which we are surrendering has better intentions for us than we can produce for ourselves. God is the One who is calling each of us to surrender to His Lordship and mercy. We resist because we doubt we will be better off by doing so. Or we despise the image of who (or what) we think we will become by submitting. Yes, giving up is almost always painful to a degree and scary. It is in trusting God’s character of mercy and love, however, that makes it a reasonable and wise thing to do.

The defenders of the Alamo did not trust the character of General Antonio Lopez de Santa Ana. And probably for good reason they did not surrender. But the character of our God can be seen more accurately in the figure of King Alfred who, though a fierce fighter, had good and merciful plans for his enemy, to turn him into family.

Like Guthrum, we each are being asked to lay down our hostility as an enemy and take up the offer to become a son (or daughter). There is redemption through complete surrender to the One who desires your best. God wants you and I to be close to Him.

Surrender. Try it.

Response:

• What is my initial emotional response to the word “surrender”?
• What keeps me from giving over every part of my life to God?
• What would surrender to God look like for me right now?
• Jesus, lead me into that place where I can give up and respond to you as a true child of God.

*For a very readable history of Alfred, including his relationship with Guthrum, I recommend The White Horse King: The Life of Alfred the Great by Ben Merkle.