Tag, You’re It
Learning to Toss Life’s Hot Potatoes to Jesus
Life tends to hand us many moments that feel too hot to hold, like a game of “hot potato” we never meant to join in the first place. Words we wish we could take back. Emotions that rush in like a flood. A conversation that stings, a diagnosis, a disappointment, or a silence that feels louder than anything we could ever say. They fall into our hands suddenly, and before we know it, our hands are burning. Some of us hold on longer than we should, trying to manage the heat and convincing ourselves we’re strong enough not to flinch.
I was raised and went through most of my life with the instilled belief that strength meant gripping tighter and holding everything together until I could figure it out on my own. After 29 years of living life, my path crossed with two of the kindest humans I’ve ever known, and they introduced me to the greatest teammate I have ever had: Jesus.
The longer I walk with Jesus, the more I realize that true strength lies in learning when to let go. When something feels too heavy or too hot to handle, I’ve started to picture myself whispering playfully, “Tag, You’re it, Jesus.”
It's a sacred kind of release that instantly dissipates the burden weighing on my chest. The heat leaves my hands, and I can breathe again. This little game that comes to life in my mind has become one of the most healing things in my walk with God. Because in that moment of tagging Him in, I stop treating surrender like failure or incompetence. I stop seeing my human limits as a weakness to be ashamed of. Instead, surrender becomes a rhythm of partnership between my fragility and His infinite strength. I carry what I can, and when it gets too hot, I toss it to the One who carries me. It’s not necessary to wait until we’ve broken down or hit rock bottom to let go.
Somewhere along the way, the idea of having faith became formal and almost rigid. However, it is my belief that faith, in its purest form, is play. It is joyful, trusting, and a childlike freedom that Jesus delights in, too. He told His disciples that unless we become like little children, we won’t see the kingdom of heaven (Matthew 18:3).
Children don’t overanalyze how the game works; they just play it and instinctively trust that someone will catch whatever is thrown. So, when I imagine playing tag or hot potato with Jesus, it helps me step back into that childlike trust. I can tag Him and say, “Your turn.” Then I take off running, knowing He’s got it from there.
The funny thing is, whenever I “run off” to look at something beautiful, like a butterfly or a flower, I eventually realize He’s not chasing me back with the heat I handed Him. He doesn’t shame me for forgetting. He simply lets me be His distractible, curious, and loved beyond measure, child. Then, once I inevitably pick up another hot potato, He’s already right beside me with His hands stretched out and kind eyes, saying, “Give it here. I’ve got it.” Before giving me permission to go back to looking at the butterflies. With that, I’m reminded that peace doesn’t come from solving everything. Sometimes it comes from noticing beauty while He handles what I can’t. Once I’ve surrendered, it stays in His hands. He carries it until it cools, until healing begins, until what once burned becomes something that refines.
Psychology might label this as a form of detachment or dissociation, but scripture refers to it as casting your cares upon the Lord, because He cares for us (1 Peter 5:7). The difference lies in the motive. Detachment tries to escape reality; surrender entrusts it. One runs away, the other runs toward. When we keep Jesus at our center, this becomes more like a divine redirection. It isn’t a disconnection, but rather the act of connecting our reality to His strength.
It's the holy art of letting go before we burn up trying to hold on.
When Paul wrote, “Be anxious for nothing,” in Philippians 4:6–7, he wasn’t dismissing our feelings; he was teaching us what to do with them:
“In everything, by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
In other words: Toss it.
Don’t hold it.
Let Jesus handle the heat.
Every time I play this mental game of tag or hot potato, I’m living out that verse in real time. It’s a different kind of faith; not the stoic kind that grits its teeth and endures, but the tender kind that willingly surrenders; sometimes with laughter, sometimes with tears, but always with trust.
Life here on earth will always give us moments that are too hot to handle. There is no avoiding it. However, when we begin to experience those moments, it is our signal to “tag Jesus in”, hand it over, and let the game begin. Perhaps that’s what childlike faith truly is: the courage to play again. The freedom to trust that the God who created galaxies also delights in the simple motion of His children tossing burdens back into His hands.
So, when something small or frustrating comes your way, you can whisper it, too:
“Tag, You’re it, Jesus.”
When His perfect peace replaces the pyretic burden that was being internally carried, you’ll know the game worked; not because you escaped reality, but because you finally let Him hold it.