Who Really Has Control

From a fellow control freak, I get it, that fear of not knowing. That desperate attempt to make sure every loose end is tied, every plan is perfect, every “what if” accounted for.

Over the years, I’ve often joked about having 10 kids (which, let’s be honest, is an outrageous number) and how it took that many children to keep me out of trouble. But the truth is probably less funny and far more humbling: it took that many children for me to finally begin to give up control.

And even now, it’s only for the most part.

Because there comes a point in parenting, in relationships, in life itself, where I can’t do anything else. Where all my planning, worrying, orchestrating, and managing won’t fix what’s in front of me.

That’s where trust comes in.

I have to trust God.

I trust Him with the paths my children choose, even when they wander away from what I hoped for them. I trust that He will be there when they finally turn to Him. I trust that He will always provide a way out, even when the situation feels impossible. I trust that His voice, the quiet breeze, the still small whisper, will continue to speak long after my words fade.

And in all of it, I hold on to the confidence that all things have a purpose in God’s economy. Every trial, every delay, every heartbreak has meaning. He will equip me with what I need to endure the ripple effects of others’ decisions. He hasn’t failed me yet, and He won’t start now.

And here’s what I love: I am not in control.

I love that I need to listen for His urging. I love that I hear it. And I love that He leaves me with the one thing I do get to control, my response.

That’s it. That’s the choice before me every day. Not controlling the world. Not controlling my kids. Not even controlling the outcome. Just this:

Will I respond to His call with trust, with obedience, with surrender? Or will I cling to control and let fear win?

I can’t do both.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s the best news a control freak like me could ever receive.