Giving Up the Idol of Control

“You said that you feel like if you’re not in control, bad things might happen. Can you explain that?”

The question, calmly voiced by the woman across from me, made me pause.

A friend had recommended seeing a homeopath for symptoms I’d been experiencing, but I hadn’t realized how intense it would be. So far, it felt more like a counseling session than an exploratory health conversation, and the questions had knocked me off-balance.

“Sure,” I said. I floundered, talking about striving for good grades and how I like a tidy home. Then, suddenly, a memory hit me and I remembered all too well.

I was in a car accident when I was 17. Three girlfriends and I fishtailed on a gravel road and slid into the ditch, the car simultaneously hitting a tree and rolling onto its right side. Seated behind the driver, I knew instantly that something was broken. It took a week in the hospital, fusion surgery, a back brace, and a summer to recover from fracturing two vertebrates.

Pausing for breath, I explain my revelation: “I know that if I had been driving, it wouldn’t have happened. Not that I wouldn’t have been in an accident—but that I wouldn’t have been in that accident.”

To me, the lesson was: If I’m not in control, bad things happen. I didn’t realize it until the homeopath asked her innocent question, but I’ve spent nearly two decades since that accident managing everything I could in an attempt to ward off the bad things in life.

Logically, I know there are circumstances I can’t control: cancer, accidents, other people’s choices, the weather, or the job market.

Oh, but I so badly want to. And so I’ll micromanage and overcompensate and get a little less sleep—all so I can feel a measure of command. Control is a merciless idol that guilts you into believing you can do it all, then taunts you with feelings of inadequacy when you can’t.

That’s how I found myself sitting in a small room, explaining the anxiety that had been plaguing me ever since I’d recognized how thin the veil really was.

Too often in my life, I’ve realized that every sin I fall into stems from an inability to trust God in an area of my life. When it comes to control, I fall victim to pride, say things I regret, or end up feeling despair when life doesn’t look the way I thought it should.

The truth is, you and I were never meant to have control. Instead, we’re meant to lay our worries at the feet of Jesus.

I love how Philippians 4:6-7 approaches this idea: “‘Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace…” (New Living Translation). The Message translates the first verse this way: Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers. The phrase evokes images of sugar cookie dough rolled out and cut into hearts and stars. Each formless worry is carefully shaped and placed in the Master’s care and keeping. You and I are not meant to hold on to misshapen, half-baked worries; we are tasked with handing them off to the one with true mastery.

In the months since that conversation, I’ve recognized the desire for control as the lie it is. The false comfort, now exposed, is freeing.

One daily habit that’s helped is to name the top three worries I have each morning, then spend a moment praying for each of them. Actively and intentionally praying for the things that worry me helps me recognize when I’m holding on to control just a little too tightly. Prayers are an opportunity for us to tell God, “This is what I’m worried about. But I’m entrusting it to you.” As my trust in God deepens, my worries lessen. And that’s just how God intended it.

Blessings,

Kristin