You Aren't In Control

You never have been and you never will be. And that's the biggest relief.

Full, unflattering disclosure: through high school, I lived for me, myself, and I. As consistent with all the teenage stereotypes, I only accommodated my personal interests and fed the needs that I deemed pertinent in any given moment. My regard for others was close to nonexistent.

How did this egoistic approach affect my life? My relationships with those closest to me tremendously suffered. My motivation tanked. I experienced the lowest of emotional lows. Deep-rooted insecurities burrowed into my heart, contaminating the ways I thought, felt, spoke, and acted. Knowing full well that I wasn't seeking a relationship with Jesus, the enemy stealthily crept into my conscience and convinced me that the Lord wanted nothing to do with me: a washed-up church kid who was failing miserably in her role as a daughter of Christ. Attempting to disregard the feelings of guilt that accompanied putting the Holy Spirit on the backburner time and time again, I caused myself more angst and grief than anything by deciding I could micromanage my life without the guidance of the Lord. I justified this self-indulgent pursuit of pride in the fleeting highs of life, convincing myself that the rush of elating emotions I experienced when things were going my way was enough to sustain and fulfill me.

To no surprise, I was gravely mistaken.

Carrying the weight of every conflict and responsibility I encountered on my own lead contributed to immense sources of anxiety and depression that nearly convinced me I didn’t have a purpose, that the world would have been better off had I not existed. I mastered the art of performing, plastering on an ingenuine smile and a faux sense of assurance as I went about my daily business for years. In reality, I could hardly contain the spiritual warfare that was exploding inside of me, but no one would have guessed it. Not even me. Satan was conniving right under my nose, and his most clever strategy was his cover. Of course, no one is going to fight back they're obviously unaware that an attack is taking place at all.

My sense of pride contaminated my view of God, leading me to covertly believe that God's sentiments about me were entirely dependent on my performance. I developed a tendency to create space between myself and my loved ones in fear of entering the dangerous territory of vulnerability. The mere thought of exposing myself and my plaguing insecurities as a sign of weakness was enough to propel me into a callus, standoffish mode that repelled humans. I was a real piece of work, let me tell you. But I was hurting. There was a depth of anger at myself that I couldn't fully come to grips with, looming under the surface and influencing not only my interactions with others, but the way I viewed myself. I was throwing punches in all directions as a line of defense against my battered heart, managing to sabotage any opportunity for healing connection in the process.

Narcissism wields potential reek havoc on our receptivity to companionship and belonging--both of which make a world of difference in cultivating a sense of purpose. Dissolving the allures and temptations of the flesh in order to walk in unity with the Lord is no easy feat, and our pride is talking when we assume that the capacity to rise to an occasion of such sanctification exists within us. I can tell you right now—braving the weight of the world on your own may be preferable in theory as a defense mechanism, but it's miserable in reality. The reality is we cannot overcome obstacles, sustain ourselves in the face of adversity, and provide for our needs and the needs of others on our own. As Christians, we are appointed with the responsibility to provide spiritual accountability to those in our lives that walk with Jesus. We are called to represent Jesus by serving as His hands and feet in our daily walk. Our livelihood as believers thrives in community and relationships, which--in a nutshell--is what I was depriving myself of for far too long. Letting people in may come with its risks, but the alternative is a depth of loneliness that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. Abort the slew of what-if scenarios that crowds your brain, and defer the exhausting control that you desperately seek to the only One who is truly equipped to handle the affairs of your life. Parting with the control is the hardest part, but learning to surrender the burden of managing details that exceed your realm of control invites a relieving exhale of freedom.

I leave you with the blessed assurance of the familiar Proverbs 3:5-6: a verse we often encounter, though rarely believe:

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways, acknowledge Him, and He will make your path straight."