Control, noun, the power to influence or direct people’s behavior or the course of events, also, the thing, which we all think we have, but lack. I’ve always craved control, and really, everyone does. Some more than others, but I’m convinced that even the most carefree and spontaneous people in the world still try to harbor some sense of control in their lives.
I was a seemingly out of control kid; climbing trees, bringing snakes and bugs into the house, and on multiple occasions, eating dirt and sticking things up my nose that should never be stuck up noses. But despite my seemingly happy-go-lucky character and huge imagination, there was still room for a creature inside of me whose favorite food was the straws I’d grasp at to try and gain some control. I think everyone has a little control monster inside of them, but some, like me, make the mistake of feeding it. Sooner or later, that little nuisance can grow into a demon, the need for me to control certain aspects of my life morphed from a pest to a devil more quickly than I’d like to admit. Throughout the years, as I’ve satisfied its appetite, it has only come back hungrier and more demanding. I’ve come to realize my need for control has been most obvious in three areas of my life; my story, my community, and my faith.
Just before my junior year of high school I started roller blading. At first, it was just a good way to get some exercise as I’d stopped horseback riding the year before, but I soon found out that if I played my music loud enough and rolled fast enough, the world around me would melt away and I could enter a new world in which I controlled everything. I was able to become the sole scriptwriter for the movie of my life. It got to a point that I would leave the house for four hours at a time just to rollerblade circles around my neighborhood and get lost in my mind. While I was rollerblading I would daydream, but more than that, I would rewrite my past, editing embarrassing or lousy memories as well as try to draft my future, shaping it to my wants and desires.
My life literally became a movie reel in my head in which I was the hero, the damsel in distress, the prodigy, and the struggling youth all at the same time, in each of these roles I had the control. I could have arguments with friends I was angry with and win every time. I could flirt with the boy I had a crush on and be quick-witted and impossibly cute at the same time. By ignoring my reality I had the ability to paint my own, one that satisfied me and the demon inside of me. Looking back now, it would have been the same if I had smacked God in the face with the insult, “I’m not satisfied with what you’ve done here, so I’m just going to take matters into my own hands. Thanks for trying though.”
But more and more as I imagined something that I was convinced was better than what I had, I became less and less satisfied with the story I was living out. I’d even planned out exactly how these nine months would run their course. I would be hugging old people and kissing babies, sharing a powerful sermon to a sobbing congregation, a NEEDTOBREATHE song would always be playing in the background too. I had made myself the hero of my own tragedy, but you can’t play the liberator and “liberatee” at the same time. Really only one guy can perfectly perform the part of savior, his name is Jesus.
This demon named Control had reached into more parts of my life than just my mind; he started toying with my relationships as well. I struggled to gain control of any relationship I had or made; romantic relationships, friendships, work relationships, etc. No one was safe. I’d grow frustrated when people didn’t fit into the hole in my heart that Control was digging, and each time I failed, he dug a little deeper.
When it came to boys I’d draw them in only long enough to see whether or not they fit the narrative that I was composing. However, if they didn’t, and they never did, I’d give them some lame excuse like, “I thought I was ready for a relationship, but I was wrong.” The truth was, I never was ready for a romantic relationship; I was looking for someone to complete me rather than compliment me. Being the good Christian girl that I am, I sought out boys that loved Jesus, but somewhere along the way I got confused and started looking for Jesus in the boys. I’d try and squeeze the Jesus out of them, only releasing when I realized they were about as dry as my sense of humor. The only Godly man I need right now is God himself, and maybe he’ll introduce me to someone later on that loves Him more than he loves me, but still loves me a whole heck of a lot.
I also sketched a blueprint for how I wanted my friendships to work as well. I searched for people that were the perfect balance of adventurous, cool, and comical, leaving my true friends wondering where I’d run off to. I peered longingly into the lives of the “popular” kids at school, but a sip of that and I quickly realized that the Kool-Aid tasted less like happiness and more like insecurity and discontentment. Thankfully the friends that I was closest with and continue to hold dear accepted me back time and time again. If you want a predictable relationship with something living get a goldfish.
I think the thing that I’ve tried to control the longest though, but have had the least success with while trying to do so, has been my walk with God. I was waiting, unmoving, for someone to hand me an instruction manual on how to make my faith my own. I often grew envious of other people’s conviction in the gospel of Jesus Christ. My sister, my mentors, my pastor; they all seemed like they had it nailed down. Surely they all had to be hiding some kind of master key to God’s heart. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve started a reading plan to complete the Bible in a year and stopped midway through February. I would get frustrated because I was reading the Word, but not necessarily understanding it.
Control invited its friends Fear and Anxiety to join in on the fun and soon they were all having a grand time popping bottles of doubt in my spirituality and telling me that I was not in the least bit qualified to leave on this trip and teach people about the love and life of Jesus Christ. I know now that they were really just scared of the impact that I could have, but they put up a good front. Thwarted by my inability to hear God’s voice I was facing conflict that I thought I’d never see through to the end. I’d forgotten the most important part of a story is the conflict and the resolution that ensues. God reminded me that the only way He can speak and move through me is if I start speaking and moving too.
Faith is so much more than verses on a page or sentences muttered in the dark up through your ceiling and into the ears of God. It’s trust that God has given you the story He has because He knew you’d be the perfect protagonist on its pages. When I spent hours rewriting my story, I was breaking faith with Him. The author and creator of the entire universe wants nothing more than for us to just seek a relationship with Him. The Lord knows your story, but He doesn’t exercise control over people’s stories, and really He’s the only one that can. Sure He knows everything that is, was, and will be, but He doesn’t treat us as pawns on a chessboard.
God has shown me that the root of a lot of my sin and shortcomings is the desire for control and that the root of control is fear. For me my fear was not having any control. I let myself get sucked up in a “did-the-chicken-come-first-or-the-egg” kind of paradox, but instead with fear and a desire to have control.
None of what I shared is meant to be self-deprecating. However, I would like you all to see how God has shown me that my struggles came from the need to control every aspect of my life, the desire to write my own story, control the characters that were in it, and altogether take the pen out of God’s hands. Through really not having any control over anything besides when I sleep and eat these past four months the demon named Control has been starved out of house and home.
People grow and change, things fall through and pop back up at the drop of a hat, and God works himself into high fives and sunsets and plane rides and good food. Sometimes Control comes back to me, pleading and rattling his chains, begging me to look for something to control, but I’m learning to shut the door in his face. I’ve come to realize that the most influential, most captivating, and “in-control” person we can be is who we already are as an ever-changing, out of control being that is always becoming, but will never truly arrive until we’re knocking at the pearly gates. Ultimately I am a soul that has opinions about where it has been and where it may go but isn’t regretful of the past or fearful of the future.
