Control is a slippery customer. The more we try to grasp it, the more it slides through our fingers. And yet we still try to hold on to those things we perceive we have a sense of control over.
They can become a mirage of sorts, shapes in a mist made material in our eyes. Control is a longing stemming back to Eden. Our souls seek to cling to it, and in the process we soon discover how ethereal and insubstantial it really is.
Maybe we’ve had control wrested from us in the name of love, leading to a lasting distrust of feeling decidedly out of control. Because it initiates primal fears, makes us nervous to realise we’re not running the show, that deep down there’s some insufficiency within.
Perceived lack and insecurity are strong motivators for tenaciously hanging on to the thin threads of our thoughts, clinging to desires, people and possessions, as though they could all be taken away somehow, unless we hold on hard.
When we reach out to God instead, we begin to relinquish control of our lives—one small step at a time. We learn to rest in, rather than resisting, His work in us. We develop a relationship based on trust in Someone faithful beyond compare.
And we soon discover that the freedom and liberty we gain in Christ is more fulfilling and meaningful than living a controlling life where self-control is the hardest thing of all to achieve.
I need to breathe, because I feel out of control
though it’s a human illusion to have complete
ownership over it all. How easily we
forget how our very breath is a gift from God
and every step we take or decision we make
fits within his eternal plan. And His prescience
precedes our existence, like his purpose
outlasts our earthly lives, our desire to build
empires, to dream, to daily survive and thrive
So I still my soul, as life spins me sideways
I seek to surrender these cares and concerns
these hoped for outcomes—release them all
into God’s safe hands. I choose to trust, just
because we can wear ourselves out on the wheel
or turn toward the One who’s moulding you and me
We’re lumps of clay being shaped by a gentle
Potter’s hands. We’re all potential works of art
to grace this world with our Maker’s mark
We’ve been given freedom to slip away
from his grasp, or yield to a touch that
only wants the best for us. There’s nothing
keeping us stuck—apart from a willingness
to become all we can be in the hands of Love
I’m sharing these free-flowing, imperfect poetic #FMF thoughts with fellow wordsmith friends at Kate Motaung’s place, where this week’s prompt is ‘control’. You can read the amazingly diverse posts being shared and come join us here.