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.

Control

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

©joylenton2017

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.