A Fight for Control: The Day I Realized I Wasn't Actually Following God

Have you ever believed something? Anything at all? Deeply, sincerely held a strong conviction you'd argue to the death? Something you'd literally tattoo on your heart? Have you ever known something without a doubt — like doubt was simply impossible?

And then suddenly, everything you thought you knew is proven wrong.

Like when you found out Proactiv does not, in fact, work.

Or that $100 cannot last you two years.

The knockout punch that your mom isn't perfectly perfect.

And of course, the life-changing discovery that Santa isn't real...

Unless you're me; and the life-changing discovery is actually that reindeer ARE real. 🤯

Or, unless you're me again, and you wake up one day and realize the "Christian" you've called yourself for 20 years isn't what you are.

I never doubted Jesus.

I never doubted that He actually lived, then died, and actually rose from the dead. I couldn't prove it, but I wouldn't deny it — ever. I was raised with the idea that being a Christian was as simple as saying you believed, and believing you believe that Christ lived, died, and rose. Sounds easy enough.

But any call to something is a call away from something else.

The call to Jesus — yes — is believing that He came, left, and somehow remains. But it's also a call to recognize that because He had the power to live without sin and die in exchange for ours, He's worthy of Lordship.

I wasn't ready for all that. I'm still not, about 97% of the time.

Deeply obsessed with control.

As days have gone by and I've been learning more about marriage, motherhood, careers, and life... I've learned how deeply obsessed I am with control. I want to be the captain of my ship — but not just the ship. I want to control the seas and the winds. I have an unquenchable desire to understand what's going on in my life and make plans that work out based on my own logical, reasonable understanding of the situation.

And honestly? It's worked. My graven images of academic success and financial stability have guided my eyes and led my feet for years — without a misstep too far from my grip, and a little prayer.

Just a little. Because I was saved, I was sure. I had Jesus in my heart, I was convinced.

Until I was shown — by only God's grace — that to have Him in a section of my heart was to actually not have Him at all.

What Lordship actually means.

The call to Jesus is a call toward Jesus; in the direction of Jesus, in relation to Jesus. To believe in a man like Jesus is not to simply believe in His existence — it's to live in His presence. To walk with someone so closely that you trust them with the control you believed you should have.

I wasn't there. But that's what He deserves.

Lordship — supreme power or rule. Ruler. Master. King. Savior. G O D. He made me, right? So why wouldn't I relinquish control?

Because that's really a lot to ask.

It's a lot to ask in a world that tells me to go out and get it; be my own boss, climb the ladder, rise through the ranks, you can have anything you put your mind to. I believed that. AND IT WORKED. So now you're telling me not only was I not actually following God — but I shouldn't keep doing what's been working my whole life?

What I think I know vs. what I should want to know.

God promises that He satisfies — but I don't know what that looks like yet. I know what the other end of academic satisfaction looks like. I know what the other end of financial satisfaction looks like. And I struggle every day with sacrificing what I think I know for what I should want to know.

I think I know that money and earthly stability will feed my starving soul. But what I should want to know — who I should want to know — is the source of the creation of the very soul I'm longing to fill.

When I came to the knowledge that I hadn't surrendered any part of my life to the person I claimed as Savior, I was stunned. But I'm even more overwhelmed by the fact that He stuck by me anyway. Kept calling. Waited for me to hold Him the way He'd been holding me.

Yes, it's incredibly hard to have your beliefs crushed — especially seemingly overnight, after years of emotional buildup. But it's even harder to live so consumed by your own desires, only to realize at the end that the purest, truest desire is simply to be full... and the only thing that fills is Christ.

Still wrestling. Still grateful.

I wrestle, day after day, with believing that God knows best and has a much better plan than me. But 20-plus years of convincing yourself that you're the driver is hard to undo suddenly. I'm grateful that I'm struggling rather than surrendering to my own way. There is a difficult, yet beautiful, release in letting go of the power of self.

If you're living life on your own terms and wondering why the results feel cyclical — maybe try a new way. If you're living life on your own terms and thriving, but something you can't quite name is missing... there may be an answer.

The day I decided I wanted to surrender to Christ is the day I began wrestling with His will over mine. He's won every time. And has yet to let me fall.