(Revised from a July, 1994 column)

OUT OF CONTROL

In an earlier column I spoke on my feelings about my role – or lack thereof – in the times of refreshment (specifically, the “Holy Laughter”) that swept through the Church a few years back. I mentioned there were some things I thought were keeping me from the experiences others had had. One is a problem of control. I’d resolved to work this out quietly, between me and God and maybe one or two other people, but a discussion at our home group meeting shortly thereafter suggested that this problem is more pervasive than I realized.

Our society is obsessed with self-control. We’re expected to control our diets, our sex lives, our emotions, our careers, our destinies. With some exceptions, those who are forced to rely on others for assistance are (at best) pitied or (at worst) looked down on. And, unfortunately, this attitude is not restricted to the secular world.

Granted, we’re commanded in Scripture to use self-control. But the Scriptural command is used in a different assumption than the secular expectation. The secular world expects the power of self-control to come from within us. God expects that power to come from Him. And here is where I – and many others – have gotten confused. We’ve tried to fulfill the Scriptural commands, as well as the secular expectations, on our own power. The result has often been botched lives; not only our own, but those we’ve touched, for power is addictive, and few of us can stop with just controlling ourselves.

Because we all live in the same world, we’re all touched by this control issue. But because we’re each created uniquely, we each react uniquely. Some can q1uickly relinquish the control that rightfully belongs to God; others find it difficult. With me, it’s like a knight who’s fought until his sword “freezes” to his hand. The weapon is not literally stuck to him by ice; rather, he’s spent so many hours rigidly controlling it that his muscles have cramped. Now, even if he wants to, he can’t open his hand and drop his sword. Likewise, I want to open myself, relinquish control, but I’ve held that control so rigidly for so many years that my spirit is cramped and won’t easily let go. So I struggle, wanting to “let go and let God” (as they say”, but finding my mind constantly prowling around the edges, watching to make sure I’m praying “correctly”, analyzing what’s happening to me and to those around me, critiquing it all, and constantly questioning. And when I fail in controlling myself where I should – and any self-control based on one’s own power is doomed to failure – I can’t just accept God’s forgiveness and go on. I just clamp down that much harder.

I want to let God control my life. When I double-pierced my left ear in 1994 (at the age of 42!), it was (at least partly) a symbolic representation of Exodus 21:2-6 and Deuteronomy 15:12-17 (Hebrew slaves were to be set free after six years; however, if the slave loved his master and refused to leave, his ear was to be pierced as a symbol of his decision and he would then be bound to that master for life). It was my declaration that I wanted God as my Master forever. Over the years I’ve used combinations of circles (the perfect geometric shape) to represent the perfect God Who is my Master, crosses to represent the Agent who purchased me for God, and blood-red stones to represent the price paid for me. The irony of this is that I had the piercing done before I understood the extent of my problems with control! No matter; the desire to have God as my Master is still there.

From experience, I’ve learned that the tighter the self-induced control, the bigger the explosion when that control slips. That revealed itself in me as long ago as high school, when I got up in the middle of French class and smacked the guy behind me in the nose after he’d spent months tormenting me (the last straw was when he used my back for target practice with pin-tipped airplanes!). Since then, the pattern has been weeks, months or years of iron control, followed by a violent, out-of-control explosion. Yes, I want to be out of control – but not like that!

At the home group I mentioned earlier, one of the young women told us about a steep hill near her parents’ farm. The previous winter, when snow and ice turned it into a sliding run to end all sliding runs, she and her friends and family took turns plummeting down the nearly vertical slope in inner tubes. They often had nothing beneath them but air, and nothing to protect them but the inner tube. Jodee quickly discovered that if she tensed up and tried to protect herself, she would be thrown from the tube when she landed and left stiff and bruised. But if she went limp and allowed the tube to absorb the impact of the landing, she was perfectly safe. From this she learned that if she tried to keep control of her own life spiritually it would end up bruised and broken. But when she went limp and allowed God to be her inner tube, He would take her safely through, a glorious, exhilarating ride.

That’s the kind of lack of control I want, the kind that can trust God to take me on the ride of my life, knowing that I’ll be safe at the end. I want to be able to lie on the floor or gobble like a turkey or weep or laugh uncontrollably if He wants me to, without analyzing or critiquing it. I want to have peace in my mind from the constant questions and doubts. I want to pray, with a simple, child-like spirit, prayers of effect and power.

I want to open my hand and drop my sword.