I always do this. Try to drive, try to take control, try to get behind the wheel of my life and head in the direction I feel is best, not thinking of anyone else. I try to act like I have everything mapped out, like I know where I’m going, like I hold all the answers and don’t need to listen, to slow down, to follow the damn GPS.
But the truth is, I’m like a drunk driver, hands on the wheel trying to pretend like I’m fine. I’m glassy-eyed, acting like I can do something I know I can’t, but failing to see that my stubbornness will only ruin me, and potentially damage others along the way.
I’m dizzy. Dizzy on my own stupidity, my own clouded judgment, my own rash decisions, thinking that I can handle what I simply can’t. It’s like I’m intoxicated in the driver’s seat, foolishly believing authority doesn’t own me, as if I don’t have to be accountable, as if I’m fine without any help.
But God, you know better.
You know that I’m only fighting against you because I want to prove that I’m capable. You know I’m pushing back because when life falls apart I don’t want to admit that to myself. I just want to keep moving forward, running red lights until I can make sense of what’s happening again. Until I can merge back onto that highway and feel centered, ready to fly in that left lane with the windows down, not a care in the world.
But I always do this, don’t I God? I always forget that you’re the one with the road map, the navigation, the airbags and seat belts. You’re the one watching over me, guiding me, reminding me, again and again, that I don’t have to do this alone.
You’re the one with the hands on my shoulders, trying to shake me from my selfishness. Trying to tell me that I don’t have to be this wild, drunken driver down the road of my life.
Instead, I can lean into you, into your love and grace and guidance. I can let you start the engine and pull me back into the right lane.
Instead of me trying to pretend that I’m okay without you, God, I’m going to give you the keys.
I’m going to let you be my guide, again, instead of fighting back. I’m going to stop pretending that I don’t need anyone else, especially you, because you know that’s not the reality. I’m going to close my eyes and lean into your grace.
I’m going to remind myself that it’s okay to be imperfect. It’s okay to be a mess. It’s okay to not know where I’m headed, or to sit in the driver’s seat and just feel lost. It’s okay to surrender my poor decisions, my selfish judgment, my insecurity, my fear, my bitterness to you, and let you take control of my heart again. It’s okay to let you in.
God, I’m giving you keys. I’m letting you be the one in charge. I’m letting you save me from this mess and remind me of my worth in your eyes, even when I don’t quite deserve it.
I know we’ve been down this road many times before, and you and I both know we’ll probably head down it again, but right now, I want you to know I’m trying. I’m letting go. I’m surrendering to you and your love.
And I’m ready to begin again, but this time your hands with my hands on the wheel.