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guest post by Jennifer Dukes Lee
If you asked me five years ago, I naively would have told you that I didn’t struggle with control.
Everything - Way
I mean, seriously— as long as everything went exactly the way I hoped, I was totally flexible.
I said I trusted God but had reached the point where I realized I actually didn’t.
It’s not that I wanted to control other people.
Mostly, I wanted to control myself.
Expectations - Anyone - Version - Control - Face
If I ever had high expectations of anyone, it was of me. I wanted to present the self-assured, together version of my whole being. Which means I craved control over my face, my emotions, my body, my food, my words, my house, my schedule, my yard, my future.
My preference was a tidy, predictable, safe life where no one got hurt, where my kids remained in one piece, where there was no pain for anyone ever again, amen.
God - Point - Jesus - Girl
I said I trusted God but had reached the point where I realized I actually didn’t. As a Jesus girl, this shocked me.
Clearly, my old systems of coping weren’t working: My desire to obsessively orchestrate my whole life was burning me out.
Mom - Kids - Ministry - Leader - Call
As a mom, I heard myself snapping at my kids. As a ministry leader, I knew that I was functioning within my call, but I didn’t feel fulfilled.
I was tired, even after a regular night’s sleep. And I found myself zoning out during conversations with my husband, because I was mentally making lists of everything I needed to get done.
In short, I ran out of gas.
Maybe the empty tank was God’s way of bringing me to a dead stop, so I would finally pay attention. It worked. God got my attention, and maybe he’s trying to get yours too.
Imagine - Gas - Imagining
Imagine that it’s you who’s run out of gas. Maybe that doesn’t take much imagining after all,...
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