Although I’m now closer to fifty than I am to fourty-five (that’s so weird), I’m still a kid at heart.  I love youth games at summer camp like capture the flag or a battle of tug-of-war during field day activities!  

I’m not as strong as I used to be, but I still relish the challenge that accompanies a healthy competion.  The problem?  I absolutely LOATHE failure. I mean, I’m undone if I can’t “beat” the estimated Google Maps arrival time I’m given for a journey from point A to point B. It’s unbearable every time I lose a “Game Pigeon” contest on my phone.  

Yes, I have issues. Clearly, I should seek help.

My real issue, however, is that I DO seek help from the Lord regarding all major issues in my life–marriage, children, extended family, friendships, career–you name it, I pray about it.  I seek God’s guidance for everything in my life, fully admitting to Him that He is in control of my life, and that I want His will to be done above my own in every aspect of my life.  And then…I start pulling on the rope.

I play tug-of-war over control of the details of my life with the God of the entire universe.  As I’m sure you can imagine, this does not go well for me. I pray on Sunday evening that God be in control of my life, and by Monday morning, I’m in full-control mode over all the challenges ahead, plowing through my day in my own strength (which is never enough), tyring to be victorious in my own right over all that I face. I want to be the best devoted wife who cares for my husband’s every need.  I want to be the best mom who shows patience and provides attentive nurturing.  I want to be the best teacher and coach who always shows compassion and emparts wisdom.  I want to be the best friend who is thoughtful and actively supports those who lift me up.  And how is that going? 

The reality is that I fail to be the best at anything, and I beat myself up for failing.  So, is it just not God’s will for my life to be the best wife?  Does God not want me to be best mom, or teacher, or friend?  I mean, I pray about it.  I tell God that He’s in control.  But with every detail of my day, guilt and fear overwhelm my heart and I pull on that rope that I metaphorically tossed up to the Lord in prayer and try to take control of my life…again!  I neglect work to try and be a better wife and mother, or become a work-a-holic and forsake my husband and kids.  My friends don’t remember what I look like anymore, and I’m exhausted and just want to go to bed.

But God.  

He is so full of mercy and grace.  He loves me just where I am, just for who I am.  He meets me where I am and knows my troubled, control-freak heart. When I spend time with Him and open His Word, He says to me in Hebrews 4:16, “Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”  For every tug I take on that rope of control, He returns it by drawing me nearer to Him through His Word.  He pulls me closer to Him when He says, “Commit your work to the Lord, and your plans will be established” (Proverbs 16:3), and even closer when He tells me, “Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). And, finally, Galatians 5:1 states, “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery.”

These verses reminds us that Christ’s sacrifice grants us true freedom—a freedom from the burdens of self-reliance and the constant need to control every detail of our lives. When we release our tight grip on control and trust in God’s plan, we embrace the freedom He offers. The truth is, I will never be the best at everything—or anything, for that matter—because that was never my purpose. My purpose is not to win at life, to prove my worth, or to strive for a perfection I was never designed to achieve. My purpose is to glorify God in all that I do, whether in success or failure, in strength or weakness.

Every time I spend time in His Word, I loosen my grip on the rope. And, when I loosen my grip on the rope and surrender my need to control, I find peace. Not because I’ve mastered balance or figured out all the answers, but because I am held by the One who already has. He doesn’t demand my perfection—only my trust. And the beautiful irony? When I stop striving to be “the best,” I become the person He created me to be: a wife who loves, a mother who nurtures, a teacher who inspires, a friend who cares. Not because I’m winning, but because I’m resting in the One who already has.

So, I let go. And in letting go, I find freedom.