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There’s a quiet truth I return to again and again: the only control I truly have… is self-control.
It sounds simple. But in a world that tempts us to grasp at everything—timelines, outcomes, people’s reactions, future plans—it’s radical. Because when we reach beyond our rightful realm of authority, trying to control what was never ours to manage, something sacred slips through our fingers: our peace.
Control feels like power. But when misapplied, it’s often fear in disguise. Fear of disappointment. Fear of pain. Fear that if we don’t step in, everything will fall apart. So we tighten our grip, micromanage, manipulate, overthink. And in the process, we exhaust ourselves trying to manage the uncontrollable.
The Myth of Control
Most of what we try to control—other people’s behavior, the future, even our own reputations—is out of reach. We may influence, guide, or steward… but we were never meant to dominate. When we confuse stewardship with sovereignty, frustration and anxiety are inevitable.
I’ve felt it in my bones—the strain of trying to hold it all together. The tension of white-knuckling life. The sting of reacting in ways I regret because I was chasing peace in all the wrong places.
And yet, the fruit of the Spirit—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and yes, self-control (Galatians 5:22–23)—reminds us where true power lives: within.
What Is Ours to Govern
Self-control isn’t about suppression or perfection. It’s not about pretending we aren’t frustrated or ignoring our desires. It’s about pausing long enough to choose a response rather than react on impulse. It’s about mastering ourselves—not to earn approval, but to protect our peace.
It’s in that sacred pause that we return to ourselves. We breathe. We wait. We remember: I can’t control them, or this—but I can choose how I show up inside it.
And in that choice, there’s freedom.
Peace as the Byproduct of Proper Control
Peace isn’t a product of control. It’s the result of relinquishing what isn’t ours to carry.
I’ve watched how peace quietly returns the moment I let go of something I was never meant to manage. The conversation I wanted to fix. The outcome I wanted to force. The reaction I hoped would affirm me. When I release those, I create space for grace.
We often say, “Let go and let God.” But sometimes letting go feels like giving up. It’s not. Letting go is active trust. It’s saying: God, I trust You more than I trust my grip.
The Practice of Self-Discipline
Self-control isn’t a one-time achievement—it’s a daily practice.
It’s built in the small, private choices:
• Setting a timer instead of scrolling endlessly
• Choosing a gentle word when you want to lash out
• Saying no so your yes has weight
• Pausing in prayer before replying in panic
Every act of self-discipline is a brick in the foundation of inner peace.
A Reflection Invitation
Where are you overreaching today?
What burdens have you taken on that aren’t yours to hold?
And what would it feel like to lay them down—gently, intentionally?
Perhaps the truest strength isn’t found in controlling everything around us, but in faithfully mastering what’s within us. That’s where peace begins. That’s where we begin again.