The Cost of Control

Read

Psalm 37:7 “Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him; do not fret when people succeed in their ways, when they carry out their wicked schemes.”

Think

Let’s be honest, waiting would be easier if we didn’t have to watch everyone else getting what we’re still praying for. The job. The relationship. The healing. The opportunity. The peace. And not only are they getting it—they’re announcing it, posting about it, and sometimes doing it all with little thought of God. That’s when patience stops feeling like virtue and starts feeling like punishment.

Psalm 37:7 speaks directly into that emotional tension: “Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him; do not fret when people succeed in their ways, when they carry out their wicked schemes.” In other words—stop spinning your wheels trying to keep up. Stop fixating on everyone else’s pace. Stop assuming that faster is better or that success equals favor. This verse isn’t just about waiting. It’s about surrender. That phrase, “be still, ” in Hebrew means to release—to loosen your grip, to stop striving, to let go of the outcome you’re trying so hard to control.

But control is comfortable. It makes us feel safe. Even if we know we can’t actually dictate outcomes, it still feels better to act like we can. So, we plan more, stress more, compare more. We refresh job listings, stalk social media, overanalyze conversations—anything to make us feel like we’re doing something. Because inactivity feels irresponsible. Stillness feels like weakness. And waiting feels like losing.

But Psalm 37 flips that script. It reminds us that stillness isn’t passivity—it’s trust. It’s saying, “I believe God sees me. I believe he’s working. And I don’t need to manufacture momentum to prove it.” That’s not weak. That’s spiritual strength. And it’s especially powerful when you’re watching others succeed in ways that feel out of reach.

Comparison is a thief—it steals not only your joy, but your clarity. You start questioning your calling, doubting your progress, resenting your path. But here’s what comparison never shows you: the cost. You don’t see the struggle behind someone’s highlight. You don’t know the story behind their success. And more importantly, you don’t need to. Because your journey is not theirs. Your pace is not theirs. Your purpose is not theirs. And God has not forgotten you just because he’s blessing someone else.

Control tells you that if you don’t act now, you’ll miss it. That if you don’t force a door open, it will stay closed forever. But control is a terrible master. It makes you reactive instead of responsive. Anxious instead of anchored. Exhausted instead of expectant. The more tightly you grip your plans, the more drained you become trying to keep them alive. But God never asked you to carry the weight of your own destiny. He asked you to follow, trust, and wait.

Jesus modeled this beautifully. He was never in a hurry. Not when crowds pressed him. Not when people misunderstood him. Not even when his friend Lazarus died. He moved with peace, not panic. Because he knew the Father’s timing was perfect. Every delay had purpose. Every moment was full. Every step was led. And that’s the invitation for us—to step out of hustle mode and into holy trust.

What if the thing you’re trying to control is actually the very thing God is using to teach you dependence? What if the timeline you’re resenting is the tool he’s using to strengthen your faith? What if waiting patiently is the most powerful way you can declare, “God, I trust you more than I trust me”?

You don’t have to get it all right today. But you can take one step toward release. You can unclench your fists. You can stop the mental race of “what if” and “when will.” You can choose stillness—not because you’ve given up, but because you’ve given it over. The pressure is not yours to carry. The outcome is not yours to control. And the timing is not a reflection of your worth—it’s a reflection of God’s wisdom.

You are not being punished. You’re being protected. You’re not behind. You’re being led. Let go of what you can’t control and lean into the stillness that makes space for peace.

Apply

Think about one area of your life where you’ve been trying to control the outcome—maybe a job situation, a relationship, or a personal goal. Write down this phrase: “I don’t have to control it to trust God with it.” Keep it somewhere visible today. Let it be your release valve when anxiety creeps in.

Pray

God, I confess that I want control. I want things to move faster, look clearer, and feel easier. But I choose to trust you more than my timeline. Teach me to wait with hope, not hurry. Help me release comparison and embrace your pace. Let your peace replace my striving. In Jesus’ name. Amen.