
Mondays have a way of waking up our need for control. The week begins, responsibilities line up, and suddenly safety feels like having a plan. A backup plan. And maybe a third plan, just in case. I notice how quickly my hands want to grip instead of open. How easily trust gets replaced by strategy.
Today’s reflection is not about abandoning wisdom. It is about noticing what I am holding tightly when I do not feel safe.
When Control Feels Like Protection
Control often presents itself as responsibility. I tell myself I am being prepared, proactive, and thoughtful. But underneath that readiness is usually fear. Fear of things falling apart. Fear of being disappointed. Fear of not being okay if outcomes change.
Psalm 20:7 says, “Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.” Chariots and horses were not bad things. They were symbols of strength and security. The issue was where trust ultimately rested.
Author Rachel Held Evans once wrote, “Faith is not certainty. Faith is trust.” Control seeks certainty. Trust learns to live without it.
What I Grip When I Do Not Feel Safe
I notice I grip outcomes, timing, and logistics most tightly. I plan conversations in advance. I anticipate problems before they arrive. I manage situations so I do not have to feel vulnerable inside them. Control feels like safety, but it quietly keeps my shoulders tense and my spirit alert.
Jesus speaks gently into this tendency when He says, “Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?” (Matthew 6:27). Worry and control promise protection, but they rarely deliver peace.
Spiritual writer Thomas Merton observed, “You do not need to know precisely what is happening, or exactly where it is all going. What you need is to recognize the possibilities and challenges offered by the present moment.” Control skips the present moment in favor of imagined futures.
Soul Insights
1. Control often grows out of a desire for safety.
I rarely try to control because I want power. I try to control because I want reassurance. When safety feels uncertain, my instinct is to tighten my grip. Naming that desire helps me meet it with honesty instead of judgment.
2. Trust feels riskier than control at first.
Control gives the illusion of stability. Trust asks me to step into uncertainty with God instead of ahead of Him. That vulnerability can feel uncomfortable, but it is where peace begins to grow.
3. Worry and preparation are not the same thing.
Preparation can be wise and grounded. Worry disguises itself as preparation but keeps my nervous system activated. Learning the difference helps me release what is not actually mine to manage.
4. Safety rooted in God steadies the body, not just the mind.
When I truly trust, my shoulders soften and my breath deepens. Isaiah reminds us, “You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you” (Isaiah 26:3). Peace is not only a belief. It is a physical experience.
5. Letting go does not mean disengaging.
Trust does not mean passivity or carelessness. It means participating without gripping. I can show up fully without carrying the weight of outcomes.
Final Thoughts
Today, I am noticing what I grip when I do not feel safe. I am practicing releasing control without abandoning responsibility. Safety does not come from having everything figured out. It comes from knowing who is holding me.
Your Turn
As this week unfolds, pause and ask yourself:
What am I trying to control right now to feel safe?
What would it look like to place that in God’s care instead?
By the way…
If beginning gently resonates with you, my book 17 Syllables of Me was written from the same posture. Each poem offers a small pause, seventeen syllables shaped by lived experience, faith, and becoming. This is a book meant to be opened slowly, revisited often, and read without urgency.
You do not need to rush through these pages or arrive with answers. Let them meet you where you are, one quiet moment at a time.

Thank you for taking the time to read! 🤗
© 2026 Amelie Chambord

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