“Jesus, take the wheel!” I’ve said it jokingly in traffic. I’ve said it half-seriously while spiraling through anxiety. I’ve even said it with a full, ugly cry at 2 a.m. when everything felt out of control.
But here’s the thing: I still had my hands firmly on 10 and 2.
Surrender is cute until you realize it means actually letting go. Trust is inspiring until it asks you to do it in real time—on a Monday morning, before coffee, while your inbox is already judging you and life feels three steps ahead and two steps sideways.
The Illusion of Control
Let’s be honest: most of us are control enthusiasts. We calendar our lives down to the 15-minute mark. We refresh the tracking link for that one package 34 times a day. We plan, optimize, strategize. And sometimes we call it faith, when really, it’s fear in a productivity outfit.
The truth? Control feels safe—but it’s not the same thing as peace. And that’s where Jesus comes in, quietly but clearly, with the invitation:
“Let me drive.”
What Surrender Actually Looks Like
It’s not dramatic. It doesn’t always come with lightning bolts or angelic choirs or burning bushes. Most of the time, surrender is ordinary. It's choosing to believe that God is good, even when the plan doesn’t look like your Pinterest board.
It looks like:
- Starting the day with prayer instead of panic-scrolling.
- Taking the job you didn’t expect, but feel peace about.
- Saying “yes” when it’s scary. Saying “no” when it’s right.
- Letting that email sit until tomorrow because your kid needs your full attention tonight.
- Trusting that even your weakness is part of the plan.
Surrender doesn’t mean passivity. It means participating in your life without needing to control every outcome.
So... Who's Driving?
If I’m honest, most days I’m trying to co-drive. Like Jesus can have the wheel, but I’m right there in the passenger seat with a clipboard, a playlist, and some “gentle suggestions” about the route.
But trust—real trust—means releasing the illusion that I have a better GPS than the One who made the map.
It means embracing mystery.
It means believing God’s silence isn’t absence.
It means learning to rest, even while the to-do list grows.
On This Monday Morning...
Before you rev the engine of your week, maybe take a breath. Ask yourself gently:
Am I driving this day from a place of fear or faith?
What would it look like to trust God with this next hour—not the next five years?
And if the answer is “I don’t know,” that’s okay. You’re not a bad Christian if you still get anxious. You’re not failing if surrender feels clumsy. Just keep showing up. Keep loosening your grip. Keep turning toward the One who already knows the way.
Jesus, take the wheel.
And this time, I’ll actually let You.
