I can’t count how many times I’ve run into a problem: a conflict, a tough question, a relational mess, and almost without thinking, I start forming a plan. In my head it all makes perfect sense.
And if I apply enough logic or strategy, I should be able to resolve this. But too often, what I come up with doesn’t work. Instead of fixing things, my plan backfires. The conversation goes sideways, the relationship feels strained, or the situation blows up worse than before.
When I look back, I see why. My plans are usually built from my own assumptions, my own urgency to control the outcome. They feel airtight to me, but they don’t necessarily fit reality which includes another person’s heart.
The backfire is what exposes that gap, between the way I want to manage life and the way things really are.
So I’ve been learning to slow down. Before pedal to the metal I try to pause and ask: Why am I thinking the way I’m thinking? What’s actually driving me here? Is it fear? The need to be right? Anxiety about losing control? Just pausing to ask helps me see more clearly.
I’ve also learned that not every situation needs an instant fix. Sometimes the better path is to wait, listen longer, or invite another perspective.
And most importantly, I’ve had to start pre-testing my intentions: Is this coming from love, or from my own need to control?
Here’s the deeper lesson I keep bumping into: life-giving plans don’t come from holding tighter, but from letting go. Paul called this “dying to self.”
For a long time that phrase felt vague to me. But maybe it just means this: every time I release something I was clinging to, God replaces it with something truer, better, and more alive.
The more I let go: of control, of fear, of my rigid logic, the fewer backfires I seem to face. The engine of life still runs, but it seems to purr best when fueled by trust, humility, and love.