Ever since I was a kid I liked responsibility: oldest child, straight-A student, precocious, and reliable—I rarely disappointed. I take pleasure in a job done well, done right. And if I want to guarantee that, well, then I have to do it myself.
Gosh, it sounds awful written out there in plain text. But I can’t say it isn’t true. I love being in control and responsible. I feel deeply satisfied by coming through for my team, my family, my friends. It’s praised as a virtue, but I’ve felt its shadow side.
If I can only trust myself to “do the job right,” if I’m always in control . . . then I’m always in control, I’m always responsible. Can’t mess up, can’t slow down. It’s a special kind of self-imposed slavery. A vicious cycle of proving myself, being given more responsibility, proving myself again, and again, and again—until it feels like it’s all up to me.
You can imagine how I stopped twice when I came across the start of a familiar Gospel passage recently: “[Jesus] also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt” (Luke 18:9, NRSV-CE).
Ouch.
Jesus had a teaching for people like me. People who trusted in themselves. Trusted in themselves that they were righteous. They had it all together. Had checked all the boxes. Had proved themselves before God. Not like those other people.
Jesus went on: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income’” (Luke 18:10-12, NRSV-CE). Is the Pharisee really saying “thank you” to God? Sounds more like “You’re welcome for everything I’m doing for you.”
I wish I couldn’t see the resemblance, but there it is in my heart. Comparing myself and coming out on top. Complaining inwardly (forgive me: aloud too!) about other people who just don’t do their part, can’t get it together, leave me to pick up the pieces and fix up their messes.
What an illusion, control. As if any of us actually have it.
“[Jesus] said to [his] disciples, ‘Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life and what you will eat, or about your body and what you will wear. . . . Can any of you by worrying add a moment to your life-span? If even the smallest things are beyond your control, why are you anxious about the rest?’” (Luke 12:22, 25-26, NABRE).
I get the sense that Jesus wants me to hand over control, even my illusion of control. Because He’s right, control comes with anxiety. Worrying about my life, the meal plan, what to wear, whether people will like me, whether my family is safe, if I can get my project done on time, impress the boss, get the promotion, be envied by the neighbors.
Lord, have mercy.
Which brings me back to the tax collector. Remember him? “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector . . . The tax collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’” (Luke 18:10, 13, NRSV-CE). The tax collector was “other people” to the Pharisee, someone to look down upon with contempt.
But what did Jesus think of him?
“I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted” (Luke 18:14, NRSV-CE).
Humility says, “I need help. I can’t do this on my own.” It rejoices in others’ contributions and ideas, even the “imperfect” ones. It welcomes different perspectives and rejoices in its own limitations. Thanks be to God, I’ve experienced this, too. When I’ve let down my guard and handed over control, I’ve experienced refreshment and freedom as I’ve watched God work through the creativity and good will of others.
Being in control is overrated. It’s lonely. It’s riddled with anxiety; a pressure cooker ready to burst. And even when we think we have it, we don’t. It’s an illusion waiting to shatter. “All who exalt themselves will be humbled.” Sounds like a promise, or just a matter of time.
If even the smallest things are beyond my control, I want to humble myself instead. I want to take joy in others’ achievements and bear with their imperfections. Share the responsibility. Let myself be imperfect, too. I want to have faith in God in the middle of uncertainty. Not wrest back control. Rely on God, not myself.
Jesus addressed His parable to those who trusted in themselves. God, be merciful to me: I have trusted in myself, but the truth is: I am not enough. Even the smallest things are outside of my control. Thanks be to God. What He has in store for me is so much better than I could have dreamed up or planned. “Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen” (Ephesians 3:20-21, NRSV-CE).
