The night Esther’s son left for his master’s programme in Canada, she did not go to bed. His flight left Lagos a little before midnight, with a connection in London, and she had downloaded a flight-tracking app on her phone so that she could follow him. She sat in the parlour with the phone in her lap and watched a tiny yellow aeroplane crawl north across a dark map of the Sahara.
Every few minutes she refreshed the screen. She checked the altitude. She checked the speed. She read the estimated arrival time and calculated, again, how long he would have to wait at Heathrow. When her husband came out at one in the morning and asked her to come to bed, she said she would, in a minute. At half past two the little aeroplane stopped moving. The screen said the signal had been lost. Esther’s heart nearly stopped with it. She rang her sister in Ibadan, who was asleep and not pleased. She woke her husband. She was halfway through searching for news of a plane crash when the aeroplane reappeared, a few hundred kilometres further on, exactly where it should have been. The tracking had simply passed through an area with no coverage.
She told me about it months later, laughing at herself, but there was something serious underneath the laughter. “I was sitting there,” she said, “as if my watching was what kept that plane in the air. As if, if I stopped looking at it, it would fall.”
Most of us have sat up with a flight tracker of one kind or another. It might be a child’s exam results, a medical test, a job interview, a business deal, a court case or a relationship we desperately want to work out. We cannot fly the plane. We cannot change the weather. We are not in the cockpit. But we watch and refresh and calculate, as though our attention could hold the outcome up.
This teaching is about learning to trust God with what we cannot control, while remaining faithful in what we can.
Control dressed up as care
Control rarely presents itself as control. It usually looks like love, responsibility or wisdom. A mother says, “I am only worried because I care.” A manager says, “I just need to stay on top of things.” A believer says, “I am standing in faith for this result.” There is truth in each of those sentences. Caring, responsibility and faith are all good. But underneath them there can be something else: the belief that the outcome depends on me, and that if I loosen my grip, everything will fall apart.
Jesus asked a question that punctures this belief: “Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature?” (Matthew 6:27). Worry cannot make you taller. Anxious attention cannot lengthen your life by a single hour. Esther’s refreshing of the screen did not add one kilometre to the plane’s progress. The outcome she was trying to hold was never in her hands.
That is worth saying plainly, because the desire to control outcomes is exhausting. It keeps us awake. It strains relationships, because control eventually reaches for other people. And it slowly turns our faith into a technique, a way of trying to manage God so that He produces the result we have already decided we need.
Trust is different. Trust acts responsibly within its own limits and places everything beyond those limits in the Father’s hands. It can ask boldly and work hard and still leave the outcome with God.
Rebekah’s kitchen
The Bible gives us a painful picture of what happens when a believer tries to secure God’s promise by controlling the outcome. Before Rebekah’s twin sons were born, God had told her, “the elder shall serve the younger” (Genesis 25:23). Jacob, the younger, was to carry the line of promise.
Years later, Isaac was old and nearly blind. He called Esau, the elder son, and told him to hunt some game and prepare a meal, so that he could give him his blessing before he died. Rebekah overheard. And she panicked. If Isaac blessed Esau, what would happen to the promise?
So she took control. She told Jacob to bring two young goats from the flock, and she cooked them the way Isaac liked. She dressed Jacob in Esau’s clothes and covered his hands and neck with goatskin so that he would feel hairy like his brother. When Jacob worried that he would be caught and bring a curse on himself, she said, “Upon me be thy curse, my son: only obey my voice” (Genesis 27:13). She had planned everything.
And it worked, in a way. Isaac was deceived. When he asked how the game had been found so quickly, Jacob even said, “Because the LORD thy God brought it to me” (Genesis 27:20). Notice that. The deception was carried out in God’s name. Control very often borrows spiritual language to justify itself.
Jacob received the blessing. But look at the cost. Esau vowed to kill his brother. Rebekah had to send Jacob away to her brother Laban in Haran, saying he should stay “a few days, until thy brother’s fury turn away” (Genesis 27:44). The few days became twenty years (Genesis 31:41). In Haran, Jacob the deceiver was himself deceived, by Laban, on his wedding night. And as far as Scripture records, Rebekah never saw her favourite son again. When Jacob finally returned, there is no mention of her, and we next hear of her only in the list of those buried in the family tomb (Genesis 49:31).
God’s purpose for Jacob did stand. God is not defeated by our manipulation. But Rebekah’s attempt to control the outcome did not help His promise along. It only brought grief to her household. The promise was never in danger. God did not need her goats or her goatskins. He needed her trust.
Many of us have a Rebekah’s kitchen somewhere in our story: a moment when we were so afraid that God’s purpose would fail that we arranged things ourselves, perhaps with a little deception, perhaps with a lot of pressure. The good news is that God is merciful even there. He met Jacob at Bethel as he fled, and He never abandoned him. But the lesson is clear. Faith does not need to manipulate outcomes in order to secure what God has promised.
“But if not”
There is a story in Daniel that shows the opposite posture, in the most extreme circumstances imaginable. King Nebuchadnezzar had set up a golden image ninety feet tall on the plain of Dura and commanded every official in his empire to bow down to it when the music played. Three young Jewish men, Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-nego, refused. The king, in a rage, gave them one last chance and warned them that if they did not bow, they would be thrown into a burning fiery furnace. “And who is that God that shall deliver you out of my hands?” he asked (Daniel 3:15). Their answer is one of the most remarkable statements of faith in the Bible:
Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego, answered and said to the king, O Nebuchadnezzar, we are not careful to answer thee in this matter. If it be so , our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of thine hand, O king. But if not, be it known unto thee, O king, that we will not serve thy gods, nor worship the golden image which thou hast set up.
“We are not careful to answer thee in this matter.” In the English of 1611, careful meant anxious, full of care. They were saying, in effect, we do not need to defend ourselves before you. They were not frantic. They were not trying to negotiate.
Then they said two things side by side. First: “our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of thine hand, O king.” That is real confidence in God’s power and real expectation of His help. They did not doubt Him.
And second: “But if not.” Even if God did not deliver them in the way they hoped, they would still not bow down. Their allegiance did not depend on knowing the outcome in advance. They had settled what they would do. They had left with God what He would do.
This is the heart of trust without control. They were confident in God’s ability. They were sincere in their expectation. But they refused to make their faithfulness conditional on a guaranteed result. Their answer amounted to this: we will trust You, and we leave the rescue in Your hands.
God did deliver them. The furnace was heated seven times hotter than usual, so hot that it killed the soldiers who threw them in. And yet when the king looked into the flames, he saw four men walking loose in the fire, “and the form of the fourth is like the Son of God” (Daniel 3:25). They came out without even the smell of fire on them (Daniel 3:27). We should rejoice in that deliverance. But we should not miss the faith that came before it. They had placed themselves in God’s hands while the outcome was still completely unknown.
PunchlineTrust settles what you will do and leaves with God what He will do. It can say “He is able” and “But if not” in the same breath.
“Nevertheless”
The deepest example of this kind of trust is found in the garden of Gethsemane, on the night before the cross. Luke records it:
And he was withdrawn from them about a stone’s cast, and kneeled down, and prayed, Saying, Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but thine, be done. And there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him. And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground.
Jesus did not pretend. He did not hide His anguish behind a calm religious face. He asked plainly for what He wanted: “Father, if thou be willing, remove this cup from me.” He was in such agony that His sweat fell like great drops of blood. Honest desire was fully present in His prayer.
And then He said, “nevertheless.” He placed His desire within His Father’s will. He did not try to control the outcome or bargain with His Father. He trusted Him.
We must be careful here. Jesus’ suffering had a unique redemptive purpose. The cup He drank was the cup of judgement for the sins of the world, and our difficulties are not the same as His atoning work. Yet His prayer still teaches us something vital: honest desire and surrendered trust can belong in the same conversation with God.
Some believers think that surrender means having no preferences. They pray vague prayers, afraid to ask for anything specific in case it shows a lack of submission. That is not what Jesus did. He asked clearly. Others think that faith means insisting on a particular outcome and refusing to consider any other. That is not what Jesus did either. He asked clearly and then entrusted the answer to the Father who saw more than He did in that hour.
You may ask boldly for what you long to see. Father, I want this marriage to be healed. I want this child to come home. I want this contract. Say it. And then say nevertheless. That word leaves your request standing and places it in safer hands than your own.
When the Spirit closes a road
Sometimes trusting God means accepting that our plans will change. Paul learned this on his second missionary journey:
Now when they had gone throughout Phrygia and the region of Galatia, and were forbidden of the Holy Ghost to preach the word in Asia, After they were come to Mysia, they assayed to go into Bithynia: but the Spirit suffered them not. And they passing by Mysia came down to Troas. And a vision appeared to Paul in the night; There stood a man of Macedonia, and prayed him, saying, Come over into Macedonia, and help us. And after he had seen the vision, immediately we endeavoured to go into Macedonia, assuredly gathering that the Lord had called us for to preach the gospel unto them.
Paul had a plan. He wanted to preach in Asia, the Roman province on the western coast of what is now Turkey. It was a reasonable plan, full of great cities. But they were “forbidden of the Holy Ghost.” So they tried Bithynia, to the north. “But the Spirit suffered them not.” Two doors closed in a row. We are not told how the Spirit closed them. Perhaps through circumstances, perhaps through a prophetic word, perhaps through an inner restraint. All we know is that Paul’s sensible strategy did not happen.
They ended up in Troas, on the coast, presumably uncertain what came next. And there, in the night, Paul saw a vision of a man of Macedonia saying, “Come over into Macedonia, and help us.” They concluded that God was calling them, and they went. That journey brought the gospel into Europe. Within days they were in Philippi, where Lydia believed, and a church was born that would partner with Paul in the gospel for years to come.
NuggetNotice that the closed roads were part of the guidance. Paul could not have reached Macedonia if Asia and Bithynia had stayed open. What felt like obstruction was direction.
Notice too that Paul did not sit still waiting for a vision. He tried. He planned, travelled and attempted things. Trust makes responsible plans and holds them loosely enough to be redirected.
We should be careful not to read a spiritual message into every obstacle. A difficulty may call for perseverance, not a change of direction. It may reveal a practical weakness that needs attention. It may simply be an inconvenience. Mature judgement asks questions before assigning meaning. But when a door closes despite faithful effort, it is worth considering whether the Father is steering you toward a Macedonia you have not yet seen. And even when you cannot see the reason, you can trust the One who is guiding the journey.
Commit thy way
The Old Testament wisdom books have a great deal to say about plans and outcomes. One of the most helpful passages is in Psalm 37, written for people tempted to fret when the wicked seem to prosper:
Trust in the LORD , and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed. Delight thyself also in the LORD ; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. Commit thy way unto the LORD ; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass. And he shall bring forth thy righteousness as the light, and thy judgment as the noonday. Rest in the LORD , and wait patiently for him: fret not thyself because of him who prospereth in his way, because of the man who bringeth wicked devices to pass.
Notice the verbs. Trust. Do good. Delight. Commit. Trust. Rest. Wait. Fret not. Some of these are active: doing good, committing your way. Others are restful: waiting patiently, refusing to fret. Together they describe a life that is engaged but not anxious.
“Commit thy way unto the LORD.” The Hebrew word translated commit literally means to roll. The picture is of rolling a heavy burden off your own back and onto someone strong enough to carry it. You roll your way onto Him. “And he shall bring it to pass.” The bringing to pass is His work.
Proverbs says something similar:
The preparations of the heart in man, and the answer of the tongue, is from the LORD . All the ways of a man are clean in his own eyes; but the LORD weigheth the spirits. Commit thy works unto the LORD , and thy thoughts shall be established.
And a few verses later: “A man’s heart deviseth his way: but the LORD directeth his steps” (Proverbs 16:9). This wisdom does not make planning pointless. You are allowed to devise your way. You should think, prepare and work hard. But your plans live under God’s rule. You hold the pen; He holds the outcome.
James adds a warning against speaking as though the future belonged to us:
Go to now, ye that say, To day or to morrow we will go into such a city, and continue there a year, and buy and sell, and get gain: Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away. For that ye ought to say, If the Lord will, we shall live, and do this, or that.
The businessmen James describes have their plan worked out: the city, the length of stay, the trade, the profit. Nothing in their plan is sinful in itself. What James challenges is the assumption that they own tomorrow. “Ye know not what shall be on the morrow.” Life is a vapour. The right attitude is “If the Lord will, we shall live, and do this, or that.”
James is describing a posture of heart, something deeper than a religious phrase to sprinkle on every sentence. And it actually makes planning better. A person who knows he does not control the future is more willing to receive advice, prepare for contingencies and avoid promising what he cannot guarantee. His plan can be useful without becoming a personal prophecy.
Other people are not outcomes
PunchlineOne of the most important places where control shows itself is in our relationships. Sooner or later, the desire to control outcomes reaches out to control people.
A parent may pray sincerely for a grown child’s choices and still have no right to decide them. A young man may pray about marriage to a particular sister and still have no authority over her answer. A minister may long for an invitation to preach and still have no right to pressure the people making the decision. When we cannot control an outcome by ordinary means, we are often tempted to use spiritual language to do it. God told me you are my wife. The Lord has shown me that you should support this project. If you refuse, you are resisting God. Like Jacob in his father’s tent, we bring God’s name into our manipulation.
That is a serious misuse of faith. God has given other people real freedom, and spiritual language should never be used to override it. Faith can ask boldly without claiming ownership of another person’s response. Father, this is what I hope for. Help me to act honestly and to receive Your answer, whatever it is.
Jesus modelled this beautifully at the end of John’s Gospel. After He had restored Peter and told him how he would one day die, Peter turned round, saw John following, and asked, “Lord, and what shall this man do?” (John 21:21). Jesus answered, “If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee? follow thou me” (John 21:22). In other words: John’s outcome is not yours to manage. Your part is to follow Me.
That sentence can bring great freedom to a controlling heart. Your children, your spouse, your colleagues and your church members are not outcomes for you to secure. They are people for you to love, pray for and serve, while you leave their lives in God’s hands.
Holding your part, releasing the rest
How do we live this out in practice?
Start by separating what belongs to you from what does not. The three men in Daniel could not control the king or the fire. They could control whether they bowed. Paul could not control which roads the Spirit opened. He could control whether he kept travelling and preaching. Ask yourself: what is my actual responsibility in this situation? It may be to prepare thoroughly, to tell the truth, to apologise, to submit the application, to have the hard conversation. Do that, and do it well.
Then name, honestly, what is beyond your reach. The examiner’s decision. The doctor’s findings. Another person’s choice. The timing of a breakthrough. Speak these to the Father one by one and roll them onto Him.
Allow yourself to grieve when things do not go the way you hoped. Trusting God does not require you to call every loss pleasant. You are allowed to be disappointed when an opportunity closes or a relationship ends. Bring that grief into prayer. The Father is not offended by your tears.
Then ask what the next faithful step is. It might be waiting. It might be trying again. It might be a different decision, or seeking counsel. The answer will not always be obvious immediately, but the character of Christ gives you a reliable standard for how to proceed.
And finally, notice the flight trackers in your life, the habits of anxious checking that give you the illusion of control. Refreshing your email every three minutes, calling a person repeatedly for an update they do not have, reading the same symptoms online over and over. These do not keep the plane in the air. Sometimes the most faithful thing you can do is put the phone down.
Esther’s son landed safely in London, and then in Toronto. He sent her a photo from the airport, grinning in a borrowed winter coat. She was so relieved she cried.
But a few weeks later, he called to tell her that the accommodation he had arranged had fallen through, and he did not yet know where he would be living. Esther felt the old panic rising. She wanted to call the university, find the number of every Nigerian family in Toronto, take charge. Her hand was already reaching for the phone.
Instead, she told me, she sat down on the edge of her bed and remembered the night of the yellow aeroplane. She remembered how her watching had not added one metre to its altitude. She thought of three young men saying “But if not,” and of Jesus in the garden saying “nevertheless.” So she prayed. She told the Father plainly what she wanted: a safe, affordable room near the campus, by the end of the week. Then she asked Him what her own part was. It turned out to be small. She sent her son the number of a woman from her church whose cousin lived in Toronto, and she told him she was praying. Then she put her phone in the drawer of her bedside table and left it there until morning.
He found a room four days later, through a classmate. It was not the cousin’s contact. It was not anything Esther had arranged. But she said that was exactly the point. “I did my part,” she told me, “and I let God fly the plane.”
You cannot fly the plane either. You were never meant to. Do your part faithfully, ask Him boldly for what you desire, and then say with the three men, “But if not,” and with your Lord, “nevertheless.” Your Father is in the cockpit, and He has never needed your watching to keep the world in the air.
Teaching Companion
For Reflection
- What “flight tracker” are you currently watching, anxiously trying to hold up an outcome you cannot control?
- Can you recognise a “Rebekah’s kitchen” in your own story, a time when you tried to secure God’s purpose by manipulation or pressure? What did you learn?
- How would your current prayers change if you added the words “But if not” or “nevertheless” after your requests?
- Is there a person in your life whom you have been treating as an outcome to secure rather than someone to love and leave in God’s hands?
- In your present situation, what clearly belongs to you, and what must you release to the Father?
This Week
Take a sheet of paper and write down one situation that is currently making you anxious. Divide the page into two columns. In the first, list everything that is genuinely your responsibility. In the second, list everything that is beyond your control. Do the things in the first column this week, faithfully and well. Each morning, read the second column aloud to the Father and pray Psalm 37:5 over it: “Commit thy way unto the LORD; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass.” And identify one habit of anxious checking that you will lay down for the week.
A Prayer
Father, I confess that I have often tried to control what only You can control. I have watched and refreshed and calculated as if my anxiety could hold up the outcome. I have sometimes pressured people and even used Your name to get what I wanted. Forgive me. Today I bring You my desires plainly, and I place them in Your hands. You are able. And if You choose a different path from the one I would choose, I will still trust You. Give me wisdom for what belongs to me, courage to do it well, and peace to leave the rest with You. Not my will, but Yours be done. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Truth received brings freedom. Truth believed establishes the heart.
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version. · Illustrations using first names only are composites unless stated otherwise.