From Control to Faith
When God began creating, He took darkness and turned it to light.
Void turned to matter. Air, water, stars, moons, expanses hummed to His
tune. But He longed for more. He longed for an image bearer who would be
a reflection of Him. God longed for the intimacy of a Creator and the
created. So He formed man and breathed the breath of life into him.
You'd
think that would've been enough, but God still had one final gesture of
love. A last bit of chocolate frosting to put on the cake, a polished
gem to crown His jewelry box of creation. That gem was woman. Like a
painting with perfect hues, so is the masterpiece of man and woman.
Adam's
and Eve's lives consisted of relishing the fruit of God's creation, a
romance with mates who gazed only at each other and an exclusive
engagement with their Creator — their God. Nothing should've competed
with this kind of glory ... but it did. We hear it called the fall of
man, but I'd like to rename it the devastation of woman.
Most of
the women I know don't feel like special icing on a cake or a gem in a
jewelry box. I've asked around, and most women see themselves as tired,
worn-out, used up, undisciplined in some areas and overly disciplined in
others, unsexy, isolated, and insecure. A far cry from the image of
womanhood described in the language of Genesis.
The fact that Eve
was approached by Satan isn't surprising; after all, we're the trusting
type. Eager to please and make daddy proud. The serpent was no dummy as
he went straight for the woman's jugular with his rancid deception.
Now
the serpent was the most cunning of all the wild animals that the Lord
God had made. He said to the woman, "Did God really say, ‘You can't eat
from any tree in the garden'?"
The woman said to the serpent, "We
may eat the fruit from the trees in the garden. But about the fruit of
the tree in the middle of the garden, God said, ‘You must not eat it or
touch it, or you will die."
"No! You will not die," the serpent
said to the woman. "In fact, God knows that when you eat it your eyes
will be opened and you will be like God, knowing good and evil."
Then
the woman saw that the tree was good for food and delightful to look
at, and that it was desirable for obtaining wisdom. So she took some of
its fruit and ate it; she also gave some to her husband, who was with
her, and he ate it (Genesis 3:1-6).
Up to this point, Eve's
longings and desires matched her life. Loving husband, physical needs
cared for, physical appearance appreciated and enjoyed, and a communion
with her Creator that was vibrant and real.
But Satan targeted the jugular to get Eve's attention: Yes, it does get better than that. God is holding out on you.
Eve
acknowledged the one protective rule that God laid over their lives:
Don't mess with the tree in the middle of the garden. It's got a
knowledge to it that will shred the heart.
She knew it meant
death — the death of innocence — and Satan pounced on her knowledge with
a lie so handsomely deceitful it sounded right. You surely won't die!
God knows you'll be more like Him if you eat from this tree — and that's
a good thing.
What happens next is both fascinating and
heartbreaking because it defines the way women embrace life to this day.
After she ate the fruit, she took it upon herself to convince her
husband that he needed to follow her.
The Bible doesn't give a
time frame for how long it took Eve to get Adam to eat from the same
tree, but I have a hunch it may not have been immediate. I think she
wore him down, nagging him relentlessly.
I'm smiling as a I write
this because I can think of countless times I've figured out how to get
my way with my husband, Bobby, and still make him think he's the man!
Because I'm a strong-willed, independent, mustang type of woman, reining
me in has always been a bit of a challenge. I'm usually most pliable
after I've run myself into a two-by-four trying to create the world
according to me, and then maybe I'll allow the protective arms my
husband to wrap around me like a quilt. Prior to "the devastation of
woman," the word control had never been uttered. Now it's screaming from
the treetops.
Adam did the most dangerous thing imaginable. In
the midst of the crying and convincing, he kept silent. He didn't
protect or fight for Eve; he just went limp ... and all hell quietly
broke loose. Their initial experience of living and loving in a Spirit
hunger relationship with God was shattered.
Signs of Control
Adam
wasn't born a baby. His needs were covered in terms of sleep, food,
warmth, and fellowship with his Father. But God longed to nurture Adam
in a more intimate way by giving him Eve. Unfortunately, Adam chose
silence, and Eve chose control. The more a man is silent, the more a
woman pushes for control. It's a vicious cycle that can beat itself raw.
I've
spent many years believing I wasn't the controlling type, only to
discover that to some degree, we all are. My friend Cindy said it
perfectly: "Women are either controlling or being controlled." Control
is a thorn that continues to pierce our hearts, and it's the wise woman
who tackles the issue with the force of a linebacker.
What does a
controlling woman look like? If you think she looks like a drill
sergeant with a whip, think again. Sometimes she looks like an angel
with a spatula, light pink lip-gloss, and sweet words laced with sour
intent. Consider these characteristics of a controlling woman:
- Won't
let anyone help in the kitchen or around the house but complains that
if she doesn't do the chores, they won't be done right;
- Uses
nagging as a tool because if she doesn't "remind" her kids, husband, or
co-workers to do certain things, they will never budge;
- Claims she wants a strong husband who leads but shatters him with her words, criticism, or silence when he tries to;
- Continues
to do things like waking up her older kids in the morning instead of
asking them to set an alarm because she knows if she doesn't awaken
them, they will sleep through class (my son tells me about a mom who
still calls her college-aged son to wake him up daily).
Though
I never viewed control as one of my stark issues, I've come to realize
that my controlling nature is just snuggled in a cozier blanket than the
ones others own. My words are sweeter but can still pack a punch.
Counterfeit of Love
I'll
never forget the day I faced the dragon of control like a princess with
a toothpick for a weapon. Our infant son was strapped in the back seat
of our minivan as I pulled up to the elementary school to pick up our
first-grade daughter, Brooke, and our kindergarten lamb, Ally. Brooke
was always social, flitting here and there with a lot of play dates and
invites. But Ally was different. She was shy and timid. When Ally was in
preschool, Bobby and I had a half-hour ritual just to drop her off for
an hour-and-a-half class.
This was a big day for Ally, as she had
finally felt comfortable enough to invite a friend over to play. They
came tumbling out of the school and spotted me waving like crazy from
our van. Brooke piled in first, then Ally and her little buddy, along
with the two kids we took turns carpooling with. Little Suzanne from the
carpool crew was famous for being bossy, so it wasn't surprising to
hear her bark out a command: "Come over to my house! I don't have anyone
to play with. Or ... hey, can I play with you guys?"
Without even
a consulting glance at Ally, I invited bossy Suzanne to join Ally and
her buddy for the afternoon. No amount of brownies or Kool-Aid could
salvage that play date. After the lambs left our home and Ally and I had
a moment together sitting on the wooden stairs of our home, I asked her
if she had a good time. "It wasn't really that fun, Mommy," she sighed.
She didn't cry, but suddenly I began to sob like a dam had been
breached. As I tried to gain composure so I could explain to my
5-year-old what I was feeling, I uttered an apology that welled up from
the deepest place in my soul.
"Sweetie, Mommy needs to ask you to
forgive me. I had no right to invite someone else to your special time
with your friend. I was just trying to make everyone happy, and instead I
made you unhappy." With curled fingers and puckered lips Ally kissed
the tears on my face and told me it was OK, but I've never forgotten
this lesson — that sometimes good women who try to control everyone's
happiness and moods end up the unhappiest of all.
Control is the
ultimate counterfeit of love. It's the secret adulteress to good intent.
Like a robber who's been hiding in a dark closet, control ambushes us.
It gags us and then surveys what it can take from our lives without our
ever realizing what's happened.
At times I wonder if I'll ever
stop having to pull the gag off my mouth. Will my longings and my need
to control shift from a roar to a quiet whimper? I've wrestled with this
question for years and fleshed out my thinking in the safe retreat of
countless notebook pages on which my mental meanderings are visible only
to God. It's here that I've rehearsed the longings we all crave: a
longing to be nurtured; a longing for intimacy, purpose, and discipline;
and — the pinnacle of all longing — the longing to be treasured.
Curled
up around these longings lay a brood of substitutes. The substitutes
replace the true longings. Nurture turns to control. Intimacy pushes
back as distrust. Purpose cools to bland insecurity. Discipline slows to
laziness. And being treasured changes into being trampled or ignored.
Longings
that languish in the "self mode" typically end in fear and control,
while longings that bend toward God turn to faith. When we determine to
understand our Spirit hunger, to hold out so that our real longings are
filled by a real God, our lives will look different. We move from having
an insatiable need for control to a desperate need for faith.
This article is courtesy of HomeLife Magazine.
Gari Meacham is a writer, speaker, and
Bible teacher. Gari and her husband, Bobby, have three children and two
grandchildren. They currently reside in Houston and are members of
Second Baptist Church of Houston.
Flaps down
