From Control to Faith

by Gari Meacham on Thursday, May 09, 2013

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.