How a Broken Mirror Broke My Illusion of Control

I recently wrote about why letting go of control and giving it to God is difficult. I wrote that piece to explore the connection between our understanding of God’s character and our ability to trust him. The more we trust, the more we can surrender control of our lives to him. I stand by that perspective.

But in another sense, we would be wrong to say that we’re giving God control. He already has it.

Coming out of the pandemic, one idea I’ve heard about from Christians and non-Christians is that we’re not as in control as we once thought.

The pandemic didn’t take away control of our lives. It certainly felt that way, but really, it only revealed what had been true all along—that we live with an illusion of control.

I didn’t think I needed another reminder, other than the pandemic, that God is the only one who is sovereign over all things, but he often teaches me lessons with repetition. And so this is what happened one sunny afternoon.

That time I crashed into a garbage can

The freshly paved two-lane road narrowed as it turned. A pickup truck driving the opposite direction drew nearer, and I eased my car toward the shoulder to allow enough space for our vehicles to pass. 

My preschooler had stayed home sick that day, so he was with me as I drove to pick up my daughter from school. I wore a mask because I was recovering from Covid, and my thoughts were stuck on an email I received earlier in the day.

From the back seat four-year-old Micah asked me a question and then raised his voice to repeat it as I emerged from my thoughts and tried to focus on his words. 

Pow!

Did a bird fly into my car? Did someone shoot at me? Something broke. I hit something. 

Glancing to the right, I saw my side mirror folded in toward the car like a broken wing. The missing glass exposed internal mechanisms dangling by wires.

Micah was asking more questions immediately. Preschoolers can creatively ask “what happened?” in at least twenty different ways and three different languages. 

I attempted a response to clarify to him, and to myself, what went wrong.

I didn’t set out with the intention of plowing into a garbage can. This particular activity wouldn’t have made my to-do list for that day or for any day.

I felt in control of the car, but the evidence of my broken mirror proved otherwise.

The broken illusion reveals who has control

When I returned home and recounted the events to my husband, Josh responded with a sense of relief. “I’m glad you didn’t run into the ditch or get hurt. It’s just a mirror.”

He was using his glass-half-full lens.

I had fumed that someone set their garbage can too close to the road, but maybe it was my saving grace.

Like a destructive rumble strip, it stood between my car and a ditch, a mailbox, and I’m not even sure what else. 

I’m not in control of half as much as I’d like to think, and God is in control of vastly more than I can imagine. My broken mirror now reminds me daily.

When you realize you’re not as in control as you once thought, how do you feel? Anxious? Fearful? Glad? I’d love to hear in the comments!