Is Your Faith Efficient?

why trusting God feels inefficient when control works so well

🎧 AUDIO: If you want to hear this one out loud, you can listen here.

I love being in control. Being in control is efficient. If you want it done right, do it yourself, I always say.

Trust, like peace, is one of those interruptions to my plans. I’ve got things to do, people to see, places to be, and asking me to give up control is like telling me to let someone else load my dishwasher; they’ll never get it right.

I much prefer, and in fact always operate from a position of control, not just out of comfort, because yes, it is more comfortable, but it’s also more efficient. And I love efficiency. Time is as precious as gold, so why would I waste it?

Control is the part of me that makes sure I get my money’s worth out of time. And that’s being responsible: doing your best with the time you’ve been given. That’s why I manage my life the way your micro-managing boss manages your workflow. I mean, I don’t just manage my life, I hover over it, making sure it’s all getting done the way I want it done. My focus is on the outcome, and the outcome won’t come the way I want it to come if I don’t keep an eye on how it’s coming together.

That’s what makes trust so dangerous. Trust is like letting your three-year-old cut your hair. It’s like giving your teenager the keys to your brand-new car. Trust is not efficient, and it does not guarantee results.

The trouble with trust is that it doesn’t micromanage outcomes. It just lets things move forward without my input, which is crazy when you realize that everything depends on that input. That’s what makes trust inefficient. It doesn’t get things done in the time and way I want them done.

Control is not only practically efficient, but it’s also mentally efficient. If I’m in control, I don’t have to waste any time not knowing, rethinking, or fixing anything later. It takes much less energy for me to just do the things that need to be done than to let go and trust.

So, of course, I move in the direction of control. And control and trust move in opposite directions. If you want control, it’s at the cost of trust. And in a staring match between control and trust, control wins out for me because it’s the path of least resistance; it costs me less. It’s the difference between driving home from the store and driving in a foreign country. My brain naturally wants the easier route.

Trust requires discernment, and discernment takes too much energy. Taking the time to slow down and redirect my thoughts from vigilance and preparation to hope and trust takes tremendous amounts of mental and emotional energy that I just can’t afford.

Control, now control, I can do that without even thinking. It takes low effort, and it gives me fast results with minimal friction. My brain loves that.

My ultimate goal is to minimize error, reduce surprises, maintain control, and manage outcomes. Trust, aka faith, doesn’t give me that. Faith sits in peace without giving me the future that I want, and that makes faith unpredictable and therefore inefficient.

Faith, for a person who loves control, is inefficient. There, I said it.

What’s the Opposite of Procrastination?

I realize that I’m wired for vigilance, and that wiring tells me that, “If I do it right now, I won’t have to worry about it later.” And this efficiency gene gives me a sense of mastery, of competence. It makes me feel capable, responsible, and on top of things. Which I realize now makes me feel morally on top of things. It’s like my efficiency proves my worth, AND determines the outcomes. Winner, winner. That’s the kind of person I want to be.

Trusting God doesn’t point to my mastery or competence. It doesn’t make me feel capable, responsible, or on top of things. It actually feels more like neglect or irresponsibility. Like I should be doing something other than resting, or trusting, that’s just not in my makeup.

I’m starting to think that faith isn’t as efficient as I want it to be, and that’s why control takes its place in my life. I mean, think about it, faith leaves empty space, it allows for delays, it tolerates unresolved outcomes. Trusting God doesn’t necessarily mean anything is going to change, or that results will be what I want them to be.

I prefer efficiency, no, I trust it. It feels responsible in a way that leaving things alone and trusting God never has.

Maybe my saying that makes you uncomfortable, or maybe it makes you feel not so alone, but either way, it’s turning a light on in a very dark room. And I like the lights on. It’s so hard to see without them.

Efficiency only works when the system belongs to you, and I’m starting to realize I’ve been applying it to things that don’t, like outcomes, timing, other people, the future. I’m not just being efficient. I’m taking responsibility for things that were never assigned to me.

No wonder faith feels inefficient. It keeps handing those things back. It leaves space where I’ve been filling it, and it removes the job I’ve been calling responsibility.

I’m starting to wonder if faith doesn’t feel less efficient simply because it doesn’t let me stay in charge.