You Control the Car

I failed as a dad.   At least, that’s how it felt in the moment.   My family and I had just spent nine incredible days in Costa Rica—half in the rainforest, half at the beach. It was one of those trips you hope becomes a core memory. My wife planned the entire thing, and she crushed it. Seriously, she should be a travel agent. My job was simple: show up, drive, and enjoy the ride.   That last part—drive—was harder than expected.   Costa Rican roads are not for the faint of heart. Curves everywhere. Narrow lanes. Horses with riders coming straight at you. At one point, I went through what looked like a cut through alley, which was really a Taco Bell drive‑through. After ninety minutes of white‑knuckle driving, I realized something uncomfortable.   My stress was making everyone else uncomfortable.   Failure #1: Letting Stress Lead In my best “fake college professor” voice, I kept thinking, “THIS IS NOT GOOD. IT IS NOT GOOD.” And it wasn’t.   I let my internal stress leak outward. I wasn’t calm. I wasn’t reassuring. I wasn’t leading. I was surviving—and my family felt it.   We made it through the nine-day adventure, and now it was time to return home. We arrived at the airport two and a half hours early, only to find one airline employee trying to check in at least fifty people. Two lines. One being served. Priority status only.   This is where I made my second mistake.   Failure #2: Being Passive Instead of Leading I stood there. For forty minutes.   I trusted the system even though I could clearly see it was broken. I didn’t step up. I didn’t provide direction. I didn’t cast vision for what we needed to do next.   I was passive.   As leaders—at work or at home—passivity is rarely neutral. It usually costs someone something.   We finally got through TSA, and internally, I was spiraling. Why didn’t you get your family here three hours early? Because the last time I did that (in Chicago), we flew through everything and waited forever.   But this wasn’t Chicago.   This was Costa Rica—and I should have known that.   I stayed quiet, but inside I was convinced we were going to miss our flight because of my poor leadership. I wanted everyone to be happy rather than make a clear, intelligent, strategic decision.   By God’s grace, we made it through with about 20 minutes to spare.   A Brief Moment of Confidence… Then Another Crash My college-aged daughter heard a gate change announcement. I decided I was done being passive.   I asked the gate agent, “Is this flight going to Chicago?” “Yes, sir.”   I asked a man we met in the TSA line, “Is this the Chicago flight?” “Yep.”   I nodded confidently to my family. I’ve got this.   Then I went to get food. Big mistake.   I ordered $80 worth of sandwiches at the only restaurant in the terminal—packed with people—and quickly realized they were serving numbers twenty-five orders ahead of mine.   Then my wife called.   “I think our gate is wrong.”   No way. I had checked. Twice.   I saw the man from the TSA line and asked one simple question that crushed me:   “Are you flying American… or United?”   He replied with “We are on American.”   My stomach sank knowing my family was flying on United.   How could I be so dumb?!   Wrong gate.   Wrong airline.   Total failure (again).   The Lowest Moment—and an Unexpected Gift My wife called again. “Hurry. They’re boarding.”   I abandoned the food, boarded the plane, and felt completely defeated. To make it worse, halfway through the flight, my 10-year-old son started feeling sick—he was so hungry.   I ordered him a snack meal, knowing it was way too little food for $10, but I had no choice.   The flight attendant listened, showed kindness, and gave it to us for free.   Grace.   My son ate. His energy came back. We landed in Chicago. My wife said, “Let’s order deep-dish pizza.”   I ordered two.   The family devoured it.   And finally, I felt like a good leader again.   What I Learned My family never brought up my mistakes. They loved me anyway.   I’m blessed with a family that gives grace. I’m blessed with a God who gives mercy when I mess up.   I share this story because leadership is hard—especially when everyone is watching. And when things go sideways, it’s easy to believe you’re the only one failing.   You’re not. Takeaways Your stress becomes the team’s stress. If you don’t manage what’s happening inside you, it will show up in everyone else. Passivity is still a leadership decision—and usually the wrong one. Seeing a broken system and doing nothing is costly. People don’t need perfection—they need presence and clarity. Confidence, direction, and calm matter more than flawless execution. Grace often shows up after failure. Sometimes through people. Sometimes through unexpected kindness. Always when we’re humble enough to receive it. Action Points Pause before reacting. When stress spikes, slow down. Breathe. Your response sets the tone. Lead with clarity, not approval. Don’t aim to make everyone happy—aim to make wise, timely decisions. Ask better questions sooner. A simple clarifying question can prevent a big mistake. Reflect, don’t retreat. Learn from the miss. Don’t let shame steal the lesson. Extend yourself grace—and keep growing. Leadership is a journey, not a performance. I do Impact of Leadership because I want leaders to know they’re not alone. Stay calm. Lead courageously. Learn from your mistakes. And keep going.   Author: Patrick Booth

  There are seasons in life when it feels like you’re standing in the middle of a rope—hands clenched, feet dug in, muscles tense—being pulled in two opposite directions. On one end: control, pride, fear, anger, self‑reliance. On the other: surrender, trust, humility, grace, faith. And every day, whether we admit it or not, we step into the game. We tell ourselves that holding tighter will keep things from falling apart. But in relationships—at home and at work—gripping the rope often shifts the goal from saving the relationship to winning the moment. That’s how love turns into leverage and partnership turns into pressure.   The Weight of Control   Control feels powerful at first. It whispers: “I’ve got this.” “No one else will do it right.” “If I let go, everything will fall apart.” But control is exhausting. It turns conversations into competitions and collaboration into compliance. Over time, the very people you want to protect end up on the opposite end of the rope, bracing against you. Marriages become standoffs. Kids retreat. Teams disengage. You start to “win” arguments while losing connection, trust, and peace. The hard truth is this: winning while losing your peace, your family, and your integrity isn’t winning at all.   The Lie We Believe   Many of us—especially leaders—are taught that winning is everything: win the argument, win the deal, win the outcome. So we pull harder. We justify harsh words because “the truth needed to be said.” We excuse anger because “stress made me do it.” We defend behavior because “they deserved it.” But most conflicts aren’t about truth; they’re about ego. Pride masquerades as conviction. Scripture cuts through the fog: “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble” (James 4:6). If God stands against pride, there’s no version of “winning” through pride that doesn’t end in loss.   The Moment the Rope Reveals You   Every tug‑of‑war has a breaking point. Sometimes it looks like silence at the dinner table, a child pulling away, a marriage hanging by a thread, or a mirror that reflects someone you swore you’d never become. That’s the moment the rope stops being external and becomes internal. You see the real fight isn’t against your spouse, your child, or your team—it’s the war inside you. Control promises safety; pride promises strength. But both leave you isolated and tired. Surrender, by contrast, sounds like weakness—and turns out to be the beginning of real strength.   What Surrender Actually Is (and Isn’t)   Surrender does not mean giving up, becoming passive, or silencing your voice. Surrender is choosing to drop the rope—releasing the demand to be right, to control outcomes, to carry everything alone. It sounds like: “I don’t have to be right to be at peace.” “I don’t have to control outcomes to be secure.” “I don’t have to carry this alone.” Biblically, surrender looks like humility: “In humility value others above yourselves” (Philippians 2:3) and “Humble yourselves… under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time” (1 Peter 5:6–7). The paradox is stunning: when you stop pulling, tension leaves the room and trust reenters.   What Happens When You Humble Yourself   When you choose humility over pride, several things change—often quickly: Defensiveness drops; curiosity rises. You start asking questions instead of delivering verdicts (Proverbs 18:13). Tone softens; hearts open. “A gentle answer turns away wrath” (Proverbs 15:1). Empathy grows. You see the person across from you as a whole person, not a problem to solve (Colossians 3:12–14). God’s grace meets you. “He gives grace to the humble” (James 4:6). Grace is not just pardon; it’s power to change. Peace returns. Not because circumstances are perfect, but because you’re no longer trying to be God in your own life (Matthew 11:28–29).   Your situation may still be complicated, but your heart is no longer at war.   Leadership in the Middle of the Rope   You cannot lead well when you’re constantly pulling. Leadership fueled by control creates fear. Leadership fueled by surrender creates trust. The best leaders aren’t the ones who pull the hardest; they’re the ones humble enough to say, “I need help. I was wrong. Let’s do this together.” You can only give what you have—and when your hands are clenched around the rope, you have nothing left to give but tension. Healthy teams and families are built on secure leaders, not controlling ones.   When to Fight for Your Beliefs—and When to Compromise   Choosing not to play tug of war doesn’t mean you abandon convictions. Some hills are worth defending:   Fight (with love and integrity) when: Conscience is at stake. When a decision violates your faith or moral clarity (Acts 5:29; Ephesians 6:13). Someone’s dignity or safety is threatened. When silence would enable harm (Proverbs 31:8–9). Integrity and truth are on the line. When deception or injustice requires a clear stand (Micah 6:8). Even then, fight like a follower of Christ—with gentleness, self‑control, and a willingness to suffer without sin (1 Peter 3:15–16; Galatians 5:22–23).   Compromise (or collaborate) when: It’s about preferences, not principles (style, timing, methods). Multiple good options exist and unity matters more than “my way” (Romans 14:19). You need new information or the other person needs to feel heard before progress can be made (James 1:19). A helpful test: If the disagreement is about pride, control, or image—compromise. If it’s about conscience, justice, or truth—stand, but stand like Jesus.   The Question That Changes Everything   So here’s the real question—not just for leaders, but for all of us: What rope are you still holding onto? Is it the need to win? The need to be right? The need to control outcomes, people, or perceptions? A pattern passed down through generations that you promised would stop with you? You don’t end the tug of war by pulling harder. You end it by letting go.   Action Items: How to Drop the Rope This Week   Practice a 90‑Second Pause. Before you respond, breathe and pray: “Lord, show me if I’m protecting my pride or this relationship.” If it’s pride, table the debate and ask one clarifying question instead (James 1:19). Listen to Understand, Not to Win. Use this prompt: “What I’m hearing you say is ___. Did I get that right?” Reflect back feelings as well as facts (Proverbs 20:5). Swap Weapons for Words of Peace. Replace “always/never/you should” with “I feel/When X happens/I need.” Keep your volume low and your face soft (Proverbs 15:1). Choose a Small Surrender Daily. Pick one control behavior to lay down (interrupting, over‑explaining, micromanaging). Tell your spouse or teammate which one you’re practicing today and invite accountability (James 5:16). Schedule Repair, Not Just Resolution. If you’ve pulled hard recently, own it without excuses: “I was wrong. I elevated winning over our relationship. Will you forgive me?” Then ask, “What would help rebuild trust?” (Matthew 5:23–24). Create a Shared Win. For recurring conflicts, define a win you both want: “What outcome honors both of us and the relationship?” Brainstorm three paths; pick one to try for a week and debrief together (Romans 12:18). Stay Rooted Spiritually. Start the day on your knees with hands open: “God, I surrender my pride and plans. Lead me.” Read a short passage (Philippians 2:1–11; Colossians 3:12–15) and carry one verse into your day. Reinforce with Community. Invite a trusted friend or mentor to ask you weekly: “Did you drop the rope?” Share one win and one do‑over. Growth accelerates with honest community (Hebrews 10:24–25).   Takeaway: Peace Over Pride   Peace doesn’t come from overpowering life. Joy doesn’t come from control. Peace comes from trust—trust in God, and trust cultivated through humility with people. “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone” (Romans 12:18). The world will tell you to pull harder. Scripture invites you to drop the rope. On the other side of release is a different kind of strength—one that restores relationships, renews purpose, and finally allows you to breathe again.   You don’t save a relationship by proving you’re right. You save it by choosing love over pride, truth with gentleness over winning with force, and surrender over control. When you humble yourself, grace flows, trust returns, and God lifts you in due time (1 Peter 5:6–7). There’s a better way to lead, to parent, to love: not by winning the war—but by ending it.