Have you ever asked someone to do something and then spent so much time checking on it that you might as well have done it yourself?
You delegated.
Technically.
But now you're checking the status, reminding them about the deadline, thinking about what they might forget and mentally preparing to step in if it starts going sideways.
Very relaxing.
And this doesn't only happen at work.
Your kid has something due, but somehow you're the one lying in bed remembering it.
Your husband says he'll handle something and you still keep it running on a little background tab in your brain.
Someone you love is making a decision you wouldn't make, and you can practically feel yourself wanting to reach over and steer.
Because you care.
That's the tricky part.
Control doesn't always look controlling from the inside.
Sometimes it looks like responsibility.
You know what needs to happen. You know you can handle it. You can see the problem coming before everybody else seems to notice it, so why wouldn't you step in?
Sometimes you should.
That's why this isn't as simple as just let go.
There are things that really are ours to own.
Leadership comes with responsibility. Parenting comes with responsibility. Relationships require us to show up. If something belongs to me, calling it “letting go” doesn't magically make neglect wise.
But responsibility has edges.
And some of us are very good at coloring outside them.
We don't just do our part.
We start carrying everybody else's part too.
Then we carry their response to our part.
And the outcome.
And the backup plan in case the outcome isn't what we wanted.
By the end, we've somehow made ourselves responsible for an entire chain of events that includes several other grown human beings with free will.
No wonder we're tired.
This is where the word stewardship has started making more sense to me.
Stewardship asks me to take good care of what's actually been entrusted to me.
That's different from believing I have to control everything connected to it.
If I'm leading someone, I can give clear expectations, support them, follow up appropriately and hold them accountable.
I cannot do their growth for them.
If I'm parenting, I can teach, guide, set boundaries and be present.
I cannot make every choice for my kids forever so they never experience a consequence.
If I care about someone who's struggling, I can love them, pray for them, tell them the truth and show up.
I cannot make them choose what I think is best.
That line is uncomfortable.
Because control gives us the illusion that if we just manage enough variables, we can protect everybody from the outcome we're afraid of.
Stewardship asks us to do what belongs to us and release what doesn't.
That takes trust.
And for me, faith is where this becomes much more than a productivity or leadership idea.
If I believe God is God, then at some point I have to reckon with the fact that I am not.
I know.
Devastating.
I can be faithful without being in control.
I can prepare without predicting every possible problem.
I can care deeply about someone without making myself responsible for every choice they make.
I can do excellent work and still release how every person responds to it.
That doesn't make me careless.
It puts responsibility back where it belongs.
And something else happens when we do that: other people finally have room to carry what belongs to them.
If you always step in before someone struggles, they never find out whether they could've figured it out.
If you always fix the mistake, they don't get to repair it.
If you always anticipate the need, they don't have to learn to notice it.
Sometimes the thing we call helping is actually keeping everyone locked into the roles we've gotten used to playing.
You handle.
They wait.
You remind.
They respond.
You carry.
They let you.
Then everybody gets frustrated with everybody.
Stewardship interrupts that cycle.
It says: Here's what belongs to me. I'm going to do that well.
And then comes the harder part:
I'm going to leave room for you to do yours.
That might mean something gets done differently than you would've done it.
It might take longer.
Someone might even make a mistake you could've prevented.
This is where all my beautiful thoughts about stewardship get significantly less beautiful in practice.
But if the goal is growth—not just control—there has to be room for other people to participate in the outcome.
So when you feel yourself tightening your grip, don't immediately tell yourself to let go.
Ask something more specific:
What actually belongs to me here?
Do that part well.
Then pay attention to everything you're carrying beyond it.
That's usually where control has been hiding.
Want to keep going with this conversation?
🎧 Listen to Episode 45: From Control to Stewardship: A Faith-Filled Shift in How You Live →