Trusting God When You’d Rather Drive

Last week I was invited to ride with another coach to an overnight women’s conference that was over two hours away, Friday to Saturday.

Everything in me screamed, “NO! I hate not having my car!”

If I’m honest, I like autonomy. I like choosing the music. I like stopping when I want. I like knowing I can leave whenever I’m ready. I like control.

But as I examined my juvenile reaction (yes, juvenile), I paused. What if this wasn’t just about a car? What if the Lord was inviting me into something deeper?

So instead of reacting, I bought myself time and prayed.

And I sensed Him whisper:

“You don’t have control over the changes in your job.
You don’t have control over the changes in your church.
Get in the passenger seat.
Let someone else take the wheel.”

The message was clear. Say YES.

It felt like an invitation to surrender control — something I talk about often with the Christian women I coach as they learn stewardship of time, boundaries, and Kingdom calling. Apparently, I needed the lesson too.

So I said yes. And I reminded myself of something I’ve been whispering all month as I started donating plasma:

I can do hard things.

When the Lesson Repeats Itself

On the day I was leaving, another friend emailed me. She invited me to stay overnight at her friend’s house during an upcoming retreat — ride with her friend there, ride back with her friend, maybe even connect with a woman I’d met at a recent event.

I laughed.

“Lord, what are You doing?”

I told my husband he wouldn’t believe I was getting another invitation to stay overnight and ride with someone else.

Coincidence? I don’t think so.

When the same invitation comes twice, it’s usually not random. It’s refinement.

My husband, in his steady wisdom, hugged me and said, “One thing at a time, Sweetie. Go to the conference today. Get back to your friend on Monday.”

The Passenger Seat Was a Gift

Fast forward to the other side of the weekend.

The ride with my new friend? The highlight of my weekend.

We connected in a way that never would have happened if I had driven alone in my bubble of productivity and podcasts. I would have missed the gift of shared stories, laughter, and unexpected encouragement.

I would have missed the magic.

Proverbs 16:9 says,

“In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.”

I had planned my independence. God established connection.

A Liturgical Audit

On Monday morning, I woke up thinking about a liturgical audit — something I first heard Pastor John Mark Comer talk about. It’s a spiritual practice of examining the rhythms and routines of our daily lives and asking:

Why do I do it this way?

What story am I absorbing?

What habits are forming me?

Romans 12:2 reminds us:

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.”

A liturgical audit is simply paying attention to the patterns forming us.

One example I heard compared commuting choices.

If I drive myself two hours, I control everything — the music, the stops, the silence. I absorb a story of autonomy and isolation. Just the way I like it.

But if I ride the bus for two hours, I give up control. I operate on someone else’s schedule. I engage with strangers. I enter stories outside my own.

One choice reinforces independence.
The other cultivates humility and openness.

Given my recent invitations, this felt like yet another nudge from the Lord:

Get on the bus.  Let go of control.

The Poem That Sealed It

That same morning, I had a Zoom call with a longtime producer friend. When I shared I had pretty much retired from film production, he told me he wanted to send me a poem.

The next morning at 8:00am, it arrived in my inbox.

NIRVANA by Charles Bukowski

Not much chance,

Completely cut loose from purpose,

He was a young man riding a bus Through North Carolina on the way to somewhere,

And it began to snow,

And the bus stopped at a little cafe in the hills,

And the passengers entered.

He sat at the counter with the others,

He ordered, and the food arrived.

The meal was particularly good,

And the coffee.

The waitress was unlike the women he had known.

She was unaffected; there was a natural humor which came from her.

The fry cook said crazy things, the dishwasher in the back

Laughed, a good, clean, pleasant laugh.

The young man watched the snow through the windows.

He wanted to stay in that cafe forever.

The curious feeling swam through him

That everything was beautiful there, that it would always stay beautiful there.

Then the bus driver told the passengers that it was time to board.

The young man thought, "I'll just sit here, I'll just stay here."

But then he rose and followed the others into the bus.

He found his seat and looked at the cafe through the bus window.

Then the bus moved off, down a curve, downward, out of the hills.

The young man looked straight forward.

He heard the other passengers speaking of other things,

Or they were reading or attempting to sleep.

They had not noticed the magic.

The young man put his head to one side, closed his eyes, pretended to sleep.

There was nothing else to do—just to listen to the sound of the engine,

The sound of the tires in the snow.

Sweet Surrender

When I read that poem, I felt convicted for a fourth time.

The young man noticed the magic. The others didn’t.

He didn’t control the snow.
He didn’t control the stop.
He didn’t control the timing.

He just got on the bus.

Ecclesiastes 3:11 says:

“He has made everything beautiful in its time.”

Maybe surrendering control is not about losing something.
Maybe it’s about positioning ourselves to notice the beauty God places along the way.

As Christian women, especially those of us who are leaders, entrepreneurs, or ministry-minded, we can become highly skilled at driving our own lives. We steward our time, build boundaries, manage finances, and pursue our Kingdom calling with intention.

But sometimes stewardship looks less like gripping the wheel and more like sitting in the passenger seat.

Sometimes spiritual growth looks like saying yes to discomfort.

Sometimes the liturgical audit reveals that our routines are forming us into self-reliant women when God is inviting us into surrendered daughters.

Proverbs 3:5–6 reminds us:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.”

This season feels like an invitation to submit in small, ordinary ways.

Ride with someone else.
Stay in someone else’s home.
Give up control of the schedule.

Notice the magic.

I guess the Lord is telling me to just get on the bus.

And maybe He’s telling you the same.