One of the most incredible aspects of being human is that each of us has been blessed with a rational mind and unique talents.
Over the millennia, we have used those gifts to solve countless problems. Through science, technology, medicine, law, commerce, and innovation, humanity has continuously improved the world around us. We have helped one another grow, and together we have built the modern world we know today.
Yet somewhere along the way, our natural problem-solving abilities seem to have evolved into something more demanding.
We have become obsessed with solving everything.
Not only the genuine problems that confront us, but often hypothetical problems, future problems, and sometimes even problems we unintentionally create for ourselves. We spend enormous amounts of energy attempting to anticipate every possible outcome, prepare for every contingency, and eliminate every uncertainty.
Career. Finances. Family. Health. Retirement. Future plans.
Many of us spend our lives trying to control every variable.
It is exhausting.
The illusion begins to crumble whenever life reminds us that some things are simply beyond our control.
Consider an unexpected job loss during an economic recession.
For a typical middle-class family with children, a mortgage, rising food and fuel costs, increasing taxes, and limited savings, the loss of even one income can feel catastrophic. We can wrestle with spreadsheets, budgets, and financial projections until our faces turn blue, but mathematics has its limits. A dollar can only stretch so far.
What keeps us awake at night is often not the numbers themselves.
It is the loss of control.
That feeling intensifies when we begin the job search.
We submit application after application. We carefully tailor resumes and cover letters to match job descriptions. We attempt to satisfy automated screening systems and applicant-tracking algorithms that may reject our application before a human being ever sees it.
Once again, we encounter forces beyond our control.
After enough applications, interviews, and rejections, fear begins to creep in.
Will I ever find another opportunity?
Will I recover financially?
Will I regain control of my life?
At this point, many people find themselves on one of two paths…
Some turn to loved ones for support. The encouragement, compassion, and reassurance are deeply appreciated. Parents, spouses, children, and friends often say exactly what we need to hear.
Yet somehow the relief remains elusive.
Until we regain our sense of control, even the most loving words can feel strangely insufficient.
Others retreat inward.
Consumed by fear, guilt, and shame, they isolate themselves from the very people who care about them most. Thoughts begin to spiral:
I’m a failure.
I’m a loser.
I can’t see a way forward.
Financial hardship makes professional counselling difficult to access. The darkness deepens. In the worst moments, some begin believing the most evil lie – that their family would somehow be better off without them.
I think one of the greatest sources of suffering in situations like these comes from confusing responsibility with control.
Responsibility and control are not the same thing.
Responsibility is ours.
Control belongs to God.
I am responsible for updating my resume.
I am responsible for applying for jobs.
I am responsible for learning new skills, preparing for interviews, and continuing to show up each day.
But I cannot control whether a company hires me.
I cannot control the economy.
I cannot control the decisions of recruiters, hiring managers, or automated systems.
I cannot control the future.
For years, I carried both burdens.
I believed that if I worked hard enough, planned carefully enough, and solved enough problems, I could engineer my future into existence. The result was not peace. It was anxiety.
Christianity introduced me to a radically different way of living.
The most valuable lesson my faith has taught me is that heavy burdens were never meant to be carried alone.
During my RCIA journey, I encountered these words from Jesus at precisely the moment I needed them most:
Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.
For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.
Matthew 11:28-30
For the first time, I understood surrender not as weakness, but as trust.
Surrender does not mean giving up.
It does not mean becoming passive.
It does not mean abandoning responsibility.
Rather, surrender means doing faithfully what is ours to do while entrusting the outcome to God.
When I surrendered, I was reminded of moments from childhood when I struggled with difficult school projects. After exhausting every idea I had, I would eventually turn to my parents for help. They didn’t do the work for me. Instead, they guided me through the obstacle and helped me find a path forward.
The challenges of adulthood are obviously far more complex than elementary school science projects.
But the principle remains.
We are not meant to navigate every burden alone.
RCIA also taught me the value of prayer.
Sometimes that means praying the Rosary.
Sometimes it means praying a novena.
Sometimes it is just a simple heart-to-heart conversation with Jesus while driving to work, washing dishes, or lying awake at night staring at the ceiling.
Over time, I discovered something surprising.
The circumstances did not always change immediately.
The uncertainty did not instantly disappear.
But the crushing weight of carrying the future on my own shoulders began to lift.
I stopped demanding certainty.
I stopped trying to control every outcome.
And in that surrender, I found peace.
I spent years trying to engineer my future.
Faith taught me that trust is not the absence of effort.
Trust is the willingness to let God be God.
† Glória Patri, et Fílio, et Spirítui Sancto. Sicut erat in princípio, et nunc, et semper, et in saécula saeculórum. Amen. †