grace given me

My daughter was recently in town, and one of our favorite things to do together is wander through bookshops. A new one has just opened near us, so naturally it moved to the top of our list. We love slow browsing the hardcovers and paperbacks that remind us where we’ve been and invite us into where we might go.

As we walked in, I couldn’t miss the wall dedicated to Mel Robbins’ latest book, The Let Them Theory. By now, you’ve probably heard of it. The premise is simple and compelling: if you’ve ever felt stuck trying to control other people’s actions—or repeatedly stressed about things you cannot change—this book invites you to stop trying to control everything and everyone around you. That, in itself, is a good thing.

The more you try to control how others behave, the more anxious and exhausted you become. I agree. It guides readers to focus on what they can control: themselves. Shift your focus from managing others to managing your own responses, and you create peace within. And that’s where I begin to diverge.

Because while I am a Mel Robbins fan and genuinely appreciate the heart behind this message, I find myself asking: to what extent can we control ourselves? Have you ever, like me, felt your resolve unravel under pressure? More often than not, I have good intentions. I tell myself I will respond calmly, release expectations, let others make their own choices. And yet, I fall back into old habits. Old wounds resurface. Fears whisper. My reactions betray the very peace I set out to create.

The Let Them Theory dives into a myriad of reasons why we try to control:

We fear rejection and abandonment. Our ego convinces us we know best. We crave predictability and attempt to steer outcomes. We operate under the illusion of influence, believing we have more power than we do. And beneath it all, we seek validation, assuming control will make us feel loved, safe, worthy.

As I listened to this book, I loved its practicality. And yet, I found myself wanting to whisper back: you’re missing the most important element. Yes, stop trying to control — but surrender it to Jesus. We were never meant to carry this on our own. We cannot white-knuckle our way into peace or self-discipline ourselves into freedom from fear. Scripture reminds us: “Apart from Me you can do nothing” (John 15:5). The effort to manage ourselves without God eventually becomes just another exhausting self-improvement project.

Jesus offers something better than self-management.

When we trust him, he helps us release control—not because we’ve mastered our emotions, but because we trust his ways and his plans. Proverbs 3:5–6 tells 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.” Control loosens its grip when trust takes its place. 

As we fix our eyes on Jesus, he replaces our fear of rejection with the assurance that he will never leave nor forsake us (Hebrews 13:5). We no longer grasp for approval when we are already secure in his presence. 

Our inner ego quiets when we remember we are not the Creator. Isaiah 55:8 reminds us, “‘For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways,’ declares the Lord.” There is deep humility—and relief—in realizing we do not have to be sovereign.

Our desire for predictability softens when we believe that he is good and our future is secure. Jeremiah 29:11 assures us that his plans are for our welfare and hope. Romans 8:28 promises that he works all things together for good for those who love him.

Even our need for validation is transformed. When our identity is rooted in Christ, we need not strive to be loved—we are already fully loved. “See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!” (1 John 3:1). Secure in that identity, we can allow others to disagree, to grow at their own pace, to make their own choices. We can want the best for someone without demanding they get there our way.

The Let Them Theory says: let them. 

The Let Him Theory says: let him.

Let him secure what you have been trying to secure yourself.
Let him define your worth.
Let him guard your heart.
Let him write the story.

And when we do, the peace we experience will surpass not just the counsel of a good book—but “surpass all understanding” (Philippians 4:7).

Lord, thank you for your wisdom. You are better than any self-help strategy because you are all-knowing and our ever-present help in trouble. You love us more than we can ever know. Right now, I receive your love. I pray that as readers pause here, they will do the same. That they would push back against the resistance that whispers they are not worthy—or that they do not need you. That they would let themselves be loved by you. Thank you for meeting each of us right where we are. Amen.