This morning, my family and I watched more than seventy people get baptized.

One by one, they shared the story that had brought them there.

I expected to hear seventy different stories.

I did.

And I didn’t.

A single father. A retiree. A college student. A veteran. A wife and mother. A business executive. A Ukrainian refugee.

Every story was unique.

Yet beneath the details, every one of them eventually arrived at the same uncomfortable realization.

Life wasn’t responding to their attempts to control it.

For some, it was fear that had settled in and quietly unpacked its bags. For others, anxiety had become such a constant companion that they had forgotten what life felt like without it. Some had spent decades looking for peace and purpose in relationships, achievement, money, success, or simply keeping themselves busy enough to avoid the harder questions.

Every story took a different road.

Every road seemed to arrive at the same destination.

We’ve been trying to control uncertainty since the beginning of time. We’ve simply become much more sophisticated in the ways we convince ourselves we’re succeeding.

We carry phones capable of answering almost any question in seconds. We monitor our sleep, our heart rate, our investments, our calendars, our children’s locations, the weather, traffic, and whether the package we ordered Tuesday has reached the USPS Regional Destination Facility in Atlanta, GA (it hasn’t).

We’ve become remarkably good at measuring life.

Controlling it remains another matter entirely.

History offers no shortage of reminders. Jim Fixx helped inspire a generation to run for longer, healthier lives, yet died of a heart attack while out for a run. More recently, entrepreneur Bryan Johnson has spent millions trying to slow aging by measuring and optimizing nearly every aspect of his health, only to discover that life still had a surprise waiting for him. Neither story argues against exercise or good health. They simply remind us that discipline can influence life, but it cannot negotiate with uncertainty.

Perhaps that’s why so many of us are tired. We’re carrying the impossible burden of trying to manage outcomes that were never ours to manage in the first place.

So we do what human beings have always done.

We go looking for answers.

We call it self-help because “accepting that I might not be in charge” has never been a particularly strong marketing slogan.

On one side of the bookstore, the shelves are lined with books promising a better life. Build better habits. Think differently. Eliminate stress. Find peace and happiness. Unlock your potential. Somewhere nearby, a self-appointed life guru (and podcast host, of course) is confidently explaining that all successful people wake up before sunrise, take cold plunges, journal, deadlift, eat elk meat, and never, under any circumstances, look at their phones before rescuing an orphan.

I have nothing against self-improvement. I’ve read many of those books myself, and several have genuinely helped me become a better husband, father, leader, and friend.

Self-improvement asks, “How can I become better?”

Sooner or later, life asks different questions.

Perhaps that’s why, at the very same time self-help has become a multibillion-dollar industry, ancient sacred texts are experiencing renewed interest.

Bible sales have climbed dramatically over the past few years, and the YouVersion Bible App recently surpassed one billion installs worldwide. According to YouVersion’s engagement data, people are increasingly turning to Scripture in search of answers to anxiety, fear, peace, and hope.

That doesn’t strike me as a coincidence.

It strikes me as humanity asking the same questions it has always been asking.

Watching those seventy people this morning, I realized none of them were celebrating because they had finally taken control of their lives. If anything, they were celebrating the opposite. Each, in his or her own way, had reached the end of themselves. Not in despair, but in surrender.

We tend to think of surrender as something that happens when we’ve lost. When we’ve exhausted every option, waved the white flag, and finally admitted defeat.

But perhaps surrender isn’t the abandonment of hope.

Perhaps it’s the abandonment of the exhausting illusion that we were ever meant to carry the weight of the world on our own shoulders.

I don’t know where this letter finds you today.

Maybe life feels wonderfully joyous and predictable.

I hope it does.

Or maybe you’re carrying something that nobody else can see. A decision you can’t make. A relationship you can’t repair. A diagnosis you didn’t expect. A future you can’t quite picture anymore.

Perhaps the question isn’t how to regain control.

Perhaps the better question is this:

Who, or what, have you entrusted your life to?

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The Gift of Good People

One of the greatest gifts of my career has been the people I’ve met along the way.

Take my friend, Brock Cline.

Brock is one of those rare people who listens more than he talks. He pays attention. He thinks. Then, a day or two later, he’ll pop up with a thoughtful question, an idea you hadn’t considered, a recommendation, or an introduction to someone who might help. I’ve come to appreciate that some of the most generous people don’t give you the most words. They simply give your words the most consideration.

If you’re building something meaningful, wrestling with a difficult problem, or simply enjoy thoughtful conversations with good people, I’d be happy to introduce you.

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There Was a Better Story

I found myself in New York City for a series of media interviews related to a business venture I was leading.

Over lunch, I met Professor Alex (T. Alexander Puutio).

Before we ordered, he offered a disclaimer.

Many of his conversations eventually become stories for Forbes, he explained. Ours might. Or it might not. If it did, it would probably be months before it appeared. If it didn’t, it wasn’t personal. Either he’d forgotten about our conversation, or he’d found a better story to write.

Refreshingly honest and fair.

The conversation that followed was terrific. His own story is genuinely fascinating, and I don’t use that word lightly.

A few months passed.

No story.

Must’ve been pretty forgettable. I took it as constructive feedback.

Fortunately, I still came away with something far more valuable than a byline in Forbes. I discovered one of the world’s more interesting characters, someone whose writing and lectures have challenged my thinking ever since.

If you enjoy thoughtful writing on leadership, business, technology, culture, learning, and the occasional idea that sticks with you long after you’ve finished reading, I’d encourage you to subscribe to Professor Alex’s Substack.

And Scott, Dwain, Strategic Global Media, thank you for making this connection happen.

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Until next time…

Be kind.

And learn someone’s name.