I spent decades trying to control things I couldn't control. I tried to control outcomes, other people's responses, whether opportunities materialized, how my efforts were received. I exhausted myself managing circumstances, predicting futures, ensuring results. The harder I worked to control everything, the more out of control I felt. Until I finally understood something that changed everything: In my entire life, I control exactly two things - my actions and my attitudes.
That's it. Just two.
This realization didn't feel limiting - it felt liberating. When I stopped trying to control things outside my control, I stopped wasting energy on futile efforts. When I accepted full responsibility for what I did control, I stopped making excuses and started making progress. This became the foundation everything else was built on: I am responsible for my actions and attitudes. I cannot blame my circumstances, my past, other people, or even "how God made me." I own my responses. I own my choices. I own my growth.
From this foundation, I discovered six principles that became my fixed points for navigation—what I call the Pilocon Principles.
Responsibility before response. Most people react immediately when something goes wrong - defending, explaining, justifying. I learned to pause first and ask: What am I responsible for in this situation? Years ago, when I was let go from a position I believed God had led me to, my first instinct was to focus on their failures. But taking responsibility first meant owning my part - the bitterness I'd allowed, the communication I'd avoided, the assumptions I'd made instead of asking questions. This principle keeps wobble from becoming drift. When you're taking responsibility first, you're actively navigating.
Authenticity over performance. I stopped managing my image and started telling the truth. You can't course-correct from a position you're not actually in. If you're pretending to be somewhere you're not, you can't make the adjustments you actually need. Within my circle of discipleship relationships, authenticity had to trump performance. Not broadcasting every struggle to everyone, but being honest about where I actually was so I could navigate from reality, not fiction.
Process over arrival. Even after five decades of following Christ I'm still wobbling. Still making course corrections. Still learning things about myself that need to change. This isn't failure - this is process. Paul, at the end of his life with all his accomplishments, still wrote that he hadn't already obtained it but pressed on. I stopped asking "Have I arrived yet?" and started asking "Am I engaged in the process? Am I moving? Am I learning?" The navigation is the work. The wobble is the signature of a life being actively formed.
Preparation over prediction. I'd wasted so much energy trying to predict what God was doing, creating expectations that didn't align with His actual plan. Prediction invited paralysis. But preparation positioned me to move with the Spirit wherever He led. I stopped demanding to see the full map before taking a step. Instead, I asked: What has He clearly shown me to do right now? What's the next faithful step? My job wasn't to predict - it was to prepare and obey.
Consistency over intensity. From years as a weekend athlete, I learned that one great workout doesn't win a race. Thirty to forty good workouts strung together - that's what wins. The same in discipleship. I stopped chasing dramatic spiritual experiences and built sustainable rhythms instead. Fifteen minutes of Scripture daily beats marathon monthly sessions. Brief consistent prayer beats annual retreats. This is how wobble amplitude decreases - not through occasional intense corrections, but through consistent small adjustments.
Community over independence. The harbor pilot doesn't navigate solo, they're in constant communication with the ship's crew. Neither should I. I needed people to see my blind spots, speak truth when I was rationalizing, encourage me when I wanted to quit, celebrate when I grew. I stopped treating discipleship as a private pursuit and found actual discipleship relationships in people with permission to ask hard questions and access to my actual life.
These six principles work together as a navigation system. They don't eliminate the tensions I face, but they give me fixed points to reference as I navigate them. They help me distinguish productive wobble from destructive drift.
You can't navigate without fixed points. But when you have them, you can embrace the wobble and begin seeing it not as failure but as faithfulness. Not as weakness but as how discipleship actually works.
You're not trying to stop wobbling. You're trying to wobble well.
