I never imagined my life could be this busy. Not the kind of busy that feels empty, but the kind that stretches you so thin you wonder if your thoughts are even sharp anymore. Every day is full. From sunrise to long after sunset, it’s a continuous movement, from airport pickups to coaching sessions, decision-making, parenting, and reflection.

But here’s what surprises me: even in the weight of all this, I feel purposeful.

Still, I’ve noticed something. When I slow down to reflect, like today, I realize how easy it is for things to become permanent without us realizing it. And I don’t just mean the big life decisions. I mean the way small habits, unchecked thoughts, and rushed choices can slowly fix our lives into a shape we never intended.

That thought hit me recently, all because of something as trivial as hairspray.

The Hairspray Analogy: What You Make Permanent

When I travelled to China a few weeks ago, I wanted to pack light. I couldn’t bring my whole hair kit. So I chose only one item: the strongest, fastest hairspray I had. The one that fixes my hair instantly. A few sprays, and it’s locked into shape. Sounds efficient, right?

But here’s the problem. That spray doesn’t just fix. It seals. And if I haven’t shaped my hair first, added volume, softened the edges, worked in the layers, then the moment I spray, I’ve locked in something unprepared. Something I didn’t want. And I’d be stuck with it for the rest of the day.

It was a small moment. But it became a mirror.

Because life is like that.

There are decisions we make too quickly. We act before we’re ready. We assume it will all work out later. And the moment we make those decisions, they begin to harden. Like the hairspray, they start to fix us into patterns we didn’t fully choose.

In hair, you can wash it off the next day. But in life, not everything resets so easily.

What We Spray Without Realizing

We talk a lot about marriage being permanent. And it is. You don’t marry someone and then casually undo it when it feels uncomfortable. That’s why you date first, understand each other’s values, walk through the awkwardness of disagreement before you commit to forever. But marriage isn’t the only area where we fix things without shaping them.

We do it with parenthood. Some people have children hoping it will complete their story, give them identity, or fix a broken relationship. But parenting is not about fulfillment. It’s about stewardship. Once you become a parent, there’s no return policy. You can’t undo it. That child now carries your imprint.

We do it with belief systems. Some inherit religion like an old family tradition. They wear it, repeat it, claim it. But they’ve never wrestled with it. Never stripped it back to its roots and asked, “Do I believe this because it’s true, or because it’s convenient?” Lordship isn’t a label. It’s a reordering of allegiance.

We do it with identity labels. “I’m not a leader.” “I’m just not a disciplined person.” “I’ve always been like this.” These statements sound harmless. But repeat them often enough, and they become self-fulfilling. What starts as a passing thought becomes an unchallenged truth. A fixed identity shaped by repetition.

We do it with debt. With one signature, we commit to financial burdens that outlive our clarity. Some take on loans or enter business partnerships just to chase comfort. But they forget that comfort bought too quickly often costs long-term peace.

We do it with career paths. Pursuing law or medicine not because you’re called, but because your parents are proud. Saying yes to a leadership role because it sounds prestigious, not because you’ve counted the cost.

The real problem isn’t the commitment. It’s rushing to commit before we shape, soften, or understand what we’re committing to. Then we spray. And we live with it.

Stewardship: The Forgotten Word

The older I get, the more I realize: I’m not the master of my life. But I am still holding the wheel.

That’s what stewardship is. It’s the acknowledgment that life was never ours to control, but it is ours to care for. You can’t choose the terrain, but you can choose how you drive. You can’t rewrite gravity, but you can respect it.

You don’t own your children. You steward their growth. You don’t control your spouse. You nurture the covenant. You don’t invent your purpose. You discover and align with it.

Even biologically, we are wired for this. When a man becomes a father, his body begins to shift. Harvard studies have shown that new fathers experience a drop in testosterone and a rise in hormones like oxytocin and prolactin. These changes biologically prepare a man to bond, to nurture, to protect. Nature itself assumes you’ll shift from self to stewardship.

In business, we’re seeing the same shift. A Deloitte study in 2023 found that 73 percent of Gen Z and Millennials prefer to work for companies with purpose beyond profit. They’re not looking for owners. They’re looking for stewards. Leaders who hold the wheel not for control, but for the good of others.

And in Scripture, the word “steward” has always meant someone entrusted, not entitled. Someone who manages the house but doesn’t own it. That idea has grounded me for the last two decades. My decision to surrender lordship of my life to Christ was not a loss of autonomy. It was the beginning of alignment. I stopped pretending I was the master, and started living like I’d been entrusted with something sacred.

The Natural Laws You Can’t Hack

You can customize your phone. Silence notifications. Change themes. Rearrange icons. But life doesn’t work like that. There are fixed laws. You can’t love well without presence. You can’t be healthy without movement. You can’t build a legacy through shortcuts.

You reap what you sow. Always.

And no matter how much advertising or innovation tries to say otherwise, there are rules you cannot break without breaking yourself. You can’t hack love. You can’t cheat relationship. You can’t skip integrity and expect to keep peace.

And perhaps most sobering of all, you can’t manipulate truth.

That’s why lordship, repentance, and salvation are not religious terms to me. They are reorientations.

Lordship is choosing a new master, not just a new routine.

Repentance is changing direction, not wallowing in shame.

Salvation is a reset. Not for your schedule. For your soul.

The Peace-Purpose Paradox

Here’s something I’ve noticed. During wartime, people cling to life with everything they have. They sacrifice food, comfort, even safety to preserve what matters. But during peacetime, when everything is stable, people lose the will to live. Depression increases. Suicides rise. Meaning disappears.

The paradox is this: the more comfortable we are, the more disconnected we feel.

Because comfort without purpose is quietly dangerous. It dulls you. It tells you life is fine while stealing your desire to live fully.

That’s why being purpose-driven is not a branding term for me. It’s oxygen. When I’ve checked every box, married, children, house, income, I still felt something missing. It wasn’t more money. It wasn’t more control. It was meaning. So I surrendered the wheel.

And the journey since has been the most fulfilling, the most painful, and the most permanent.

The Reverse That Redefines It All

You are holding the wheel. That’s true.

But you are not the master. And that’s the gift.

Because you’re not asked to invent the map. Just to align with it.
You’re not asked to control outcomes. Just to steward your inputs.
You’re not asked to dominate others. Just to be faithful with what you’ve been given.

What have you made permanent, by accident?

A mindset? A story you keep repeating? A bitterness that’s hardened into identity?

And what do you need to make permanent, on purpose?

A daily moment of surrender. A quiet vow of faithfulness. A shift in how you lead. A return to stewardship.

The most dangerous permanents are the ones you don’t realize you’ve chosen. And the most powerful ones are the ones you shape, soften, and seal with clarity, humility, and reverence.

So yes. You’re holding the wheel.

But maybe today is the day you ask,
Who’s the one writing the road?