Who Is Your Puppet Master

In our lives, we give people permission—sometimes knowingly, most times unknowingly—to control us with invisible strings. They’re the ones that tie us to our past, to someone else’s expectations, to the version of ourselves that we think we’re supposed to be.

Unfortunately, gifts from loved ones often come with strings like these. My parents taught me about this in very different ways. My dad’s love language was excessive generosity. He gave freely, abundantly, and without condition. My mom was different, though. The older I got, the more I realized her gifts came tied to expectations of behavior. There was either gratitude required, or conformity. If you didn’t comply, well, there were consequences.

There was a moment in my marriage to Lora, early on, when I was finding my faith again. I was learning to let only one person’s opinion define me: God. And my mom made a statement about my character because I wasn’t meeting her expectations. She couldn’t control me with gifts, so she tried manipulation, but I had already decided to cut the strings. I told her, “I don’t want anything from you moving forward.” I refused to conform based on her attack on my character.

Here’s the thing about puppets: they have strings everywhere. Multiple attachment points for control.

Then there is a tether, which is very different. A tether is singular, fixed, designed to keep you safe while giving you freedom to move.

That’s what Jesus offers.

He doesn’t want us controlled by multiple puppet masters. He wants us tethered to Him, singularly, securely. That tether is protection. It’s the difference between having your worth defined by everyone else’s opinions, desires, and demands, versus having it defined by the one who created you.

Religion wants to add strings back on, but Jesus came to cut those strings. He said, essentially, stop overcomplicating this. Love God with everything you’ve got. Love your neighbor like you love yourself. That’s it. That’s the only tether you need.

When I cut the strings and refused to be controlled by my mom’s expectations, something interesting happened. She removed me as the executor of her will, and removed my healthcare power of attorney and financial power of attorney.

I expected to be devastated, to feel the sting of rejection. But I didn’t, I just felt clarity and emotional freedom.

That absence of hurt was the real gift, because it proved something I needed to know: I’d already been freed. The strings were gone. What she was doing with her will didn’t define me. Her disappointment in me didn’t diminish me.

I spent so much of my life living to perform for other people’s expectations. I hadn’t set my own, so I was constantly being pulled in different directions. Like a puppet with multiple masters, each one tugging in a different direction. It was exhausting.

When you’re living like that, you’re not living, you’re surviving. You’re reacting. You’re in constant fight-or-flight mode, which disables the very thing that separates us from God’s other creatures: our ability to think logically and creatively.

That’s the most powerful thing about faith: you don’t have to defend yourself anymore. You don’t have to respond to every word, every accusation, or every expectation that someone has placed on you.

The only words that matter are the things God has spoken over you. And He’s spoken abundance and worth. Love calls us to serve, not to perform.

The biggest challenge is that we’re comfortable being controlled. The idea of real freedom, being tethered to only one source of worth and value, can be terrifying. Because true freedom means responsibility. It means you can’t blame anyone else for the choices you make and you have to have faith that He is enough.

Remember that the only master worth serving is the One who looks at you and says, “You’re tethered to me forever. That’s all the definition you need.”