The Lord is My Shepherd, But My Bully Thinks He's Co-Pilot: Why Strong-Willed People Struggle to Let God Lead

Be honest. You like being in control. You researched the best harness, the best training method, the best food, the best vet. You didn't stumble into owning a bully breed - you made a deliberate, calculated decision and you stand by it hard. You're competent, you're prepared, and you're absolutely exhausting to argue with.

Here's the problem: that same personality that makes you an incredible bully breed advocate makes surrendering to God's leadership feel like nails on a chalkboard.

In this episode of Abiding Trails, we're sitting in Psalm 23 - not skimming it like we've heard it a thousand times, but really pulling it apart. We're also hitting Proverbs 3:5-6 and getting brutally honest about what it looks like when strong-willed people try to co-pilot a life that God is supposed to be shepherding. Plus the story behind the "Lord is My Shepherd, My Bully Thinks He's Co-Pilot" tee and why your dog's need to be in charge might be exposing something in your own heart.

If you've ever white-knuckled a decision, over-researched a problem to avoid trusting God, or taken the leash back the second things got uncomfortable - this episode is going to step on your toes. Intentionally.

Links mentioned:

The Lord is My Shepherd My Bully Thinks He’s Co-Pilot – Christian Dog Tee | Abiding Paws

Transcript

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Picture this, it's 6 a.m., you haven't had your coffee yet, and you're trying to get in your car with your bully. You barely get your seatbelt on, and your 50-pound baby is already halfway in your lap. Nose on the steering wheel, paws on the console, acting like they've been promoted to Uber driver. You try to gently move them over and and they give you that look like, relax human, I've got this. You and I both know they absolutely do not have this. They can't even decide between the window and the AC vent without deep internal conflict. But in their mind, they're co-pilot at minimum, driver if they can wiggle far enough forward. Welcome to Abiding Trails, the podcast for bully breed parents trying to walk with Jesus through the beautiful, chaotic, slobbery mess of everyday life. I'm Chastity, and today we're talking about what happens when the Lord is your shepherd, but you and your bully are both absolutely convinced you should be co-pilot. If you've ever asked God to leave lead your life while still low-key telling him the route, the speed, and the timeline, this episode is going to step on some toes. In love, with steel-toed boots. Let's just say the quiet part out loud. Most bully breed owners are control people. And honestly, you have to be. You didn't accidentally end up with a powerful, intelligent, stubborn dog. Something in you resonates with that strength. You respect determination. You value loyalty and intensity. When you own a stigmatized breed, you don't have the luxury of being laid back. You have to control the environment, scan the park for off-leash dogs, manage introductions, and constantly monitor how the public perceives your dog. Those are genuinely good qualities until they slide into spiritual control issues. Here's what happens. We get so used to gripping the leash tightly, managing every variable, and anticipating every disaster that we start treating our relationship with God the exact same way. We say, the Lord is my shepherd, but we live like we're the co-pilot. We want to hold the map, we want to suggest alternate routes, we want to keep one hand on the steering wheel just in case God doesn't merge into traffic the way we think he should. Meanwhile, our dog is doing the exact same thing, pushing through doorways first because they genuinely believe they need to check for danger before we do. They sleep against us because they're monitoring the perimeter. They pull toward perceived threats because in their mind, they're the one responsible for keeping things safe. They think they're the shepherd. They're actually the sheep. Sound like anyone else we know? Psalm 23. I know you've heard it at funerals and seen it on coffee mugs. I need you to set all of that aside and actually hear it today as someone who struggles to release control. The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. That first line is the whole sermon. The Lord, not me, not my planning, not my hustle, not my ability to anticipate problems, is my shepherd. A shepherd does not consult the sheep about the root. The sheep don't get a vote on which pasture they graze in. The sheep's job is to not navigate. Verse 2. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside the still waters. He makes me lie down. That's not a gentle suggestion. That's a shepherd who knows his sheep are too anxious and too driven to rest voluntarily. Some of us don't know how to stop moving unless God essentially forces that stillness on us. A health scare, a business slowdown, a s a season where no matter how hard you push, nothing moves forward. That's not punishment. That's a shepherd making a driven sheep lie down because the sheep desperately needs it and would never choose it on their own. I'm very guilty of this. Now Proverbs 3, 5 to 6, trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths. Lean not on your own understanding. For the research obsessed, plan everything, control the variables, personality type. This verse is sandpaper, because our understanding is actually pretty good most of the time. We're competent, we're capable, we've been right before. And God is saying, That's great, trust me anyway. Not instead of using your brain, but underneath all of it. The foundation is trust in Him, not trust in your own ability to figure it out. I need to get brutally honest with you about a specific area where I've tried to be copilot when God was clearly supposed to be driving. This happens quite often with abiding pause, and building my brand the way I think I want to or I should. I'm stubborn, and I think I need to be in control of the situation at all times. Every single time I tried to take the copilot seat, I could feel the friction, not dramatic, burning bush friction, just this quiet, persistent resistance, like a bully breed hitting the end of a leash, that sudden stop that communicates, not that direction. And every time I finally released the grip, not because I felt peaceful about it, but because I was too tired to hold on, things ended up moving. Not always the way I expected, but they did move. My bully does this thing where if I try to force them through a door they're uncertain about, they plant all four feet and become an immovable object. Now this happens a lot at the vet, more than anything. But if I go first, stay calm, and just wait, they follow every single time. I think God is a lot more patient with my four-footed planting than I give him credit for. He doesn't drag me through doors. He goes first, stays calm, and waits for me to trust him enough to follow. The Lord is my shepherd, my bully thinks he's copilot, is probably my most theologically loaded design I have currently, even though it reads like a confession wrapped in a joke. If you watch today's YouTube video, you'll see the challenge of getting that much text balanced and readable on a shirt. Text-heavy designs are genuinely harder to execute. Spacing, sizing, making sure it reads at a distance all matter. But I made this design because I needed to the reminder myself. I needed something wearable that would catch my own eye in the mirror and ask me, who's actually flying this thing today? Your bully thinks they're co-pilot because they love you and they're wired to protect and lead. Their heart is right when their behavior needs redirecting. And honestly, same. My heart is right when I try to take control. I'm not trying to usurp God. I'm trying to protect what I love. But the behavior still needs redirecting. This shirt is for the bully parent who is strong enough to admit they're a control freak and humble enough to keep working on it. Links in the show notes if that's you. Three things I want to carry you this week. First, identify your co-pilot behaviors. Get specific. It's not just I struggle with control. It's I refresh my sales dashboard 17 times a day. I replay conversations for what I should have said differently. I research instead of pray. I've done all of these things, by the way. Name your version of trying to grab the wheel, because you can't surrender what you haven't identified. Second, practice the drop it command. We teach our bullies drop it to keep them from swallowing things that will kill them. You need a spiritual drop it command. When you feel that anxiety rising and you start spinning out, trying to control a situation, verbally say, Lord, I'm dropping this. You are the shepherd, I am the sheep. Third, obey the last thing he told you. Sheep don't need to f know the final destination. They just need to take the next step the shepherd dictates. Stop obsessing over the five-year plan and just be obedient in the next five minutes. Read your word. Love your family, walk your dog, do the next right thing. Your trail marker for this week. God is not interested in riding shotgun in your life. He's either in the driver's seat or you're driving alone. You can't be fully led and half in charge at the same time. If this episode convicted you, good. That means it worked. Share it with another bully breed parent who is white knuckling their life right now and needs to hear that releasing control isn't weakness. It's the most courageous thing a strong-willed person can do. Tag me on Facebook and Instagram. Show me your co-pilot dogs hanging halfway into the front seat. And tell me, what's the area you're surrendering this week? Those stories are what this community is built on. Don't forget, our blog drops tomorrow on Tuesday with a deep dive into bully breed temperament and why your dog thinks they're the boss. It's practical, educational, and ties directly into everything we talked about today. Next Monday, we're closing out July, strong, with the most powerful episode of the month, The Forgiven Hat, Romans 8.1, and what it means to walk free from condemnation when the whole world has already decided what your dog and maybe you are guilty of. Until then, stay faithful, stay fierce, and let the shepherd actually lead. This is Abiding Trails. I'm Chastity with Abiding Paws, and I'll see you on the trail.