I will praise the Lord as long as I live; I will sing praises to my God while I have my being. Put not your trust in princes, in a son of man, in whom there is no salvation. When his breath departs, he returns to the earth; on that very day his plans perish. Blessed is he whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord his God. (Psalm 146:2-5)

President Eisenhower once told a group of military planners that “Plans are worthless, but planning is everything.” The activity of planning is vital. But the result of that activity, the plans themselves, those are useless, because, when you’re planning, especially when planning for emergencies, you must start with this one thing: the definition of “emergency” is that it is unexpected, which means, it’s not going to happen the way you planned. Or, as Mike Tyson put it, “Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.”

Plans are worthless, but planning is vital because it keeps you engaged with the problem. Part of the problem is that there are forces beyond your control. We can’t control nature—neither our own nor the world’s. But the deeper problem is not that there are forces beyond our control. The problem is that we believe we can control them. The problem is not our plans, but the faith we put in them.

In the psalm, the word translated as “princes,” is less about a position, and more of a character trait. It describes someone who is eager and influential. And even if we lack this trait, but we have the backing of a man with a plan (or a woman with a plan), that can feel solid, reliable. The psalm, however, says it’s a mirage, because that influential person is mortal just like you. They cannot save you. So, the problem for each of us is not that our plans come to nothing, but that we trusted in them in the first place.

The psalm offers a solution: put your trust in the God of Israel, the God and Father of Jesus, the King, who was crucified by the schemes of influential people, but raised from the dead in the bigger plan of God. In other words: turn your plans into prayers, giving way to praise. The plans themselves aren’t the problem. Go ahead, make plans. But then let your plans become prayers. Talk with God about your plans. And listen. Read the Bible. Listen to God’s plan. And let this bring you back to praise Him.

Artist Eleanor Dickinson once produced a set of drawings she titled “Crucifixions.” She used bold colors on black velvet to depict various people in cruciform, cross-shaped postures. The people who modeled for Eleanor’s drawings weren’t professionals. They were people she knew personally, Christians who were suffering from chronic or terminal illnesses. By drawing them, she wanted to understand them, to feel what they were feeling as she told their story, depicting their pain and hope. Later, Eleanor noticed how the “bodily posture of crucifixion with arms outstretched was also the posture of praise.” Now, she wasn’t trying to redefine their pain as something good on its own. No, even Jesus once asked God that the pain not be part of the plan (see Mark 14:36). But since He entrusted Himself into His loving Father’s will, we also can surrender our plans, fall into the outstretched arms of Jesus, and let praise emerge even from our pain, because God’s plan doesn’t end in crucifixion, but in resurrection and new creation.