It seems unlikely that the two stances can coexist. 

Life is my own. Life comes from God. 

It certainly appears like I decide where to go for lunch, or how to respond to a feisty comment. Autonomy is mine, to squeeze or squander as I wish. 

Walking teaches me this. A decision to go on the trails, even if it is cold and I would rather stay inside, is a way to exercise both my legs and my freedom. I choose this. But in what universe do I credit myself with the actual mobility, or stamina? Those capacities mysteriously arrive in the inbox that is my body. Sure, I ate the peanut butter sandwich, but do I even know how that translates to calories? People who put their trust in God, try to emulate His directives. It is not coercion that bends their steps, but eagerness to keep up. 

I see this with young children. Most of them, though I will admit not all, traipse along behind their mothers even in an airport with many possible directions. In theory, they are free to go someplace else, but to them liberty is synonymous with being beside mom. I am able to choose from a gamut of behaviors. But if the place I want to end up is heaven, at least some of them are out of the running.