There’s this moment that hits all of us. You know the right thing to do. You know what God’s asking of you. You know what obedience looks like. And yet—You just don’t want to.
You don’t want to forgive.
You don’t want to love them again.
You don’t want to bite your tongue.
You don’t want to take the high road.
You don’t want to keep showing up.
You don’t want to be the bigger person.
You don’t want to let go of the grudge, the comfort, the control, the fear.
It’s not rebellion. It’s not full-blown disobedience. It’s just… “I don’t want to.” And that’s where faith becomes real. Not in the mountaintop moments where everything feels clear and clean. But in the tension between your will and God’s ways. That sacred space where you say, like Jesus did in the garden, “Not my will, but yours be done.” (Luke 22:42) That’s not just a holy prayer. It’s a gritty, everyday surrender.
Because the truth is—God’s ways are better.
Even when they don’t feel better.
Even when they don’t make sense.
Even when they cost more than you wanted to pay.
Paul said it like this: “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” (Galatians 6:9)
But what if I’m tired of doing good? What if the harvest feels a million miles away? What if the only thing I want is to take the easier road? Here’s what I’m learning: obedience is rarely about feelings. It’s about trust.
And in those “I don’t want to” moments, I’m invited to lean in—not on my own understanding—but on the One who sees the whole picture. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.” (Proverbs 3:5-6) I don’t always want to. But I always need to.
So if you’re in a moment like that—where your head knows what’s right, but your heart is dragging its feet—You’re not alone.
Sometimes the most beautiful thing you can do is take a small step in the right direction—while whispering, “God, help me want what You want.”
Peace,
Nick
You don’t want to forgive.
You don’t want to love them again.
You don’t want to bite your tongue.
You don’t want to take the high road.
You don’t want to keep showing up.
You don’t want to be the bigger person.
You don’t want to let go of the grudge, the comfort, the control, the fear.
It’s not rebellion. It’s not full-blown disobedience. It’s just… “I don’t want to.” And that’s where faith becomes real. Not in the mountaintop moments where everything feels clear and clean. But in the tension between your will and God’s ways. That sacred space where you say, like Jesus did in the garden, “Not my will, but yours be done.” (Luke 22:42) That’s not just a holy prayer. It’s a gritty, everyday surrender.
Because the truth is—God’s ways are better.
Even when they don’t feel better.
Even when they don’t make sense.
Even when they cost more than you wanted to pay.
Paul said it like this: “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” (Galatians 6:9)
But what if I’m tired of doing good? What if the harvest feels a million miles away? What if the only thing I want is to take the easier road? Here’s what I’m learning: obedience is rarely about feelings. It’s about trust.
And in those “I don’t want to” moments, I’m invited to lean in—not on my own understanding—but on the One who sees the whole picture. “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.” (Proverbs 3:5-6) I don’t always want to. But I always need to.
So if you’re in a moment like that—where your head knows what’s right, but your heart is dragging its feet—You’re not alone.
Sometimes the most beautiful thing you can do is take a small step in the right direction—while whispering, “God, help me want what You want.”
Peace,
Nick