There was a season in my life where I genuinely believed that if I could just get everything “right,” I would finally feel steady. I was navigating health challenges that made my body feel unpredictable, walking through grief that I did not have language for, and trying to hold everything together for my family at the same time. I became very good at functioning, at showing up and doing what needed to be done, but underneath it all was exhaustion I could not shake. I kept thinking the answer was more discipline, more structure, more effort. But the harder I tried to control everything, the more disconnected I felt from myself and from others. And deep inside myself, I felt disconnected from something greater than everything else, something that was stepping into my life without me even knowing. God was calling to me and telling me to surrender. It was not until I began to loosen my grip and allow myself to be held in the middle of it all that something started to shift. I did not have it figured out and nothing was fixed, but slowly I began to feel less like I was striving and more like I was being rooted.
This kind of exhaustion that comes from trying to be “good,” trying to be patient, trying to be loving, or trying to do the right thing, it was breaking me.
I think most of us have felt that tension. It’s a desire to live well paired with the inability to sustain it. This is a deeply human experience, and it’s one that Scripture does not ignore. In fact, it speaks directly to it and directly to us if we can slow down and listen.
The Struggle We Don’t Talk About Enough
In Romans 7, Paul describes something that feels almost too honest:
“I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing.”
It’s the tension between who we want to be and what we actually do.
We know what love looks like:
- patience
- kindness
- selflessness
And yet, something in us resists it. We get tired, defensive, self-protective, or distracted. We are not failing, but simply becoming aware, and this awareness is where our transformation can truly begin.
The Lie of “Try Harder”
Many of us were taught that spiritual growth looks like effort. We must be more disciplined and obedient, or we must try harder next time. But Jesus offers a different image entirely.
In John 15, He says:
“I am the vine; you are the branches… apart from me you can do nothing.”
This is not a call to strive but to remain. A branch does not force itself to grow, nor does it strain to produce fruit. It simply stays connected. Growth happens naturally when nourishment is present.
Abiding vs. Performing
There is a subtle but powerful shift that happens when we move from performance to connection.
Performance says:
- Earn love
- Prove yourself
- Do better
Abiding says:
- You are already loved
- Stay close
- Let love change you
When we believe we have to earn God’s love, obedience becomes exhausting. It turns into pressure, and pressure rarely produces lasting transformation.
But when we begin with love, and we let ourselves be rooted in it, something changes. We begin to obey because we are already accepted instead of obeying to be accepted.
What “Fruit” Actually Looks Like
Jesus makes it clear that the outcome of abiding is not perfection. The outcome of abiding is love.
This is the kind of love that:
- chooses others even when it’s inconvenient
- lets go of pride
- gives time, attention, and care freely
- sacrifices comfort for connection
This is the kind of love that grows over time.
The Daily Rhythm of Grace
Transformation stems from a rhythm of moments. We soften and remember the roots and the vine, and we long to return as the branch. And this time we bring with us a willingness to express honesty about where we are.
It often looks like this:
- recognizing where we have fallen short
- bringing it into the light without shame
- receiving grace again
- allowing that grace to shape how we treat others
This becomes a daily pursuit.
And over time, something begins to shift.
We become:
- more patient
- more compassionate
- more grounded
- more at peace
This happens because we stayed connected and acknowledged without force.
Why the Cross Still Offends
The message at the center of all of this is simple, but not easy to accept:
We cannot fix ourselves.
That truth challenges something deep within us. We want control and we want to believe we can figure it out on our own, but the cross tells a different story.
It tells us that:
- healing requires surrender
- transformation begins with humility
- love is received before it is given
And for many, that feels uncomfortable, but it is also where freedom begins.
A Different Way Forward
If you’ve been stuck in cycles of trying harder and feeling like it’s never enough, maybe the invitation is not to do more, but to stay, slow down, reconnect, and let yourself be loved before you try to love well.
Because real, lasting, life-giving love comes from being rooted in something deeper.
Reflection
Where in your life are you striving instead of abiding?
What might change if you allowed yourself to remain, to be nourished, held, and slowly transformed from the inside out?
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