For a long time, I believed faithfulness required a certain kind of visible effort.
Not just obedience—but productivity.
Not just listening—but results.
Not just calling—but confirmation.
I didn’t realize how subtly performing had woven itself into my faith until the weight of it became impossible to ignore.
So lately, I’ve been releasing things.
Releasing performing.
Releasing hustling.
Releasing the quiet, constant pressure of metrics, numbers, and outcomes.
It is not that I believe these things are inherently wrong or harmful. In fact, many of them are encouraged—especially in ministry spaces where fruit is often measured in reach, engagement, and growth. But over time, these good things became heavy things. And eventually, they became things I could no longer carry without losing something essential: the quiet of my soul.
WHEN GOOD THINGS BECOME HEAVY
There is a difference between being diligent and being driven. Between stewardship and striving. Between faithfulness and fear disguised as faithfulness.
For years, I told myself I was simply being responsible—showing up consistently, offering content regularly, staying visible so the work God had given me wouldn’t disappear. But somewhere along the way, I began to confuse effort with worth. I started to believe that if the numbers dropped, the invitations slowed, or the responses thinned, it must mean something about me.
About my calling.
About my usefulness.
About whether I still belonged in these spaces at all.
And that belief is exhausting.
God, in His kindness, allowed the weight to build—not to break me, but to humble me. Not to diminish the calling He placed on my life, but to quiet the noise around it so I could hear Him again. And to start to release and lay some things down.
WHAT GOD IS ASKING ME TO RELEASE
I’m accepting God’s invitation to truly let Him take the wheel—not sitting in the passenger seat offering directions, but releasing control and trusting Him with where we’re going and how we’ll get there. I want to learn, again, how my faithfulness depends on Him, not on anything I do or don’t do.
PERFORMING
I’m releasing performing—the quiet belief that I must always show up polished, prepared, and spiritually “put together” in order to be faithful.
Performing is subtle because it often disguises itself as excellence. It tells us that effort equals devotion and that consistency is proof of calling. But over time, performing turns sacred work into a stage and intimacy with God into something we manage instead of receive.
I began to notice how often I was asking myself:
- Did I say this well enough?
- Did I show up strong enough?
- Did I give them what they needed?
Instead of asking:
- Did I listen?
- Did I obey?
- Did I remain present with God?
God has been gently reminding me that He is not impressed by my “performing” (nor does He ask for it!). He is drawn to my honesty. Faithfulness does not require me to be impressive—it asks me to be available.
Releasing performing has meant letting go of the need to prove that I belong. It has meant trusting that my calling is sustained by God’s grace, not my ability to present it well.
HUSTLING
I’m releasing hustling—the constant sense of urgency that says if I don’t keep pushing, everything will fall apart.
Hustling thrives on fear: fear of falling behind, fear of being forgotten, fear that rest will cost us something we cannot afford to lose. It convinces us that slowing down is irresponsible and that obedience must always feel effortful to be real.
But hustling left me tired—not just physically, but spiritually. It crowded out listening. It replaced trust with striving. And it made the work God gave me feel heavier than it was ever meant to be.
God has been teaching me that hurry & worry are not a fruits of the Spirit. And while diligence has its place, hustling often reveals a lack of trust—not a depth of faith.
Releasing hustling has meant choosing to move at God’s pace instead of my own anxiety. It has meant believing that what He is sustaining does not depend on my constant motion.
METRICS, NUMBERS, AND OUTCOMES
I’m releasing the quiet pressure of metrics, numbers, and outcomes—and the belief that visible results are the truest measure of fruitful faithfulness.
Numbers promise clarity, but they rarely tell the whole story. They show us what can be counted, not what is being formed. Over time, I began to watch the numbers too closely—engagement, growth, response—looking for reassurance that the work mattered and that God was still using it.
But metrics are a poor substitute for trust.
They shift our focus from obedience to effectiveness, from presence to performance, from faith to proof. And when numbers decline or plateau, they tempt us to believe something is wrong—with us, with the message, or with the calling itself.
God has been reminding me that much of His most important work happens in hidden places. Fruit does not always appear on our timeline, and impact is not always immediate or measurable.
Releasing outcomes has meant returning the results to God. It has meant choosing to obey without demanding evidence that my obedience is working.
REJECTION
One of the hardest things I’ve had to release is rejection (can I get an amen?)—not just the experience of it, but the meaning I attached to it.
I’m releasing rejection and the belief that closed doors have anything to do with my worth or God’s plans.
Rejection has a way of whispering lies we don’t even realize we’re listening to. It tells us we’ve missed something. That we’ve overstayed our welcome. That if God were truly at work, the path would be clearer, easier, more affirming.
But Scripture tells a different story.
Closed doors are not always correction. Often, they are protection.
Silence is not always absence. Sometimes, it is invitation.
And “no” is not the opposite of God’s goodness—it is often an expression of it.
I’m learning to trust that what didn’t open wasn’t a judgment who I am or what God has called me to do, but a mercy I may not fully understand yet.
PEOPLE AND PLACES
Along with rejection, I’ve also been releasing people and places—and the belief that leaving says something about my commitment or character.
This has been one of the most tender releases of all.
There are seasons when God asks us to plant, water, and tend. And there are seasons when He asks us to step back, entrust what we’ve nurtured into His hands, and follow Him elsewhere—even when “elsewhere” isn’t fully defined yet.
Leaving doesn’t always mean something went wrong.
Stepping back doesn’t mean giving up.
And staying isn’t always the holiest option.
Sometimes obedience looks like loosening your grip on spaces that once felt like home, trusting that God knows where your presence is needed next—even if that place is quieter, smaller, or unseen.
LEANING INTO FAITH AND FREEDOM
If we hold too tightly, our hands are not open to receive what God wants to give us as we lean into a new season. That is why releasing must come first.
As I release 2025—its striving, its noise, its constant measuring—I am leaning into 2026 with a different posture.
I am choosing:
- Obedience over outcomes.
- Presence over pressure.
- Listening over striving.
I don’t have a perfectly mapped plan for what comes next. I don’t know how often I’ll show up publicly or what shape future projects will take. But I do know this: I am no longer willing to drive this calling myself.
I’m letting God take the wheel—truly.
Not from the passenger seat where I still try to give directions, explain the route, or ask for reassurance every few miles. But with open hands. With trust. With a willingness to enjoy the ride instead of controlling it.
IF YOU NEED TO RELEASE
If you find yourself tired, discouraged, or quietly questioning your place—especially if you’ve been faithful for a long time—I want you to know this: you are not failing because things feel quieter. You are not forgotten because the fruit feels hidden. And you are not disobedient because God is asking you to release something you once held tightly.
Sometimes faithfulness looks like showing up.
And sometimes it looks like stepping back.
Both can be holy.
I’m learning to trust that God knows what He’s doing—even when I don’t. And I’m choosing to believe that His presence, not my performance, is what sustains this calling.
That will have to be enough.
And somehow, I believe it is.
If you would like a guide to lead you gently and intentionally through this process of releasing, click HERE.
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