How to Want What You Don't Want Yet
Paul asked a famous question about why he kept doing the things he didn't want to do, and most of us have quoted it at some point because it feels honest. But there's a quieter version of that struggle that hits closer to home for a lot of us. It isn't that we keep doing what we don't want to do. It's that we don't want to do what we already know we're supposed to do.
You know you should have that conversation. You know you should get up earlier. You know you should stop by and check on the person who's been on your mind for three weeks. Nobody has to convince you. The information isn't the issue. The wanting is.
And if you listen closely, there's a conversation happening underneath all of it. Pastor Nate described it in a way that landed uncomfortably well: you win every argument you have with yourself. Should I have the chocolate cake? You went on a run five days ago, so probably. Should I say something to the driver who just cut me off? Well, somebody has to teach him. Should I skip this week? You've had a long week, you've earned it. The verdict is always in your favor because you're arguing both sides. Then the algorithms hand you a feed full of people who see it exactly the way you do, and the whole thing starts to feel like wisdom instead of what it actually is, which is a very persuasive person talking to himself.
That inner conversation isn't a minor thing. What I say to myself shapes what I do with myself, and what I do with myself determines how useful I am to God. Paul wrote to Timothy that in a great house there are vessels of gold and silver and also vessels of wood and clay, some for honor and some for dishonor, and then he added a line that puts the ball squarely in our court: if anyone cleanses himself from what is dishonorable, he will be a vessel for honorable use, useful to the Master, ready for every good work. That word "useful" is the one worth sitting with. God's love for you was never in question and never depends on your performance. He loved you at your worst and sent His Son for you before you ever turned toward Him. But usefulness is different from acceptance. Usefulness is about availability, and availability is a decision you make.
Here's where it gets practical. Most of us handle God's invitations the way a kid handles a parent walking into the room. "Hey, can you do me a favor real quick?" And immediately the negotiation starts. How quick? How long? What is it? We want the terms before we commit. But when Isaiah stood in that throne room and heard God ask, "Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?" he answered, "Here am I. Send me." He hadn't been told the assignment yet. He said yes to a blank page. Willingness is giving God your yes before you've heard the details.
Jesus said the same thing from a different angle in John 7. Anyone who chooses to do the will of God will find out whether the teaching is from God. The knowing comes after the willing, not before it. Which means a lot of us are stuck in a holding pattern of our own making, waiting for clarity we've already made a condition of our obedience, while God waits for the yes that would unlock it.
If you're reading that and thinking you don't have that kind of yes in you right now, you're in better shape than you think. There's a completely legitimate place to start, and it sounds like this: "God, I don't want to. But I want to want to." That's not a cop-out. That's your will speaking up on your behalf, and Paul told the Philippians that God Himself is at work in you both to will and to do His good pleasure. He'll work on your want-to if you'll let Him in the room.
So here's the one thing to actually do this week. Pick the specific thing you've been avoiding. Not a category, not "be more spiritual," but the actual thing, the conversation or the phone call or the habit you've been arguing yourself out of for months. Say it out loud to God by name and hand Him your yes before you know what it will cost: "God, my yes is already on the table. Now show me what You want." Then invite Him into the conversation you're having with yourself about it. You've been winning that argument for a long time. It might be time to lose one.
You know you should have that conversation. You know you should get up earlier. You know you should stop by and check on the person who's been on your mind for three weeks. Nobody has to convince you. The information isn't the issue. The wanting is.
And if you listen closely, there's a conversation happening underneath all of it. Pastor Nate described it in a way that landed uncomfortably well: you win every argument you have with yourself. Should I have the chocolate cake? You went on a run five days ago, so probably. Should I say something to the driver who just cut me off? Well, somebody has to teach him. Should I skip this week? You've had a long week, you've earned it. The verdict is always in your favor because you're arguing both sides. Then the algorithms hand you a feed full of people who see it exactly the way you do, and the whole thing starts to feel like wisdom instead of what it actually is, which is a very persuasive person talking to himself.
That inner conversation isn't a minor thing. What I say to myself shapes what I do with myself, and what I do with myself determines how useful I am to God. Paul wrote to Timothy that in a great house there are vessels of gold and silver and also vessels of wood and clay, some for honor and some for dishonor, and then he added a line that puts the ball squarely in our court: if anyone cleanses himself from what is dishonorable, he will be a vessel for honorable use, useful to the Master, ready for every good work. That word "useful" is the one worth sitting with. God's love for you was never in question and never depends on your performance. He loved you at your worst and sent His Son for you before you ever turned toward Him. But usefulness is different from acceptance. Usefulness is about availability, and availability is a decision you make.
Here's where it gets practical. Most of us handle God's invitations the way a kid handles a parent walking into the room. "Hey, can you do me a favor real quick?" And immediately the negotiation starts. How quick? How long? What is it? We want the terms before we commit. But when Isaiah stood in that throne room and heard God ask, "Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?" he answered, "Here am I. Send me." He hadn't been told the assignment yet. He said yes to a blank page. Willingness is giving God your yes before you've heard the details.
Jesus said the same thing from a different angle in John 7. Anyone who chooses to do the will of God will find out whether the teaching is from God. The knowing comes after the willing, not before it. Which means a lot of us are stuck in a holding pattern of our own making, waiting for clarity we've already made a condition of our obedience, while God waits for the yes that would unlock it.
If you're reading that and thinking you don't have that kind of yes in you right now, you're in better shape than you think. There's a completely legitimate place to start, and it sounds like this: "God, I don't want to. But I want to want to." That's not a cop-out. That's your will speaking up on your behalf, and Paul told the Philippians that God Himself is at work in you both to will and to do His good pleasure. He'll work on your want-to if you'll let Him in the room.
So here's the one thing to actually do this week. Pick the specific thing you've been avoiding. Not a category, not "be more spiritual," but the actual thing, the conversation or the phone call or the habit you've been arguing yourself out of for months. Say it out loud to God by name and hand Him your yes before you know what it will cost: "God, my yes is already on the table. Now show me what You want." Then invite Him into the conversation you're having with yourself about it. You've been winning that argument for a long time. It might be time to lose one.