The Day I Stopped Resisting God

I didn’t realize how long I had been fighting. Not the world. Not people. But myself. For years, I carried dreams that looked shiny on the outside but were hollow inside. I carried expectations that didn’t belong to me. I carried plans that seemed perfect to me, but were never part of the plan God had written for my life.

And slowly, quietly, those things began to break me.

It started with disappointments. Little ones at first. Then bigger ones. I kept telling myself I just needed to work harder, believe more, push stronger. But every time I pushed, life pushed back.

Every time I said “This is the way,” something blocked the path.

Every time I tried to force a door open, it slammed shut so hard it shook me.

I thought the world was against me.

I thought people didn’t understand me.

I thought fate was cruel.

But the truth was simpler.

I was trying to write a story that wasn’t mine.

One night, after another long day of confusion and frustration, I sat alone in silence. No noise. No movement. Just my own heart speaking louder than ever. I could feel something inside me cracking.

And then it came.

The whisper.

That soft, gentle voice.

“Stop resisting.”

I took a deep breath. For the first time in my life, I didn’t answer back. I didn’t argue. I didn’t explain myself. I simply closed my eyes and said:

“God, do whatever You want with me.”

It felt like the first breath of peace I had taken in years.

I realized I had never trusted God fully. I trusted Him when things were good, but questioned Him when things changed. I trusted Him when doors opened, but doubted Him when they closed. I trusted His blessings, but not His timing.

So I surrendered.

Fully.

Completely.

Quietly.

In the days that followed, I noticed something new.

My heart felt lighter.

My steps felt steadier.

My mind felt clearer.

I no longer felt the urge to control everything.

I no longer feared delays or detours.

I no longer panicked when plans changed.

Instead, I learned to say, “Maybe God is leading me somewhere better.”

Life did not magically become smooth. But now, even in the storms, I felt a calmness that didn’t come from me. It came from the One guiding me.

I began to understand that the challenges I feared were the very things meant to strengthen me. They were shaping me into someone wiser, stronger, softer, and more patient. Someone who could finally carry the purpose God created me for.

I imagined myself as clay in the hands of a perfect potter.

He pressed.

He shaped.

He carved.

He removed parts of me that didn’t belong.

He repaired places I had broken.

He restored me with a touch that felt both gentle and powerful.

Yes, it was uncomfortable sometimes. Yes, it stretched me in ways I didn’t want. But slowly, I began to see beauty in the process.

My heart became like gold repaired in the ancient art of kintsugi. Cracked, broken, healed, and shining even brighter through the lines of restoration.

And now, when I look at my life, I understand something I never understood before:

God was not trying to harm me. He was trying to save me. Save me from the life I thought I wanted. Save me from the pain I was creating for myself. Save me from a future that wasn’t meant for me.

So today, with a full heart, I say again:

“Not my will, but Yours be done.”

Amen.