Grateful but Restless? Faith, Discernment & Wanting Change

You Can Be Grateful and Still Want Something Different

Sometimes, you feel a certain guilt when you want change, even though nothing is actually wrong.

Your job is fine. Picture having supportive coworkers, a manageable workload, and feeling valued for your work. You are not struggling or eager to leave. Still, sometimes you wonder what it would be like to try something new, even though nothing is wrong.

Maybe you have people in your life whom you love.

There are parts of your life you would genuinely miss.

Even if you can list many things you’re grateful for, you might still find yourself scrolling through job ads, picturing new hours, new work, and new versions of your life.

It can feel almost ungrateful.

Shouldn’t gratitude make us feel content?

Doesn’t being grateful for what we have quiet those thoughts about what else we might want?

I don’t think that anymore.

Sometimes, we mix up gratitude with the idea of staying in one place forever.

It can feel like appreciating something means you’ve promised to stay forever.

It can seem like loving people means you should never leave.

It can seem that if we acknowledge God’s goodness in one period of time, then God must not be guiding us toward another.

The Bible is full of instances of people who had to relocate. Abraham set out from his homeland without knowing where God would lead him. Ruth left everything familiar to follow Naomi, trusting in a future she could not see. Even the disciples were called to leave their nets and step toward something new.

These were people who left familiar places without knowing exactly where they were going.

They were called away from things that weren’t necessarily bad.

They had to trust that the God who was with them here would also be with them wherever they went.

Maybe that’s what I need to remember.

God’s faithfulness isn’t tied to me keeping everything the same.

I’m grateful for the past and curious about the future.

I can love where I am and still admit there’s a restlessness inside me.

I appreciate the people who have shaped this season, but that doesn’t mean I have to stay involved forever.

I can even apply for a new job without being sure I want to leave.

That last part feels important.

Discernment doesn’t always come with certainty. Sometimes, listening for God’s guidance means pausing and reflecting on purpose. I take a few minutes each day to write in a journal about where I’ve felt peace or restlessness, gratitude or longing. I make space to pray or just sit quietly with my thoughts, noticing any patterns or gentle nudges that come up. These small spiritual practices help me pay attention to my life and to how God might be moving in my circumstances.

It often starts with curiosity.

A job posting.

A conversation.

An idea you just can’t get out of your head.

A small voice asking, “What if?”

Perhaps faithfulness doesn’t mean immediately knowing the answer.

It could simply mean being willing to explore the question.

When we are trying to work out what God would have us do, we tend to talk a great deal about “open doors.” We pray for clear signs and would like God to swing one door wide open, close another firmly, and, if possible, hang a flashing neon arrow above the right option.

That would be convenient.

The few instances in which I have experienced God have not been very convenient.

Most of the time, discernment involves taking a single small step and giving it attention.

Send the application.

Have the conversation.

Ask the question.

Update the résumé.

Imagine the possibility.

Pray.

Wait.

None of those things mean we are obliged to leave the life we already have.

They simply create enough space in our lives to listen.

Maybe that’s what this season is asking of me—not a big change, but just a little more space.

I might ask myself what kind of work gives me energy.

I think about what kind of days I want to have.

I give myself room to notice which gifts I haven’t used in a while.

I make space to recognize that my needs have changed.

I give myself the chance to ask God a question without needing an immediate answer.

I still believe in staying where I am. But there’s just as much faith in exploring something new.

Most of us live in that strange, uncomfortable, and holy space between the two.

If you find yourself feeling thankful but restless, rooted but curious, content in some ways and longing in others, I don’t think you need to rush to find an answer. It can help to talk with a trusted friend or faith leader about what you’re noticing and wondering. Sometimes, discernment grows stronger when others walk with you, offering support, insight, and prayer.

You don’t have to make your current life unpleasant just to justify wanting something different.

You don’t need to know where you’re going before you start noticing what’s stirring inside you.

You don’t have to apologize to God for wondering.

Maybe the prayer for this season isn’t:

O God, tell me what I should do.

Maybe it’s simply:

God, help me notice.

Notice what gives life.

Notice what drains it.

Notice the possibilities that keep coming up.

Notice what is fear.

Notice what is wisdom.

Help me notice when I’m holding on to something because I love it, and when I’m holding on simply because it’s familiar.

Give me enough peace to remain when it’s time to stay.

Give me the courage to go when it’s time to leave.

And while I am somewhere in between,

help me believe that you are here as well.

Almost prayer:
God, I am grateful for what has been, curious about what might be, and not entirely sure what comes next. Meet me somewhere between staying and going, and help me pay attention. Amen.

Inspired by the Tiredness Haze

There’s a special satisfaction in finally finishing something that has been on your mind for a long time.

This week, I finally finished my Lenten devotional guides, When the Light Breaks Through.

I keep looking at them and thinking, I really did it.

A Participant Workbook is now available, along with a Facilitator’s Guide. There are six sessions with Scripture, reflection, prayer, conversation, and practices to guide people through Lent. What began as an idea, something I kept writing, changing, and imagining, is now finally finished. If you are interested, I invite you to use these guides this Lent or share them with someone who might find them meaningful. It would mean a lot to know my work is accompanying others on their journey.

Or at least, it’s finished enough to share with others, since anyone who creates knows there’s always one more change we could make.

However, I'm saying it's finished.

That's really pleasant.

What's odd is that I made it when I was tired.

I wasn't the kind of person who stayed up too late last night and therefore felt tired.

The deeper kind.

The sort in which you wake up and right away begin working out when you might be able to get some more sleep.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about rest, especially how much I need it and how hard it can be to actually get. One thing I try to do, even when life feels busy, is to take five quiet minutes with a cup of tea and simply sit by the window. Sometimes, I close my eyes or watch the clouds drift by. It’s a small practice, but for a few moments, I let myself step away from my to-do list. That tiny pause, as ordinary as it is, helps me remember what rest feels like, just enough to keep going. I also put my cellphone upstairs, away from me, so I am not tempted to look at it.

At times I find myself thinking that when I've completed this project I'll take a rest.

Then another idea comes.

Perhaps something requires attention.

Or home needs attention.

Or someone needs me.

Or sometimes, I might suddenly feel inspired.

What has surprised me lately is this.

I feel tired. I also feel inspired.

It turns out those two things can happen at the same time.

Inspiration doesn't always hold off until we're well-rested.

I have never consciously regarded creativity as something that occurs when all the other aspects are in order.

I'll get down to writing when I have a quiet afternoon.

I will write when my mind is clear.

I'll look out for God once I've got enough rest to pay attention.

I plan to start that idea when life slows down. Yet life doesn’t seem very interested in slowing down.

Recently, ideas have managed to reach me.

They've arrived during the period of tiredness haze.

A sentence here.

An idea there.

I now want to create something.

A thought which I don't want to lose.

A small spark causes me to reach for my phone or notebook and write, 'What if...'?

I’ve started to wonder if inspiration really only comes after we’ve rested.

Sometimes, a little light finds us even when we’re still tired.

That seems particularly appropriate given the title of the study, 'When the Light Breaks Through'.

This could be what light breaking through looks like.

Not everything suddenly becoming easy.

Not waking up with a limitless amount of energy.

Not having found a perfect balance between work, family, creativity, faith, and rest.

Light finding a chance to get through.

A fresh idea after you had thought that your brain was finished.

A feeling of excitement regarding something you are creating.

The pleasure you feel when a project finally comes together.

A laugh that suddenly surprises you.

You almost missed a beautiful moment.

A reminder that even if you are tired, a part of you stays attentive.

Something is still wondering.

Something is still creating.

People are still reaching towards God.

There’s something sacred about it.

I would also dislike romancing exhaustion. For me, healthy perseverance means honoring commitment and following inspiration—but not at the expense of my well-being. I am learning to notice when continuing to push forward feels meaningful and life-giving, and when it starts to cross into unhealthy overwork. Sometimes, the best thing I can do is step back, rest, and trust that not everything has to get done right now. Recognizing these boundaries isn’t always easy, but it matters. I hope you’ll reflect on what this looks like for you, too.

I still need rest.

That’s the part I want to hold on to.

Feeling inspired does not mean I can keep going without a break.

Just because I can keep going does not mean I should.

Just because you create something beautiful when you’re tired doesn’t mean tiredness is the price you have to pay to be creative.

I don’t want to make being tired sound like a spiritual achievement.

Sometimes the truly sensible thing is to close the laptop.

Put down the phone.

Leave the idea unfinished.

Take the nap.

Say no.

Go to bed.

Let tomorrow’s work wait for tomorrow.

I’m still learning that.

Maybe you are too.

There’s always something else we could be doing.

For those of us who love creating, serving, helping, dreaming, or making things happen, sometimes it’s harder to stop than to keep going. That’s why it matters that we encourage each other to rest, too. We can remind one another to pause, celebrate what's finished, and care for ourselves. Maybe we can gently check in with friends or colleagues, sharing not just plans and progress, but also reminding each other that it’s okay—even necessary—to slow down. Offering support and accountability in this way can help all of us honor our limits and choose rest together.

I am celebrating and at the same time attempting to get some rest.

I’m celebrating these guides.

I’m celebrating the strange and wonderful fact that what was once just a bunch of separate ideas is now real. Inspiration continues to appear, even though I sometimes feel as if I'm moving through a fog.

And I’m also listening to the part of me that keeps whispering:

You need rest, too.

Both may be true.

We might be very inspired and yet very tired.

Maybe we can celebrate what we’ve accomplished without immediately asking ourselves what’s next. It doesn’t always have to be a call to do more.

It can be a sign that light is still breaking through.

So today, I’m trying to accept both things:

The gift of inspiration and the gift of rest.

I haven't worked out the balance yet.

Maybe faith isn’t about figuring everything out.

Sometimes, maybe faith is just noticing the light when it comes,

despite the haze of tiredness.

An Almost Prayer for the Tired and Inspired

God,

thank you for the ideas
that somehow find me
even when I’m tired.

Thank you for the little sparks,
the things that make me curious,
the work that feels meaningful,
and the joy of finally saying,
I finished it.

But remind me
That I am worth more than what I produce.

Teach me to recognize
when inspiration is inviting me forward
and when love is calling on me to rest.

Let me trust that I don’t have to chase
every good idea today.

Some things can wait.

And when the tiredness feels heavy,
help me notice the light
that is still breaking through.

Amen.