As we grow into adulthood, life becomes relentlessly busy. Fatigue creeps in, and our days fill with never-ending responsibilities. Many of us were taught from childhood to complete one task before beginning another—a discipline meant to instill focus, but one that can hinder us in adulthood, especially when juggling multiple ongoing goals.
For creatives, this tension can be particularly draining. Art, writing, music—these are not tasks we can “complete” in a single sitting. They require revisiting, patience, and flexibility. Yet, a persistent inner voice nags us: “You’re not finished.” Added to this is our all-too-human tendency to procrastinate or let motivation fade. Ironically, the very things that make us feel whole and empowered—spiritual practice, creative expression, community—are the things we struggle to prioritize.
We don’t always make time for these pursuits. Why? Partly because we were raised to delay gratification, to earn rest and joy. And partly because, with time, not doing becomes habitual.
Today I was struck by something humbling: even when we forget to make time for God, He does not forget us. He continues to reach for us—in quiet ways, often unnoticed, sometimes uncomfortable. Scripture reminds us of His persistence: “Behold, I stand at the door and knock” (Revelation 3:20, ESV). He waits not with condemnation but with patient love, like a wise elder amused by the stubbornness of youth.
For years I questioned God’s existence. I was surrounded by trauma, loss, and despair. I couldn’t understand how a loving God could allow such atrocities. I hated myself, tried to become someone else—anyone else.
Yet here I am now, living in light. I don’t mean frivolous blessings, but meaningful ones. When my car breaks down, I somehow have the people and finances to resolve it. It’s still stressful—but it’s a blessing nonetheless. When I stop hiding and start acting, even when uncomfortable, I receive what I need to go further: tools, connections, resources. The result is both energizing and deeply humbling.
I’ve accepted that I'm a scatterbrain and I struggle to focus on multiple areas of life simultaneously. I’m still learning how to make time for the things that matter—God included.
Lately, I’ve been dodging scripture app ads on my phone. They flash by, stirring a discomfort that borders on pain. Church friends drop in with flyers and invites, which I politely avoid. But this morning, I sat in church and something shifted. The message wasn’t general—it was for me. It felt like the room faded away, and the pastor spoke only to me, not as a scolder, but as a loving messenger.
The words I heard were not from a man—they were God’s. They said: I am loved. I am seen. I am not a disappointment. God is not ashamed of me. He’s just waiting for me to stop avoiding Him.
This doesn’t mean I’ve suddenly accepted all traditional portrayals of God. I don’t believe He exists only within the narrow confines built by human imagination. As theologian Karen Armstrong suggests, many of our religious symbols are “finger pointing at the moon,” not the moon itself (Armstrong 10). To expect a perfect image of God to be crafted by flawed humans is, perhaps, missing the point.
Still, I believe evil exists. I’ve seen it. But how could we recognize goodness without the contrast of evil? As Isaiah 45:7 reminds us, “I form the light and create darkness, I bring prosperity and create disaster; I, the Lord, do all these things.” We must grapple with that mystery.
Darkness is the absence of light, but it also teaches us to value its return.
So here’s what I’m learning to do: unlearn the habits of perfectionism and delay taught in childhood, and relearn a better, more balanced way of living. A way where I make time—not just for responsibilities, but for restoration. For joy. For faith. For myself.
Whether you’re wrestling with your beliefs, recovering from trauma, skipping the gym, or eating chocolate instead of carrots—it doesn’t matter. Your health, happiness, and well-being are worth the time it takes to nurture them.
God isn’t asking us to be perfect. He’s asking us to be present.
Works Cited
Armstrong, Karen. The Case for God. Knopf, 2009.
The Bible. English Standard Version. Crossway Bibles, 2001.
(Relevant verses: Revelation 3:20, Isaiah 45:7)
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