Recently, I was scrolling through one of my favorite websites for Christian books, and I was struck by how many were framed with themes like “Radical Obedience,” “Sold Out,” “Fully Surrendered,” and “On Fire for Jesus.” The message in each of them was clear: try harder, do more, and sacrifice all for the Kingdom.
We often applaud the missionaries who give up their whole lives while serving out in the field, pastors who never take a break, and believers who never seem to waver! Their stories inspire us, but they also reinforce a dangerous idea: that the more we give, the more we matter. These examples frame faithfulness in absolute terms—it’s either all, or it’s nothing.
Somewhere along the line, we begin to believe that performance is proof of love, and we equate busyness with faithfulness. So, we start building our entire identities around doing for Jesus—while quietly wondering if we’re ever truly enough.
Yes, Scripture makes it clear that there is a radical cost to discipleship. We read things like: “Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me” (Matthew 10:38), “No one who puts their hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the Kingdom of God” (Luke 9:62), and “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13).
But where faith is driven by extremes, that call is often twisted—distorted into a version of Christianity that feels more like a burden than a gift of grace—one characterized by perfectionism and performance.
Consider this: Peter was radical in all the ways we tend to applaud:
- He made bold declarations: “I’ll never deny you!”
- He demonstrated acts of courage: pulling his sword, ready to fight!
- He had passion, emotion, loyalty, intensity…
But then—Jesus says, “Put the sword away.” And suddenly, the framework for Peter’s faith collapses.
Peter knew how to fight.
But he didn’t yet know how to yield.
He knew how to take a passionate stand.
But not how to sit still—in weakness, in confusion, in surrender.
Why This Resonates So Deeply
Think back to when Jesus first called Peter.
Peter, Andrew, James, and John had been out fishing all night… and they caught nothing. In defeat, they returned to shore and began cleaning their nets. Due to the large crowds that were following him, Jesus stepped onto Simon’s boat in order to teach them. There, he instructed Peter to put out into deeper waters, and then asked them to let down the nets again.
Though he initially resisted, he eventually agreed. Suddenly, their nets were filled with such a large number of fish that they began to break under the weight. Overwhelmed, they called their friends over to help—and there were so many fish that the boats began to sink.
When they came back to shore, how did Peter respond?
He collapsed at Jesus’ knees and said, “Depart from me, Lord! I am a sinful man!”
None of the others responded this way—so, why did Peter?
While his words were technically accurate—Peter was a sinner and was unworthy of being in Christ’s presence—they didn’t reflect how Jesus felt about him.
Jesus wasn’t shaming Peter for his sin. Peter was shaming himself! Why?
For whatever reason, Peter had internalized his shame, and it shaped the way he saw himself. As long as he was contributing, he felt valuable. But beneath all his passion was a deeper truth: he was hiding behind his performance to avoid being seen as vulnerable—masking his needs, his fears, and his sense of unworthiness.
So now, when grace shows up—underserved and unearned—he doesn’t know how to receive it. In his shame, he expects rejection… because that’s what shame says: “There’s no way you can truly belong!”
Many Christians battle that same cycle today. It’s a vicious trap—and their spiritual identities are on the line!
Notice the pattern—
- “If I’m not doing great things for God, am I still valuable to Him?”
- “If I slow down, does that mean I’m not really giving all?”
- “If I’m not always all-in, maybe I’m just lukewarm.”
It raises the haunting question: When is enough, enough?
Notice, Jesus never said, “Live worthy of your salvation”—as if we even could. No, salvation is by grace, through faith.
Instead, He says—
- “Blessed are the poor in spirit—the spiritually bankrupt—for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 5:3)
- “Come to Me, all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)
- “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)
Don’t Miss This!
The sobering truth I am often reminded of is this—it’s entirely possible to do all the right things for Christ, and still completely miss Him. Eternal life isn’t about performance. It’s about knowing God and knowing Jesus—it’s about relationship. It means choosing the best thing (presence) over the good things (performance). It’s about resting in the work He’s already done… and letting that shape our identity.
What If You Didn’t Have to Hide Anymore?
What if you were allowed to be fully known—where even the deepest, darkest parts of you and your story weren’t just tolerated, but welcomed?
What if the invitation wasn’t “clean yourself up,” but “Come to Me… just as you are”?
What if grace isn’t something you have to earn—but something you finally let yourself receive?
Let down your mask.
You don’t have to carry that anymore.
You don’t have to pretend you’re not tired.
You don’t have to prove you’re enough.
You don’t have to strive for belonging that’s already been given.
Jesus didn’t come for the polished version of you.
He came for you. The real you.
And He isn’t ashamed to be seen with you—even in the darkest places you most want to hide.
The Good News is This—
I am—because of Jesus—fully known and fully loved.
I am favored by God.
I am delighted in as His son.
And He rejoices over me with singing and dancing… simply because I am His.
So breathe this in today (and everyday): “Cease striving and know… that I am God, and I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth” (Psalm 46:10, emphasis added).
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