Stop Waiting for a Different Life and Start Living Yours

Part 3 of 4

We've been talking about why people stay stuck. Now I want to talk directly to those of you who have realized: It's me. I'm stuck.

First, I want you to know that God has tremendous compassion for you. Some of you have experienced real loss. The most terrible loss.

A marriage that isn't what you dreamed it would be. A husband who died. A relationship you desperately want to work, but it doesn't. The children you thought you'd have. The family you pictured. The life you assumed would be yours by now.

Those aren't small things. They deserve to be grieved. Your life may be harder in very real ways than the life of the person you're comparing yourself to.

I know because I've had to grieve some of these things too. I pictured a very different life for myself. I thought I would marry young. I thought I would have children. I thought my life would follow a traditional path.

It didn't. And there was real grief in accepting that.

But friend, there may come a point when you don't need more compassion alone. You may have received it from God, from people, and perhaps even from yourself, yet you still aren't moving.

Sometimes what we call compassion becomes permission to keep putting our lives on hold.

You may need a push. A little reality check. So here it is.

Grief must make room for acceptance

If you want to get unstuck, your grief must make room for acceptance. That doesn't mean grief disappears or follows a deadline. It means you begin living even while you carry the loss.

What happened matters. It was painful. You were allowed to want something different. But you cannot build a beautiful life while continually arguing with the one you actually have.

Ecclesiastes 3 tells us there is “a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.” There is a time to mourn. There are losses that require us to sit in the sadness, tell the truth about what we wanted, and allow ourselves to grieve what wasn't.

But there is also a time to dance.

There comes a point when we have to begin moving from “This isn't how it was supposed to be” toward “This is what is. The Lord has not forgotten me. Lord, teach me how to faithfully live here. Teach me how to find joy in this life.”

Acceptance isn't giving up. It isn't saying what happened was good or fair. Acceptance is releasing our demand that reality be different before we begin to live. It can also mean taking action to change what we can, including setting boundaries or seeking help in a harmful relationship.

And for some of you, this is exactly where you've gotten stuck.

We're waiting for the husband to change. Waiting for the relationship to heal. Waiting for someone to finally understand us. Waiting for the apology. Waiting for marriage. Waiting for children. Waiting for the picture-perfect family. Waiting for our story to finally become the story we thought God was going to write.

And meanwhile, your actual life is happening.

Ladies, we cannot keep doing this.

Paul writes in Philippians 3:13–14, “Forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal...”

Paul is describing his pursuit of Christ. His words also remind me that there is a life of faithfulness ahead of us. There are seasons for looking backward, grieving, and understanding what happened. But there is also a time to turn our eyes forward and say, “This is my life. God is with me. God is good. Lord, help me embrace my reality and live faithfully here.”

When a relationship becomes too important

Some of you are stuck because your emotional life has become deeply tied to another person—a man, a parent, a child.

Their choices. Their mood. Their approval. Their healing. Their relationship with God. Their willingness to change. Whether they understand you. Whether they finally become who you desperately want them to be.

You are stuck because you are waiting for them.

And somewhere along the way, that relationship may have become too important. Maybe even an idol.

That's uncomfortable language, I know. But idols aren't simply statues we bow down to. An idol can be anything we begin looking to for something ultimately only God can provide: our security, identity, worth, peace, hope, or sense that everything is going to be okay.

And yes, we can make idols of our families.

I wonder how often we're so focused on what God didn't give us—or what another person isn't giving us—that we don't even open ourselves to what God wants to give us.

Sometimes the person we're desperately trying to change has quietly become the person we're depending on to make our life okay.

Friend, they cannot carry that weight. And you cannot keep putting your life on hold waiting for them to become someone different.

What do you actually do if you are stuck

1. Tell the truth about what you have lost

Grieve it. Cry. Journal. Talk to someone wise. Tell God exactly what you wanted and exactly how disappointed you are that you didn't get it.

The Psalms give us permission to do this over and over again. David didn't sanitize his disappointment before bringing it to God. Biblical faith has never required pretending.

But honoring your grief and putting your life on hold indefinitely are not the same thing.

2. Accept what is actually true today

Not what might happen. Not what you wish would happen. Not what someone promised would happen.

What is true right now?

This is my marriage. This is my family. This is my season. This is what happened. This is what I cannot change. And this is what I can change.

Acceptance begins when we stop negotiating with reality.

Paul learned this. He said, “I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content” (Philippians 4:11).

Notice that he said learned. Contentment wasn't automatic. It wasn't dependent on finally getting the circumstances he wanted. It was something God taught him in the middle of circumstances he couldn't control.

3. Release the people you are trying to change

You can love them. Pray for them. Encourage them. Set boundaries with them. Speak truth to them.

But you cannot make another adult become healthy. And you certainly cannot make their transformation a prerequisite for your own.

Romans 12:18 says, “If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.”

I love that phrase: so far as it depends on you.

Do your part. Take responsibility for your choices, your healing, your obedience, your attitude, your boundaries, and your relationship with God.

Then release what doesn't belong to you.

4. Ask whether you have made the dream or relationship an idol

This one requires courage.

“Lord, have I decided I cannot be happy unless this changes? Have I made another person's choices responsible for my peace? Am I refusing to participate in my life because I'm still demanding the life I wanted?”

Psalm 16:5 says, “The LORD is my chosen portion and my cup; you hold my lot.”

Can we really say that?

Lord, You are my portion. Not the marriage. Not the children. Not the perfect family. Not someone's approval. Not the life I pictured.

You.

Those are hard prayers. But countless children of God have had to pray them, and freedom often follows that surrender.

5. Start living again

Call the friend. Join the group. Take the class. Plan the trip. Serve somewhere. Move your body. Clean the room. Read the book. Apply for the job. Go to church. Make something beautiful. Laugh again. Find real or new community.

Do the next faithful thing available to you.

You do not need your entire life figured out before you begin participating in it again.

And perhaps most importantly, stop waiting to feel ready.

Often, obedience comes before emotion. Sometimes we take the step while we're still sad. Sometimes acceptance is something we practice before it's something we feel.

Hebrews 12:1 tells us to “lay aside every weight... and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us.”

Notice that Scripture doesn't tell us to run the race we wish had been set before us. We run the race that is actually ours.

Your life may not look like the life you imagined. Mine doesn't either.

But different does not mean ruined.

There is joy, beauty, connection, belonging, meaning, work, satisfaction, and love to be found. And not some kind of second-rate version of it.

The goodness and fullness of God are not limited to the version of our story we originally wrote for ourselves. They're not limited to the American Dream.

There is life here. There is purpose here. There is beauty here. There is Jesus here.

But at some point, friend, we have to stop waiting for a different life and start faithfully living the one we've been given.

And maybe for you, that starts today.