I'm Doing Everything Right, So Why Do I Still Feel Behind?
Many years ago, Jason and I decided to tackle the Natureland Trust Trail at Caesars Head. I pictured a pleasant woodland stroll with maybe a stream, some birdsong, and a nice photo opportunity or two. What I got instead was 5.8 miles of "very strenuous" terrain that had me telling my husband, in complete seriousness, "Just leave me here. Save yourself."
I had done some research beforehand. I knew the trail existed. I knew its length. I knew people had hiked it successfully. I even packed water and wore my best hiking shoes. And yet, somewhere around mile three, blisters started to form, and my knees began to scream. I remember thinking, Why does this feel so much harder than I expected? I did everything right. I wore the appropriate clothing. I had all the proper gear. Yet, I still wondered if I was going to die on that trail.
Isn't that exactly how so many of us feel about our walk with the Lord some days? We picture the Christian life as this peaceful trail through the woods.
Quiet time with the Lord in the morning.
A verse that speaks to our heart.
A smooth day of victory over sin.
Maybe a little worship music on the drive to work.
But then, real life shows up. We blow up at our spouse over something ridiculous, like who forgot to take the bins out. We snap at a coworker who didn't deserve it. We throw ourselves a full-blown pity party by 2 pm, complete with snacks and self-loathing, even though we renewed our mind in the Word that very morning.
And here's the thought that sneaks in and refuses to leave: I have Jesus. I'm doing the "right" things. So why do I still feel like I'm nowhere near where I should be by now?
Friend, can I tell you something that took me entirely too long to learn? Nobody warned me that following Christ faithfully would still involve blisters. We've been sold this idea, even unintentionally, that if we're walking with Jesus correctly, the path will smooth out.
But Scripture never actually promises that. What it promises is that the trail leads somewhere good, even when the climbing is brutal.
Galatians 6:9 says, "And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not."
Notice that this verse assumes that doing well will be wearying. Paul doesn't say "if you do well you won't get tired." He assumes we'll get tired. The instruction isn't to avoid weariness; it's to keep going despite it, because the harvest is coming in due season, not our season.
That word "due" has been sitting with me lately. It means appointed, fixed, right on time. But according to Someone else's calendar, not mine. I want my spiritual growth to arrive on my timetable, preferably by Tuesday. But God's due season doesn't answer to my impatience.
Here's what I've had to accept about that trail, and about my walk with Jesus: the fact that it's hard doesn't mean I'm doing it wrong. It means I'm actually on it. An easy stroll wouldn't require faith. It wouldn't require leaning on Him when my own strength runs dry, which, let's be honest, happens roughly every day before lunch.
So, when you find yourself wondering if having Jesus is "enough" on a day when you still lost your temper, still felt jealous of your friend's easier life, and still cried in the car for no good reason, hear this: having Jesus was never meant to make the trail flat or easy. It was meant to make sure you don't walk it alone, and that you eventually arrive somewhere the blisters were worth it.
We made it to The Cathedral that day, a massive rock formation so awe-inspiring that we stood there speechless. Time stood still in the presence of such wonder. Every blister felt worth it in that moment.
I have to believe our spiritual blisters will feel the same way when we finally see His face. Until then, we keep climbing, weary but not giving up, because the season is coming...just not yet.
🔍 PULLING BACK THE CURTAIN: A Peek at the Study Behind This Post
This devotion actually started with a memory rather than fresh research. My mind recalled that brutal Natureland Trust Trail hike I'd written about before, but I knew there was a deeper angle I hadn't mined yet.
Step 1 – Start with the raw emotion, not the anecdote. Before touching Scripture, I named the exact feeling I wanted to address: the quiet shame of thinking "I have Jesus, so why isn't this easier?" That emotional target shaped every search that followed.
Step 2 – Search for verses about weariness, not victory. Most devotionals lean on "triumph" verses, so I deliberately searched cross-references using the word "weary" instead, which led me straight to Galatians 6:9.
Step 3 – Dig into the phrase "due season." I looked this up in Strong's and found it implies a fixed, appointed time—not immediate. That single detail became the theological backbone of the whole piece, tying directly into the "why am I not further along" frustration.
Step 4 – Test the verse against the anecdote. I asked myself, "Does the hike actually illustrate this verse, or am I forcing it?" The blisters-before-breakthrough structure of the trail matched perfectly, so I kept it; I almost swapped in a different memory, but this one fit best.
Step 5 – Guard against repeating old ground. Since I'd already written on religion versus relationship, I specifically avoided any language implying "you're just going through motions" and kept the focus on legitimate weariness despite genuine faithfulness.
Time: This one came together in about 35 minutes, mostly because the memory of the hike was already so vivid. Sometimes God does half your research for you years in advance!
If you've got an old memory or story sitting in your back pocket, try asking, "What emotion was I really feeling in that moment, and where does Scripture speak directly to that?" You might be surprised how a story you've already told can unlock a whole new devotion. Go dig!