Write Transformed: When Abiding Stopped Being a Discipline

What I didn’t expect in the middle of writing a book about staying close to Jesus

Once a month, I’ll be sharing a voice that reflects what it means to live, write, and create transformed.

Christine’s piece immediately resonated with me because it captures something I think many of us quietly wrestle with. The difference between doing things for Jesus and truly being with Him.

As someone who often writes and teaches about surrender, creativity, and slowing down enough to notice God’s presence, this felt like such a timely reminder that abiding was never meant to become another performance metric.

I hope her words encourage you the way they encouraged me.

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You can do all the right things with Jesus and still miss Him entirely.

I was reminded of that one morning while writing my latest book. I had already had my quiet time. Read my Bible passage. Prayed through my list. Closed my notebook with that familiar sense of a box dutifully checked and moved to my desk to write.

Keeping Company with Jesus is rooted in John 15 and Jesus’ simple, radical invitation to stay close. The chapter that morning was about lingering. About what it means to not just show up but stay.

I had been at my desk about twenty minutes, writing about unhurried presence, when I stopped mid-paragraph. Because the woman writing about unhurried presence had been rushing all morning. Not only at the keyboard. In the recliner, too.

I had shown up. I had read. I had prayed. I had done all the things for Jesus that morning. What I had not done was sit at His feet, truly captivated by His every word, the way Mary did.

That was the moment something shifted in me. I had been trying to discipline my way into abiding. It wasn’t working.

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After writing Peace Beyond Perfection, a question followed me around: If I am not striving anymore, what am I doing instead? The answer arrived as my word for 2025. Abide. That single word led me straight to John 15, and straight into this book.

But old patterns die hard.

For most of my life, I have been a woman who tries. Show up early. Do the reading. Pray longer. Serve harder. If spiritual depth was what I wanted, the plan was simple: more of everything.

This was, I can now admit, also the approach I initially brought to the page. I would get up, open the document, and produce. I would research, outline, and revise. I would be a diligent, on-schedule writer of a book about resting in Jesus.

The irony wasn’t lost on me.

But somewhere in the middle of writing, something began to change in my mornings. I was still getting up early but no longer out of duty. I was showing up because I wanted to.

Not to write. To be with Him.

Those first still minutes had stopped being the warm-up act before the real work of the day. By the time my eyes opened in the morning, He was already the first thing on my mind.

* * *

Here is what I had gotten wrong for years. I thought discipline was the engine. Sit down, keep the appointment, and deeper communion would follow. It was a decent plan. But it was backward.

Somewhere in the months of writing and praying, something in me became slowly, thoroughly captivated. Not by the project, but by Him.

I didn’t make it happen. I didn’t read a better book, or try a better method, or muscle my way into deeper devotion. He did it. He drew me. The same way He had been drawing me all along, while I was too busy being disciplined to notice.

Once I noticed, the whole frame shifted. I longed for extended mornings with Jesus, not because I was supposed to, but because He was there, and there was nowhere I would rather be.

* * *

I think this might be what Jesus was pointing toward in John 15. Branches don’t strain to draw life from the vine. They simply stay put, and life flows in on its own. It’s only when we try to abide in our own strength that abiding starts to feel like work.

I have spent many years as a straining branch.

What I’ve learned this past year is that trying so often gets in the way of receiving. We can’t force ourselves into intimacy with Jesus any more than we can force a fruit tree to bloom on command. But when we slow down and let Him near, something in us begins, almost without notice, to want Him more than anything.

So if you have been trying harder and feeling further away, the invitation might not be to do more.

It might be to stop doing, just long enough for Him to captivate you.

He is not out ahead of you, waiting for you to catch up. He is already here, keeping company with you.

All you have to do is stay.

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Reflection

Have you ever found yourself trying to “discipline” your way into abiding?

• Have your quiet times become connection… or just completion?

• What helps you slow down enough to notice God’s presence?

• Where might God be inviting you to stop striving and simply remain?

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A special thank you to Christine for being the first featured voice in this series and for sharing so honestly about her journey. I think many of us will see ourselves somewhere in these words—the longing to stay close to Jesus without turning that closeness into another thing to achieve.

Christine and I first met several years ago at the SpeakUp Conference, in Michigan. Since then, we’ve stayed connected through social media and Substack.

I’ve always been drawn to messages about slowing down, living unhurried, and learning how to stop striving and start abiding. Honestly, unlearning the frenzied, fast-paced lifestyle of our culture can sometimes feel impossible… which is why I’m especially excited about her newly released book, Keeping Company with Jesus: Finding Peace in His Presence (Beatitudes Publishing).

It just released this past week, and I can’t wait to dive in and share more nuggets with you along the way. Be sure to grab a copy and support Christine and her beautiful message. 💜