I think one of the biggest surprises on this journey has been discovering that freedom didn’t arrive with fireworks. It didn’t come wrapped in one giant breakthrough or one emotional prayer where everything instantly changed. I wanted to wake up one morning and discover I simply didn’t care about wine anymore. Eureka! I wanted the cravings to disappear, my habits to change overnight, and my heart to magically prefer all the things I knew were good for me. Instead, God handed me something much slower and quieter.

There’s a verse in Lamentations that says God’s mercies are new every morning, and I used to read that with this vague sense of appreciation. “Isn’t that nice?” I’d think before moving on with my day. Now I read it completely differently. I think His mercies are new every morning because He knows that’s about as far ahead as most of us can faithfully see. We want next month. We want the guarantee that if we make this hard decision today, we’ll never struggle again. We want to know exactly how the story ends before we agree to take the first step. But that’s rarely how God invites us to live. He asks us to trust Him with today because today is all we actually have.

I remember calling a friend early on in my alcohol-free journey and saying something like, “I don’t know if I can do this forever.” She listened patiently and then asked me one simple question. “Jenn, who asked you to do it forever?” I laughed because the answer was obvious. Nobody had. Certainly not God. I was borrowing tomorrow’s worries and piling them on top of today’s decision until the whole thing felt impossible. That’s what fear loves to do. It zooms so far into the future that today’s tiny act of obedience suddenly feels like a lifetime sentence instead of one faithful choice. That’s a big reason why I tell women in our tribe, don’t stress about never or forever…that’s not the focus, even if it is the outcome.

Maybe that’s why Jesus said, “Do not worry about tomorrow.” I’ve always read those words as comfort, but lately I’ve started reading them as permission. Permission to stop carrying things I was never meant to carry. Permission to stop solving problems I haven’t actually been given yet. Permission to stop asking myself if I’ll be able to do this next Christmas or on the next vacation or at the next wedding, and instead simply ask, “Lord, what does faithfulness look like before lunch?” That question has been surprisingly life-giving because it’s almost always answerable.

Some days faithfulness looks incredibly ordinary. It looks like drinking the sparkling water and “staying in my own lane” when my husband chooses differently. It looks like taking Ollie for a walk when what I really want to do is sit on the couch convincing myself I’m too tired. It looks like putting my phone down so I can actually listen to the person sitting across from me instead of half-listening while scrolling through everyone else’s highlight reel. It looks like saying a quick prayer in the car before walking into an event where I know alcohol will be everywhere. None of those things make for a particularly exciting Instagram post, but they’ve quietly become the architecture of a life I genuinely love.

One of the women in our community told me recently, “Jenn, I keep waiting until I feel motivated.” I smiled because I knew exactly what she meant. I also knew she wasn’t really talking about motivation because that’s a fleeting feeling. She was talking about certainty. She wanted to know that if she took the hard step, she’d never regret it. She wanted assurance that if she started, she’d finish. She wanted confidence that she’d succeed before she risked trying. I don’t think she’s alone. I think most of us deeply seek certainty without even realizing it, actually it’s a part of our human hard wiring. So no judgment, just awareness because very few things are certain in this life. When we aim at certainty, we might call it wisdom or preparation, but sometimes it’s simply fear wearing a respectable outfit.

The older I get, the more convinced I become that God isn’t nearly as interested in our confidence as He is in our willingness. When I read the stories of Scripture, I don’t find many people who felt completely ready for what God asked them to do. Moses had excuses. Esther had fears. Peter had more enthusiasm than consistency, which honestly makes me love him even more. Over and over again, God worked through people who were willing long before they felt qualified. That gives me so much hope because willingness feels accessible. I may not wake up every morning feeling fearless, but I can wake up willing. I can pray, “Lord, I don’t have much today, but what I do have is Yours.”

That has quietly become one of my favorite prayers. Not because it’s poetic, but because it’s honest. There are mornings when I don’t feel particularly motivated to do the things I know are good for me. I don’t leap out of bed eager to tackle my to-do list. I don’t always feel excited to have the difficult conversation or write the article or exercise or do the next thing God has placed in front of me. But I’ve stopped asking Him to make me feel motivated. Instead, I find myself praying, “Lord, make me willing.” Somehow that prayer feels lighter. It leaves room for grace. It reminds me that this journey has never been about white-knuckling my way into a better life. It’s always been about walking with Him, one ordinary step at a time.

As I think back to a time before a recent workshop that I facilitated, I smile because I almost missed the lesson. I thought the story was about finding motivation before I clicked the “Go Live” button. It turns out the story was about remembering that motivation has never been the hero. Faithfulness is. Showing up and trusting God with the results. The same God who met me on the other side of that little click has met me on the other side of thousands of ordinary decisions over the last several years. He met me when I poured out the wine. He met me when I awkwardly walked into social events carrying sparkling water. He met me on lonely evenings, joyful mornings, ordinary Tuesdays, and more fresh starts than I can count. Looking back, I can see that my life wasn’t changed because I finally became the disciplined woman I’d always hoped to be. My life changed because, by God’s grace, I kept taking the next right step before I felt ready.

So maybe that’s what I want to leave with you this week.

If you’ve been waiting for motivation (feeling of being ready) to arrive before you begin, maybe you can stop waiting. If you’ve been assuming that everyone else feels more confident, more disciplined, or more certain than you do, maybe you can let that burden go. You don’t have to know what next year looks like. You don’t even have to know what next month looks like. You simply have to ask the question that’s been quietly changing my life for years now: What’s the next right thing?

Then take that step and trust that God will meet you there. And tomorrow morning, when His mercies are new all over again, ask the same question.

I’ve found that’s usually how freedom grows. Not all at once, but one faithful day at a time.

Until next time,

Jenn

P.S. If you're looking for women who will remind you to keep taking the next right step, I'd love to invite you into our free Sober Sis Community. Every week we encourage one another, learn together, and have honest conversations about what it looks like to live sober minded, one day at a time. We'd love to welcome you. 💛