G=Goals O=Outlook A=Authentic T=Truth (#coateisaGOAT)
Sweet friend, this prayer journey is changing me.
Not with lightning bolts or dramatic moments. Not because every prayer has been answered or every circumstance has suddenly fallen into place. Instead, it’s been quieter than that. More like the Lord gently pulling back layer after layer of my heart and showing me things I didn’t even realize I was carrying.
This week, He showed me something that has been true about me for as long as I can remember.
I am a fixer.
My brain works at a pace that doesn’t always serve me well. Somewhere along the way, I developed this deeply rooted belief that if there is a problem—in a relationship, in a situation, or in the space between me and someone I love—then it’s my responsibility to identify it, address it, and resolve it.
Quickly. Now!
There is an urgency inside of me that often feels impossible to ignore. If something feels broken, I want to fix it. If someone is hurting, I want to make it better. If a relationship feels strained, my mind immediately begins searching for the answer.
The problem is…most of the situations that occupy my heart didn’t happen overnight. Some have been building for years. Some are the result of decades of experiences, hurts, misunderstandings, or choices. Some belong to someone else’s story altogether.
Yet somehow, my brain convinces me that if I just think hard enough, pray hard enough, say the right thing, or show up exactly the right way, I should be able to create change today.
And when I can’t…That’s when my internal dialogue turns against me. Why haven’t you fixed this yet? Why isn’t it getting better? What are you doing wrong?
This week, the Lord has been incredibly gentle as He’s reminded me of something I needed to hear. A lot of what I’m trying to fix isn’t actually mine to fix. That realization has been both freeing and humbling.
So much of the real estate in my mind is occupied by other people’s choices, other people’s emotions, other people’s responses, and other people’s healing.
And the truth is, I’ve never had control over any of those things.
What I often label as a “problem” is simply the reality of living in a world full of beautifully imperfect people—including myself.
People are human. We’re complicated. We carry wounds. We have bad days. We’re inconsistent. We misunderstand one another. And that’s not something I can solve.
As I’ve continued this prayer challenge, I’ve realized that maybe what really needs changing isn’t always the situation. Maybe it’s my perspective.
Instead of asking God to hurry, maybe He’s inviting me to slow down. Instead of asking Him to change someone else, maybe He’s asking me to become more disciplined.
Disciplined in my prayer life. Disciplined in spending time in His Word. Disciplined in stewarding the gifts, responsibilities, and relationships He’s already placed in front of me instead of becoming consumed by the things I cannot control.
Most of all, I’ve been praying for wisdom. Not wisdom to fix people. Not wisdom to control outcomes. But wisdom to see situations for what they truly are instead of what my anxious heart perceives them to be.
And somewhere in the middle of all of this, another truth has settled deep into my heart. I think I’ve spent much of my life looking for something in earthly relationships that only the Lord can actually provide. Not just in marriage. In friendships. In family. In work.
In every place where I’ve quietly hoped someone else’s approval, consistency, affection, or understanding would finally convince me that I was enough.
Looking back, I think that pattern started long before adulthood. As a little girl, I learned that if I behaved well enough, pleased people enough, anticipated everyone else’s needs, or simply became whoever someone else needed me to be, then maybe I could influence how they felt. Maybe I could earn acceptance. Maybe I could prevent disappointment. Maybe I could make people stay.
Those were survival skills then. But they aren’t meant to become lifelong burdens. Because no person—no matter how much they love us—can carry the weight of being everything we’re searching for.
People are imperfect. People get tired. People have wounds of their own. People disappoint us, just as we disappoint them.
When we ask another human being to fill the space that only our Heavenly Father was designed to fill, we’re setting ourselves up for a cycle of disappointment.
Only He can love perfectly. Only He never abandons. Only He fully knows every fear, every flaw, every messy tendency, every anxious thought—and still chooses us.
This prayer journey is teaching me something I knew in my head but am finally beginning to believe in my heart. I am fearfully and wonderfully made. The Father who created me knows exactly how my brain works. He knows I can overthink. He knows I rush. He knows I carry responsibilities that were never mine to carry. He knows I sometimes confuse urgency with faithfulness.
And yet…He loves me completely. Not after I get everything figured out. Not after I become more disciplined. Not after I finally stop struggling with these same patterns.
Right now.
Exactly as I am. He isn’t disappointed in the pace of my growth. He isn’t frustrated that He’s teaching me lessons I’ve probably needed to learn for years. He simply invites me to come closer. To trust Him more. To release what was never mine to hold.
And maybe that’s where peace begins. Not in finally fixing everything.Not in controlling outcomes. Not in making everyone around us happy. But in resting in the truth that the One who created us is already working for our good.
His timing has never been late. His love has never been conditional. His plans have never depended on my ability to force an outcome.
So this week, my prayer remains simple. Lord, give me wisdom to see situations for what they are—not what I fear them to be. Give me the discipline to stay in Your Word. Give me the faith to trust Your timing over my urgency. Help me notice the ways You’re already moving instead of becoming consumed with trying to move everything myself.
Because here’s what this prayer journey continues to confirm week after week. He is working. Always. Even when I can’t see it. Even when I don’t understand it. Even when I wish He would move faster.
And maybe that’s the invitation for you this week, too, sweet friend. Slow down. Take a deep breath. Release the burden you’ve been carrying that was never yours to carry in the first place. Look for the ways the Lord is already showing up. Trust that He is working for your good, even when His timeline doesn’t match your own. You don’t have to fix it. You simply have to trust the One who can.
Until next week, sweet friend.
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