When Spiritual Growth Feels Overwhelming
Okay, can we just be honest for a second?
I have a fully stocked kitchen. Like, embarrassingly stocked. Pantry organized (well, mostly). Freezer full. Fridge is doing its job. And yet there are nights, more nights than I’d like to admit, where I stand in front of the open refrigerator for a solid three minutes, cold air hitting my face, and walk away having decided absolutely nothing. Too many choices.
Not because there’s nothing to eat.
Because there’s too much to eat, and I can’t figure out where to start, so I just… don’t.
And then I feel vaguely guilty about it for the rest of the evening while everyone eats cereal for dinner.
Sound familiar? No? Just me? Now, I’m thoroughly embarrassed. (PS. I have another post about how I figured out my meal problem in a week or so.)
Here’s Where It Gets a Little Too Real
I was having one of those refrigerator moments a while back when it hit me — this is exactly what happens when I work on my spiritual life.
Not because I don’t care. I care deeply. And not because there’s nothing available to me. Resources are everywhere. Bible reading plans. Prayer journals. Devotionals for every season of life. Books about silence and solitude, books about boldness and mission, books about healing your past, books about stepping into your future. Podcasts. Studies. Conferences. Accountability partners. Church. Small group.
Most of it good. All of it probably beneficial. All of it sitting there like my overstocked refrigerator, waiting for me to do something with it.
Spiritually speaking, that looks like scrolling Instagram for twenty minutes instead of opening my Bible. Or starting a new devotional book, reading three days of it, and quietly setting it on the nightstand to gather dust with the other four I started this year. Or sitting down to pray and spending the first ten minutes just feeling vaguely guilty that I don’t pray more, and then running out of time before I actually pray.
Anyone?
No?
Still just me?
The Real Problem with Too Many Good Options
Here’s the thing about decision paralysis: it doesn’t feel like laziness from the inside. It feels overwhelming. And overwhelm has a sneaky way of disguising itself as being too busy, too tired, or just not ready yet.
Psychologists actually have a term for what happens when we’re faced with too many choices: the paradox of choice. More options should mean more freedom and better outcomes, right? But research shows that too many choices often lead to less satisfaction and less action.
We freeze.
We second-guess.
We do nothing rather than risk making the wrong call.
Now apply that to spiritual growth, and suddenly a lot of things make sense.
We’re not spiritually stagnant because we’re bad Christians. Sometimes we’re stagnant because we’re overwhelmed Christians — surrounded by more good options than we know what to do with, unable to choose, and quietly carrying the weight of feeling like we should be further along by now.
That weight is heavy, isn’t it?
What Actually Gets Dinner on the Table
You know what breaks me out of the refrigerator spiral? Constraints.
When I decide it’s a “use what’s in the pantry” night, suddenly I can cook. When I commit to “thirty-minute meals only this week,” I stop overthinking. When I pick one cuisine and stick to it, the fog lifts, and I’m actually useful in my own kitchen again.
Constraints feel limiting. But they’re actually freeing — because they take options off the table (pun fully intended) and let you focus on what’s actually in front of you.
Spiritually, this is the principle behind what the church has always called disciplines. Not as a system of earning God’s favor — that’s not what this is — but as a way of saying, I’m going to show up here, consistently, and let God work with that. Pick one thing. Just one. Read one psalm a day. Pray for five minutes every morning before you look at your phone. Memorize one verse a month. Keep it so small it feels almost embarrassingly simple.
Because here’s what I’ve learned: God does not require you to have a perfect spiritual growth plan. But He requires you to show up. The rest is His job.
“Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you.” — James 4:8
Not “optimize your approach to God.” Not “develop a comprehensive discipleship strategy.” Just draw near. Take one step. He’ll meet you there.
A Permission Slip, of Sorts
If you’ve been feeling stuck — like you know you want to grow, but you can’t figure out where to start, so you haven’t really started — I want to offer you something.
You have permission to do just one thing.
Not seven things. Not a whole new routine. Not the complete spiritual overhaul you’ve been planning since January. Just one small, consistent, unglamorous thing.
And you have permission to let that be enough for right now.
God isn’t up in heaven, frustrated that you haven’t read through the entire Bible yet or mastered intercessory prayer. He’s a loving Father watching you take a step toward Him, and that step, even the tiny, wobbly, uncertain one, delights Him.
Close all the tabs.
Pick one thing.
Show up.
Dinner doesn’t have to be complicated. And neither does this.
So What’s Your One Thing?
I’d love to know. Drop it in the comments. What’s the one small spiritual practice you’re committing to this season? Sometimes just saying it out loud (or typing it where someone else can see it) makes it real.
And if you have no idea what your one thing should be, that’s okay too. That might just mean it’s time to ask. (Which, funny enough, is a whole other post.)
God bless, and have a good day.
