In April, I resigned from a job I’d had for almost ten years. A job I loved with incredible coworkers. It was an excruciating decision, and if I’m honest, it was three years overdue.
That’s how long I knew God was nudging me into something new.
I had outgrown my role and become chronically discontent. But I refused to give up. I saw each challenge as an opportunity to persevere. I put my head down and told myself this is just part of working in vocational ministry. After all, isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?
But when I was alone and truly honest with myself, I knew perseverance wasn’t the only reason I was staying. I was scared to leave. Scared of being perceived as a failure, of being another ministry leader who gave up and tapped out.
I’d heard that when marathon runners aren’t able to finish, there’s a small bus that follows the group and picks up those who can’t make it to the finish line. I remember hearing that illustration and being overwhelmed with panic. I desperately didn’t want to be picked up by the small ministry bus.
I didn’t know if anyone would actually say that about me. But I didn’t want to risk it.
A few months out, I can see how warped that thinking was. I can also see how often we as Christians fall into the same trap, whether in ministry, career, or just life.
Scripture does call us to persevere. Paul writes in Romans 5:3-4 that “suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.” Perseverance is part of how God forms us.
But under a culture that treats quitting as failure, I wonder if we’ve stopped seeing perseverance as a sign of spiritual formation and started treating it as proof of it.
Have we made perseverance a perverse kind of pride that in turns, warps surrender into “giving up”?
When staying becomes the standard
In church, we have a lot of language for continuing.
Stay the course.
Push through.
Don’t grow weary.
Finish strong.
And it isn’t only church language. Our culture tells us winners never quit and quitters never win, and we’ve quietly given that idea a Bible verse.
Those words can encourage us when we’re exhausted or discouraged. Sometimes we need a reminder that difficulty doesn’t mean we’ve missed God. I’ve written before that not every hard thing is bad. Loving people is hard. Building something meaningful takes time. Faithfulness will ask more of us than convenience ever could.
But what happens when “keep going” becomes the only message? When we celebrate people for staying without asking why they keep going, or whether God is still asking them to be there? We create a culture where leaving requires a defense and staying automatically earns approval. Like me, people can be afraid, depleted, or ignoring a persistent conviction to move on, and we’ll applaud their commitment because they’re still showing up. They’re still giving it their best. They’re still completely committed. (Ahh, yes. Loyalty…but that’s for another week of this series.)
That makes discernment difficult, especially in ministry. Leaving a role, whether vocational or volunteer, can feel like abandoning people, disappointing God, or admitting you weren’t strong enough. So the question becomes “Can I keep doing this?” instead of “Is God still asking me to?”
We spend so much energy proving we can endure that we stop asking whether enduring this particular assignment is what obedience requires.
Our ability to stay becomes the evidence we use to justify staying.
But what did Jesus say?
We can’t talk about perseverance without diving into Hebrews 12:1-2.
“1Let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. 2 fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith…”
Did you see it?
Before the writer tells us to run, he tells us to “throw off” or put something down. Release comes first.
Then verse 2 tells us where to look while we run: “fixing our eyes on Jesus.” Not on our own abilities or cultural expectations.
As I read these familiar verses, I can’t help wondering if we haven’t become fixated on persevering rather than Jesus. Perhaps we’ve looked to culture and called it scripture. Because when we read it again, we notice Paul never said faithfulness means holding on to everything indefinitely.
In fact, Jesus gave His disciples instructions for leaving. When He sent out the Twelve, He told them that if a home or town would not welcome them, they should “leave that home or town and shake the dust off your feet,” (Matthew 10:14). That was a specific instruction for their mission, not a blanket permission slip. Still, Jesus made room for departure within obedience. But do we?
the truth is we need to know when to do both. There are times to endure and times to move on, and discomfort alone can’t tell us which is which. Neither staying nor leaving proves faithfulness by itself. We have to be willing to ask what God is calling us to do, even when the answer disrupts our own narrative.
What am I actually holding on to?
For me, that story was about being someone who didn’t quit. Someone who could go the distance, and the accolades that come with longevity. That desire sounds admirable until it becomes something you have to protect at the expense of obedience. I wanted to be faithful, but I also wanted to avoid looking unfaithful, and those two can sit close enough together that we mistake one for the other.
That’s the moment perseverance turns perverse. It stops being evidence of God’s work in us and becomes an idol we serve.
We hold on because we’ve already invested years, because people depend on us, because we don’t know who we’ll be without the title, or because we’re afraid to let go. Those concerns are real, but they don’t automatically mean we’re supposed to stay.
If we’re only willing to follow God when He asks us to keep going, how willing are we to follow Him when He invites us to surrender?
There isn’t a checklist that makes every decision obvious. Discernment is the muscle that helps us know whether to keep going or let go. Here are three questions I wish I had asked sooner.
1. Am I responding to God, or protecting my reputation?
Whose disappointment feels most threatening? Am I staying because I believe this is where God is leading, or because I’m afraid of what people will say if I leave? Mixed motives don’t make us failures. They make us human. But naming them helps us discern more honestly. For me, the fear of being called a quitter carried more weight than I wanted to admit.
2. Am I willing to consider both answers?
Discernment gets difficult when we’ve already decided which answer God is allowed to give. Surrender means bringing both possibilities before Him (more on that next week). Prayer and wise counsel help, especially counsel from people who care about us without a vested interest in the outcome. For three years, I prayed for the strength to keep going. I rarely asked whether I should.
3. What pattern am I seeing beyond this hard moment?
One exhausting week, month, or even year doesn’t mean an assignment is over. But a persistent conviction deserves attention. So does chronic discontent, or concerns we keep dismissing because the work is important. What keeps resurfacing in prayer and honest conversation? For me, the nudge never went away, and got harder to ignore.
I wish I had understood sooner that choosing to leave didn’t label me a quitter. I could be grateful for that season while admitting I had stayed longer than I should have at the risk of being obedient and missing out on the next thing God had for me.
Perseverance matters. I still believe that. But I want my perseverance to keep me following Jesus, including when He leads me somewhere new.
I don’t want to be so determined to prove I can stay that I stop listening when it’s time to go.
Sit With This
Where have I assumed that staying is automatically the faithful choice?
If I weren’t afraid of being called a quitter, what would I be willing to consider?
What would it look like for me to trust God with letting go?
Keep Reading
This essay opens Perverse, a series asking how we’ve taken spiritual formation traits and turned them into something that no longer reflects God. Next week: Perverse Surrender. Until then, here are a few more to sit with:
Do These Jeans Look Too Tight?: Thoughts on jeans, growth, and leaving spaces that no longer fit.
Not Every Hard Thing Is Bad: When something good still hurts, and why hard doesn’t always mean wrong.
Who Should I Believe?: Three questions to help you discern which voices are worth listening to.
If this article encouraged you, provided language for what you’re feeling,
or challenged you, I’d love to hear your story in a comment below.