The Art of Passive Living

There’s a kind of life that looks peaceful on the outside—but if you really press into it, you’ll find something else underneath.

Avoidance. Fear. Numbness.

Delay dressed up as discernment.

I’ve lived there. I’ve decorated the place.

I told myself I was waiting on God, being patient, not rushing things. But deep down? I was avoiding. Avoiding decisions. Avoiding discomfort. Avoiding the weight of responsibility that comes with stepping into purpose. I had mastered the art of passive living—and somewhere along the way, I stopped questioning it. It just started to feel like the way life was supposed to be.

It’s tricky, because passive living can sound like holiness. It can look like contentment. You’re not chasing anything, you’re not out here striving… but you’re also not growing. You’re just sitting. Spiritually stalled out, while life moves on around you.

And I want to be clear—I’m not talking about rest. God calls us to rest. He created rhythms of rest. But rest and passivity aren’t the same thing. One is restoration. The other is resignation.

The truth? God didn’t call us to be spectators in our own lives.

Passive living has a sneaky way of feeling safe.

You don’t have to risk failing if you never try.

You don’t have to face rejection if you never show up. You don’t have to be disappointed if you never hope for more.

But you also don’t get to see what God can do through your obedience. You don’t get to experience the joy of partnering with Him in your own story. And you don’t get to build anything that lasts while you’re sitting in neutral.

Somewhere along the way, I confused stillness with stagnancy. I kept praying for God to open doors while ignoring the fact that I hadn’t knocked on any. I wanted Him to move mountains, but I didn’t want to take a single step.

And then I read Isaiah 40:31 again:

“But those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.”

Did you catch that?

Wait… run… walk.

There’s movement in the waiting. Strength in the forward steps. Faith in the action.

I think we’ve made passivity an art form in Christian culture. We say, “If it’s God’s will, it’ll happen,” and use that as a reason not to act. We quote “Be still and know” when what we’re really doing is stalling. We glorify peace, but avoid the parts of peace that come through hard decisions, bold moves, and confronting what’s broken.

But passivity isn’t always peace.

Sometimes it’s just fear in a more comfortable outfit.

So here’s what I’m learning—and maybe you need this too:

God isn’t looking for perfect plans or perfect timing. He’s looking for surrendered hearts.

And sometimes that surrender looks like movement.

Not dramatic, lightning-strikes-the-ground kind of movement. Not the “pack up your whole life and move to a new city” kind of movement. Sometimes it’s just doing the next thing. The small thing. The overlooked thing. The thing that doesn’t come with applause or a guarantee. The thing that makes your voice shake a little.

Because here’s the truth: obedience isn’t always glamorous. Most of the time, it’s not. Sometimes it’s awkward. Sometimes it’s uncomfortable. Sometimes it’s just showing up and doing the thing when you’d rather overthink it for six more months.

But obedience—especially the quiet kind—builds trust.

It’s us saying to God, “I don’t have the full picture, but I trust You enough to take this step.”

And that step? That’s where things begin to shift.

Don’t underestimate the power of a surrendered yes. Not a perfect yes. Not a confident yes. Just a willing one.

Because God can work with that.

He loves working with that.

And listen, prayer is powerful. I’ll never downplay that. It’s where battles are won, where clarity is found, where peace is restored. But sometimes—we use prayer as a way to delay obedience.

We pray about the same thing for months when God’s already given us the answer.

We keep asking for confirmation when He’s already said “go.” We fast, journal, and talk to everyone but the mountain we were told to move.

At some point, you have to put feet to your faith.

James 2:17 puts it plain: “Faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead.”

Oof.

That’s not a call to hustle. That’s a call to live out what we believe. To trust that if God called us to it, He’ll meet us in it—not just in our prayers, but in our pursuit.

Faith isn’t just kneeling by your bed and whispering hope into the silence. Faith is getting up, walking out the door, and acting like the thing you prayed for is possible.

It doesn’t mean you won’t be scared.

It just means you won’t let fear have the final word.

So yes—pray.

But then move.

Apply for the job.

Start the conversation.

Write the thing.

Say the yes.

Because God doesn’t just respond to words.

He responds to faith that moves.

I’m done living passively.

I don’t want to coast through life and call it contentment.

I don’t want to keep sitting on what God’s given me out of fear I’ll mess it up.

So I’m choosing purpose. Obedience. Action.

Not because I feel brave, but because I’ve seen what happens when I wait too long.

And if you’ve been sitting in your own version of passive living—wondering if now is the time, if you’re ready, if it matters—this is your gentle nudge:

You weren’t made to sit the season out.

Wake up.

Move forward.

Live on purpose.