Living Writeous

Have you ever planned to go somewhere with friends or family and realized there were so many of you that you had to split up into different cars? Maybe you were all headed to the same destination, but you took different routes. One went through traffic, one had to pay bridge tolls, someone took the scenic route. Or maybe someone had to take the train, while some else rode a bike or called a Lyft. Despite the different routes, you all had the same goal: to get to the destination.

But what do you do when the people you thought were going with you decide not to go at all? Well, what if not only that, but they choose a completely different direction.

That’s where I’ve found myself lately, spiritually. I’ve realized that many of the people I love, care about deeply, and have journeyed through life with…they’re simply not coming with me. Not on this walk with Christ. Not on this path of transformation. It’s a realization that shakes you because your heart was never prepared for separation. You thought walking with Jesus would inspire those closest to you to follow Him too. But sometimes, your ‘yes’ to God is the beginning of a fork in the road….where one friend turns left and you’re being called to go right. And no matter how much you slow down or call out to them, they’ve already decided..their mind is made up. They are not coming. That’s the space I’m in. Grieving the distance between where I am and where I hoped we’d go together.

A Painful Turning Point

In October 2020, I rededicated my life to Christ. My grandma made sure I knew Jesus at an early age. But like many, once I got a taste of freedom, I wandered. While I was gone, I built friendships and found family among those who were always down for the club, ready for those Vegas pool parties, who were up for crawling to the bar. It was wild. It was fun. It was my “best life.”

When I returned to the faith, I knew some of those same friends would walk with me. I was convinced they’d join me in church. Until they didn’t. I prayed hard. I tried to encourage them, to show them how God had changed me. I especially tried with my best friend of 20 years. She and I had been through everything together, laughing, crying, partying, surviving. She supported me when I said I was transforming. She came to church occasionally. She even tried not to curse around me. I thought that meant she was on her way. Maybe just taking a different route, a slower one, but…. still coming.

Then one day, she hit me with the truth I didn’t want to hear.

She told me she wasn’t going to stop drinking, smoking weed, or selling drugs. She said she was keeping her lineup of men, and that the church thing wasn’t for her. She said it wasn’t that she didn’t love me or care about me, because she did. But it was simply because we were different people going in completely different directions. She told me I was a “good girl,” always had been, and she admired that about me. But she wasn’t going to change. Her life was working for her. She said it was time to end the friendship because I was going somewhere she had no interest in going.

And just like that, everything I’d been in denial about and too stubborn to admit became real.

I cried. I cried for days. I didn’t understand how one decision like saying yes to Jesus could result in so much pain and loss. I couldn’t understand why she had to walk away from everything, why she couldn’t just say, “no thanks to church,” and still stay my friend. I knew she wasn’t serious, at least that’s what I wanted to be true. I gave her time to cool down. I called her a few days later. The conversation was short, but the grief… that grief stayed. 

That conversation really shifted something in me. I realized that I could love people deeply and still have to let them go. I realized that you can beg God to change someone’s heart, but they still get to choose. And I realized, painfully that not everyone is assigned to your future just because they were part of your past.

The more I sat with God, the more I began to see that this was a pruning. Not to hurt me but to grow me. That moment was my first spiritual heartbreak. And it taught me a hard truth: you cannot take people where they are not willing to go.

That moment was the first of many. People I never thought would leave, slowly disappeared. And each time, it was a reminder that this path that I’ve chosen, this walk with Jesus, is very narrow, and it is not always lined with familiar faces. A confirmation on what Jesus has already told us:

“Enter by the narrow gate; for wide is the gate and broad is the way that leads to destruction, and there are many who go in by it.But narrow is the gate and difficult is the way which leads to life, and there are few who find it.”— Matthew 7:13–14 (NKJV)

Not Everyone Will Come With You

One of the hardest things to sit with is the truth that you can’t force anyone to follow Jesus, not even the folks you love most. You can pray. You can be a reflection of light. You can send the texts, extend the invites, and speak life over them every chance you get. But at the end of the day, they still have to choose for themselves.

And when they don’t, it hurts. No one tells you how painful it is to watch someone you love choose a lifestyle that’s pulling them further and further away from God. No one prepares you for the ache of having a front-row seat to someone’s destruction while you’re trying your best to live in the light. You start to wonder, was I not enough of a witness? Did I fail them somehow? Could I have done more?

But deep down, you know the answer: they have to want this for themselves. You can’t want salvation more than they do. You can’t want healing for someone who thinks broken is working just fine.

“Can two walk together, unless they are agreed?”— Amos 3:3 (NKJV)

This doesn’t make your love for them any less real. It doesn’t make their absence any less painful. But it does shift your posture. Because now you know: this walk isn’t about dragging people with you. It’s about obeying God, even if you have to walk forward alone.

And sometimes you will. You’ll look around and notice that your circle is smaller. Your calendar is lighter. The group chats are dry. And yet your spirit is heavier with the presence of God. There’s peace, even in the loneliness, because you know you’re walking the right way.

One Way, Many Journeys

Something else I had to learn and that I’m still learning, honestly, is that everyone’s journey won’t look like mine, and that’s okay. God doesn’t copy and paste. That’s for us, the humans. God works uniquely, intentionally, and personally. What He’s doing in me might not look like what He’s doing in someone else. The timing may be different. The setting might be different. The process may look messier or maybe more refined, and all of that is okay. But here’s the part that can’t be negotiated:

There is only one way to the Father, and that’s through Jesus Christ.

“Jesus said to him, ‘I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.’”— John 14:6 (NKJV)

Letting go of people you love isn’t easy. It never has been. And truthfully, I don’t think it ever will be. But following Jesus has taught me that obedience sometimes costs you comfort. It costs you relationships. And while that loss stings, what you gain is a closeness with God that cannot be matched.

You gain clarity. You gain peace. You gain purpose.

This journey I’m on? It’s not glamorous. It’s not always exciting. Sometimes, it’s quiet. Sometimes, it’s heavy.  I’ve cried some real tears over this. Grieved deeply. Wrestled with God about why some friendships had to end and why others feel so far away. But I’m beginning to understand that grief can coexist with growth.

So if you’re in a season like mine where the people you once walked with have chosen another path, I just want to say: you’re not alone. It doesn’t make you a bad friend, brother, sister, cousin, or parent. It doesn’t make them a bad person. It simply means the road you’re called to walk has narrowed and not everyone can fit.

Keep going anyway.

Keep trusting that the God who called you is walking right beside you. Keep praying for those who stayed behind. Keep loving them but don’t let their “no” to Jesus become your reason to turn around.

“Let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart.”— Galatians 6:9 (NKJV)

You may not walk with a crowd. But if you’re walking with Christ, you’re on the right road.

And that road leads to life.