The Hardest Part Is Saying Yes

Hey Travelers,

Planting my seed felt like stepping off a cliff with no guarantee a parachute would open.
No backup plan. No visible safety net. Just the sound of my own breath and the quiet question echoing in my chest: What if this doesn’t work?

That’s the part no one romanticizes.

Because planting isn’t glamorous.

It’s not the big moment you post.
It’s not the applause, the milestone, or the speech where everything finally makes sense.

Planting is quiet.

It happens when no one is clapping.
When there’s no confirmation email yet.
When the results are invisible and the obedience feels heavier than the reward.

Planting is obedience before clarity.

It’s saying yes before you know how it will turn out.
Yes before you see the provision.
Yes before the timeline makes sense.

Planting is whispering,
“Okay Lord… I trust You,”
even when your voice shakes while saying it.

For me, planting didn’t look dramatic.
It didn’t look bold on the outside.

It looked like writing things down when no one was asking to read them.
Starting small when I wanted to start strong.
Taking one step forward while my knees were shaking and my confidence lagged behind my faith.

Planting exposed my impatience.
It challenged my need for control.
It forced me to confront the uncomfortable truth that faith doesn’t require understanding—it requires surrender.

And maybe that’s where you are too.

Your planting might look like signing up for something that scares you.
Or letting go of something you’ve outgrown but still cling to.
It might look like building something slowly while watching others sprint ahead.
Trying again after disappointment taught you to guard your heart.
Or simply believing again after life gave you reasons not to.

Sometimes planting looks like choosing hope when cynicism feels safer.
Sometimes it looks like obedience that no one sees but God.

Here’s what I’ve learned:
A seed in your hand feels powerful because it’s still yours.
But a seed in the ground feels vulnerable—because now you’re trusting the process.

Yet a seed in your hand is only full of potential.
A seed in the ground is full of purpose.

Purpose doesn’t activate when we hold on.
It activates when we release.

Scripture reminds us in James 2:17 that faith without works is dead.
In other words, belief that never moves never grows.

The seed won’t grow until you let it leave your hand.

And yes—saying yes is the hardest part.
But once the seed is planted, the pressure to perform shifts into permission to trust.

Growth happens underground first.
Roots form before fruit appears.
And just because you can’t see it yet doesn’t mean nothing is happening.

So if all you’ve done today is say yes—
yes to starting,
yes to obedience,
yes to planting—

that is not small.

That is faith in motion.

Keep going, Traveler.
Your destination is ahead—even if the ground still looks quiet.