As humans, we naturally seek the path of least resistance.
It shows up everywhere: the route we take to work, the flight we book, the time we eat dinner, even when we grocery shop to avoid the crowds. Whether we like it or not, we are inclined to protect our comfort, our choices, and our time. In that sense, selfishness isn’t unusual; it’s instinctive.
But while this tendency is natural, it isn’t ideal.
More often than not, the things that carry the most weight in life are the ones that cost us something. The hard things. The inconvenient things. This is especially true when it comes to serving others, our spouse, our children, or our church family.
And I’m not writing this as someone who gets it right.
There are plenty of evenings when a nap sounds more appealing than a board game, or when staying inside feels easier than going on a bike ride with the kids. I’ve felt that same pull toward comfort, the same instinct to protect my time and energy.
I’ve heard it said before, “I can only serve on this day, in this capacity, and for this amount of time because I’m very busy.” I’ve heard others explain that they can’t attend a small group because it falls on the day they shop and plan meals for the week.
To be fair, some of those responsibilities matter. Life is full, and not every commitment is trivial. But the question worth asking is this: at what point does inconvenience become an excuse not to serve?
For me, the answer is rarely, if ever.
In my experience, the moments when you walk away thinking you were the one doing the good deed are often the moments when God was actually doing something in you. The service wasn’t primarily for the other person; you needed it more than they did.
That’s the paradox of serving others: it almost always costs your comfort, but it almost always gives back more than it takes.
Inconvenience Is the Cost of Love
If serving others only happened when it fit neatly into our schedules, it wouldn’t require much of us at all. Love, by its nature, interrupts. It asks for attention when you’re tired, patience when you’re already spent, and presence when you’d rather be elsewhere.
Marriage reveals this quickly. So does parenting. Church life does too. Needs rarely announce themselves in advance, and they almost never arrive at a convenient hour. But that inconvenience isn’t a flaw; it’s the point.
When service costs you something, it exposes what you truly value. It forces a decision: protect your comfort, or step into someone else’s need. Over time, those small, ordinary decisions quietly shape who you become.
Most people aren’t unwilling to serve. They’re just waiting for a version of service that doesn’t disrupt their rhythm. But Scripture doesn’t frame love as optional or conditional on convenience. It frames it as sacrificial, intentional, and often unseen.
That doesn’t mean saying yes to everything or ignoring wisdom and boundaries. It does mean holding your plans loosely and being willing to let them bend when love calls for it.
Christ Never Treated People as Interruptions
Jesus’ life was marked by constant interruption.
He was stopped by the sick, questioned by the curious, and followed by crowds when He was physically exhausted. Yet Scripture never presents these moments as distractions from His mission; they were the mission.
Jesus washed the feet of His disciples, knowing full well who would deny Him and who would betray Him. He fed people who would later walk away. He healed on days when it would cost Him socially and religiously. Again and again, He chose love over efficiency, people over schedule.
Philippians tells us that Christ “did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant.” That kind of humility doesn’t leave much room for convenience.
If the Son of God stepped willingly into inconvenience for the sake of others, it reframes our own hesitations. The call to serve isn’t about availability—it’s about posture. A willingness to be interrupted. A readiness to be poured out.
Following Christ doesn’t mean your life becomes easier. It means your comfort no longer takes top priority.
A Question Worth Sitting With
Where in your life have you quietly decided that obedience, love, or service will wait until it becomes more convenient?
Where Faithfulness Usually Lives
Most acts of service won’t feel dramatic or heroic. They’ll feel ordinary, poorly timed, and mildly inconvenient. They’ll show up as small decisions no one applauds and sacrifices no one sees.
But those are often the moments God uses most.
Not because you were especially generous or disciplined, but because you were willing. Willing to be interrupted. Willing to give up a little comfort. Willing to trust that what feels inconvenient to you may be exactly what someone else needs, and exactly what God is using to shape your heart.
Serving others isn’t about fitting God into your schedule.
It’s about letting Him rearrange it.
What This Can Look Like in Real Life
Sometimes faithfulness doesn’t require a big commitment, just a small, inconvenient yes.
- Serving your spouse might look like planning a date night when rest sounds more appealing, or choosing presence and conversation when the day has already drained you.
- Serving your children might mean taking them to the park when you’re tired, getting on the floor to play when your body wants the couch, or choosing patience when exhaustion makes irritation easier.
- Serving your church family could be showing up to help, attend, or encourage when it would be simpler to stay home and protect your energy.
None of these moments is headline-worthy. But they are formative.
Over time, these small acts of inconvenient service shape marriages, build trust with children, strengthen the community, and quietly form a heart that looks a little more like Christ’s.
Notes to Myself
This isn’t a post about telling you something you don’t already know. It’s a reminder I need myself. Writing it is a way of slowing down, taking an honest look at my choices, and remembering that faithfulness usually shows up in small, inconvenient moments.
