When You Want to Quit

Read

Galatians 6:9 “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”

Think

Some days, self-control doesn’t feel like a spiritual victory. It feels like plain exhaustion. You’ve been trying to break the habit, forgive the person, stay consistent in your rhythms, and walk with integrity—but you’re tired. You wonder if it’s even worth it. You scroll past people who seem carefree, unburdened, and honestly, they don’t look like they’re carrying the weight of obedience. And in that quiet moment, something inside you whispers, “Just stop. Take a break. Give yourself a pass today. You’ve earned it.” That voice isn’t just laziness. It’s discouragement in disguise.

Paul knew the weariness that can settle in after doing the right thing again and again with no visible payoff. That’s why he wrote Galatians 6:9 not as a rebuke, but as a reminder: “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” Embedded in that encouragement is a crucial truth—doing good can make you weary. Choosing self-control isn’t easy. It’s a kind of daily death to self. It’s resisting impulses that feel justified, appetites that feel natural, and patterns that feel comfortable. It’s an act of faith in slow-growing fruit. But here’s the promise: there is a harvest. It may not come as quickly as we want, and it may not look like what we expected—but it will come. And it will be worth it.

One of the hardest parts of self-control is how quiet it is. Sin often offers fast results—dopamine hits, momentary escape, temporary validation. Obedience offers delayed results—peace that grows slowly, character that’s built brick by brick, joy that deepens over time. We live in a world that celebrates instant outcomes, not long-term obedience. But God operates on a different timeline. He’s not looking for your highlight reel. He’s forming your heart.

In those moments when you want to quit—when you're tired of holding your tongue, tired of resisting temptation, tired of walking the long road of faithfulness—remember this: your struggle isn’t proof you’re failing. It’s proof you’re fighting. And that fight matters. Every act of self-control is a seed. It may not seem impressive in the moment, but God sees it. He honors it. He waters it.

The Greek word for “weary” in Galatians 6:9, ekkakeó, literally means “to lose heart.” It’s not just physical tiredness—it’s a soul-level discouragement. And that’s what makes the command to “not give up” so powerful. It’s not telling you to be superhuman. It’s inviting you to trust that your unseen obedience is seen by God, and he is faithful to finish what he started in you.

What do you do when the motivation is gone? You anchor yourself not in what you feel, but in what you know. That God is not unjust. That your choices matter. That your character is being shaped even when the results are invisible. You remind yourself that self-control isn’t about perfection—it’s about persistence. It’s about choosing the next right thing, not because you feel strong, but because God is strong in you.

You also give yourself grace. Not the kind that excuses sin, but the kind that lifts your head. You will fail. You will slip. But failure doesn’t cancel the harvest—it just reminds you to go back to the Gardener. The one who is patient, present, and powerful enough to grow fruit even in weary soil.

If you’re discouraged today, know this: you’re not alone, and you’re not crazy for finding this hard. But don’t give up. The breakthrough you crave may be right beneath the surface. The Spirit is still at work. The harvest is still coming. Hold the line. Stay the course. And remember—some of the most holy things you do won’t feel heroic. They’ll feel ordinary, repetitive, even unnoticed. But in the kingdom of God, quiet obedience is never wasted.

Apply

Where have you been most tempted to give up lately—in a spiritual rhythm, a boundary, a healing process, or a relationship? Don’t try to fix everything. Just commit to one more day of obedience in that area. Set a timer, send the text, open the Bible, take the walk. Then celebrate that step—not because it’s big, but because it’s faithful.

Pray

God, I’m tired of trying sometimes. The slow road of obedience feels uphill and unseen. But you promise there’s a harvest. You promise that faithfulness matters. Give me the strength to keep going—not perfectly, but persistently. Help me trust that your Spirit is still working in me, even when I can’t see the results. In Jesus’ name. Amen.