Not My Will, But Yours

When God Says Go But the Road Looks Dangerous

Have you ever felt absolutely certain about something — a decision, a direction, a calling — only to have everyone around you tell you not to do it? Anna Kettle walks us through one of the most confusing chapters in the book of Acts, where Paul receives a clear word from God to go to Jerusalem, and then receives warning after warning about the danger waiting for him there.

The question this raises is one most of us wrestle with at some point. If God tells you to do something, why would he also let you know it's going to be incredibly hard?

The Confusion of Contradictory Messages

The story in Acts 21 is genuinely puzzling at first glance. Paul is travelling to Jerusalem. He feels God has told him to go. Along the way, Christians in Tyre warn him not to go — they say the Holy Spirit has shown them it will be dangerous. Paul keeps going. Then in Caesarea, a prophet called Agabus dramatically acts out a prophecy showing Paul will be arrested and handed over to the Gentiles. The disciples there plead with him to stay.

And Paul's response? "Why are you weeping and breaking my heart? I am ready not only to be bound but also to die in Jerusalem for the Lord Jesus."

That is not the answer of someone who hasn't thought this through. It's the answer of someone who has counted the cost and decided the mission matters more than his safety.

Warnings Are Not the Same as Stop Signs

Here's the insight Anna pulls out that reframes the whole passage. The warnings from the Holy Spirit were not instructions to stop — they were preparation for what lay ahead.

There's a difference between being warned about a difficult road and being told to take a different one. The other Christians around Paul interpreted the warnings as reasons to turn back. That was their anxiety talking, their natural human instinct to protect someone they loved. But Paul understood something different — God was getting his heart ready for the hardship ahead.

This matters because most of us make the same mistake. When things get hard, we immediately question whether we heard God correctly. We assume difficulty means we're on the wrong path. But sometimes difficulty just means the path is hard. It doesn't mean it's wrong.

God always prepares us for what he asks of us. That's the first takeaway from this passage. He doesn't send us in blind. But his preparation sometimes looks like warnings about hardship, not removal of hardship.

The Willingness to Take Risks for Faith

Paul didn't hesitate. Others around him were anxious, emotional, begging him to reconsider. And he walked straight into danger because he knew what God had told him.

Anna is honest about the fact that most of us in the UK aren't likely to face arrest or imprisonment for our faith. But there are other risks we're asked to take — smaller ones that still make us hesitate.

Speaking about faith to someone who doesn't share it. Being honest about what we believe when it might sound weird. Letting our actions be shaped by conviction rather than comfort. These aren't life-threatening, but they're still moments where we have to choose between playing it safe and following where God leads.

The question isn't whether we'll face Paul-level persecution. It's whether we're willing to endure even mild discomfort for the sake of what we believe.

Following Christ Into Difficult Things

The word "Christian" literally means "follower of Christ." And yet, as Anna points out, how many of us who use that label are genuinely willing to follow Jesus into difficult, uncomfortable, inconvenient places?

There's a striking parallel between Paul heading to Jerusalem knowing he'll be arrested, and Jesus heading to the cross knowing he'll die. Jesus predicted his own death at least three times in the Gospels. He knew what was coming. And in the Garden of Gethsemane, he prayed those extraordinary words:

"Father, if you are willing, take this cup away from me. And yet not my will, but yours be done." — Luke 22:42

Paul's journey mirrors this. The conclusion the disciples came to when they couldn't dissuade him was the same: "The Lord's will be done."

That phrase isn't resignation. It's trust. It's choosing to believe that God's plan is worth the cost, even when the cost is high.

What This Means for Us

This isn't about seeking out hardship or being reckless. It's about not running away from the hard things God asks of us simply because they're hard.

Most of us won't be called to walk into a city where we know we'll be arrested. But we might be called to have a conversation we've been avoiding. To forgive someone who doesn't deserve it. To step into a role that feels too big. To stay faithful in a season that feels too long.

The question Paul's story puts to us is simple: when God says go, and the road looks difficult, do we trust him enough to keep walking?

Practical Steps This Week

• Check your assumptions about difficulty. Next time something gets hard, resist the automatic thought that you must be on the wrong path. Ask instead: could this be preparation rather than a stop sign?

• Identify one small risk you've been avoiding. A conversation about faith, a step of obedience, a commitment you've been putting off. What would it look like to stop hesitating?

• Sit with the Gethsemane prayer. Spend a few minutes with Luke 22:42 this week. What would it mean for you to honestly pray "not my will, but yours"?

• Talk to someone about it. Paul didn't journey alone — he had companions the entire way. Share your struggle or your calling with someone you trust.

A Final Thought

Following Jesus has never been marketed as easy. But the promise was never comfort — it was presence. God doesn't promise to remove the difficulty. He promises to walk with us through it, to prepare us for it, and to use it for something bigger than we can see in the moment.

What hard road might God be preparing you for right now?