Picking Up My Cross

Dear God, it’s me again.

I’m ready to pick up my cross.

You know how you know things need to change, but you’re still holding on to your old life? That’s where I am right now.

If I’m being honest, surrender isn’t fun. Change isn’t glamorous. Being this honest with myself feels exposing. Sometimes it even feels unheard.

As much as I enjoy the things of this world, I know that if I continue to cling to them, it could cost me my eternity. And I don’t want that. I don’t want to gamble with my soul just because comfort feels familiar.

So I know I need to pick up my cross.

But what does that actually mean?

I’ve heard that phrase for years “pick up your cross.” But what does it look like in real life? What does it look like when it’s not a sermon, but your actual choices? Your habits. Your relationships. Your quiet moments when no one is watching.

I feel like I’m constantly stuck on step one.

Lord, what is the first step in picking up my cross?

Is picking up my cross the same as surrender?

Maybe picking up my cross means choosing obedience over attention.

Maybe it means letting go of versions of myself that felt good but weren’t godly.

Maybe it means setting boundaries even when it makes people uncomfortable.

Maybe it means walking away from things that once defined me, but no longer align with who You’re calling me to be.

Maybe it means discipline when no one is clapping.

Maybe it means silence when I want validation.

Maybe it means trusting that Your will for me is better than the life I keep trying to piece together on my own.

Because the truth is, I don’t want a life that looks good but leads nowhere.

I want a life that costs something.

I want a faith that requires something.

I want a relationship with You that transforms me not just comforts me.

If picking up my cross means dying to the parts of me that can’t come where You’re taking me… then maybe that’s the first step.

Maybe surrender and picking up my cross are the same thing.

And maybe step one isn’t dramatic.

Maybe it’s quiet.

Maybe it’s saying, “Yes, Lord,” even when I don’t fully understand what I’m saying yes to.

So here I am.

Dear God, it’s me again.

Teach me how to carry it.