When Good Isn’t Best
The Lord is so faithful to answer our prayers—even when we have no idea how those answered prayers will affect us. This has truly been a season of sorrow and suffering for me. Much of the suffering has come from seeing how deeply my flesh has been ruling my thoughts and reactions, and the sorrow from recognizing the impact this has had on my relationship with both the Lord and my husband.
This morning I realized that this painful revelation of the flesh is actually a direct response to my prayers to understand what it truly means to “Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength” (Deuteronomy 6:5). The Lord is faithfully showing me what must be released in order to live this kind of wholehearted love. I had no idea how much of my selfish flesh was hiding beneath the surface—in my will, motivations, thoughts, and desires.
Alongside this, the Lord has been pressing another truth into my heart through Oswald Chambers. I keep encountering the reminder that just because something is good does not mean it is best—or that it is what God is asking of me:
“It is not a question of giving up sin, but of giving up my right to myself, my natural independence and self-assertiveness… It is the things that are right and noble and good from the natural standpoint that keep us back from God’s best.” (Oswald Chambers, December 9)
Eve saw that the fruit was good for food, pleasing to the eye, and desirable for gaining wisdom—yet what was best was obedience. In the same way, the Lord has been gently but firmly showing me areas of my heart that are not aligned with His best for me.
At the same time, I’ve been listening to a book by Rees Howells, Intercessor by Norman Grubb. In one chapter, Rees describes coming face to face with the surrender of his will as he prayed for more of the Holy Spirit. What he was shown was costly—the laying down of his personal hopes, dreams, reputation, future plans, and even the right to choose his own path. As I listened, I felt the Holy Spirit speaking directly to me, making it clear that the same surrender was being asked of my own heart.
This came into sharp focus during a conversation with a friend, when I voiced frustration over feeling limited by Tom in my desire to “do more” for the Lord—serving the poor, going on mission trips, ministering in cities and nursing homes. As I spoke, it became painfully clear that anger and resentment had taken root in my heart. My friend gently asked the question I needed to hear: Just because these things are good, are they what God has asked you to do? Was I willing to choose what is best—even if it meant sacrificing my own desires?
The deeper truth stung even more: much of my desire to do these “good” things was tied to how they made me look. I wanted to appear devoted, sacrificial, and spiritual. I was still seeking approval from people rather than God. “Am I now trying to win the approval of men, or of God?” (Galatians 1:10). What God seems to be asking of me may not look impressive at all—and that exposes just how much of my heart still wants glory for itself.
This struggle showed up in a very practical way when I wrestled with choosing between attending a Monday night Bible study or spending time at home with Tom watching football. I knew God was asking me to choose my husband, yet I resented what felt like “wasted time.” Then the Lord brought me face to face with 1 Peter 3:1–2 “Wives… be submissive to your own husbands so that, if any of them do not obey the word, they may be won without a word by the behavior of their wives, when they observe your purity and respectful behavior.” My lack of purity and respect in that moment was undeniable—and worse, I was subtly making Tom look spiritually inferior. That realization was deeply humbling.
Again, the choice stood before me: what is good, or what is best? Obedience to God, expressed through love, honor, and presence with my husband, is far better than religious activity fueled by pride.
Over these months, the Lord has replayed the pattern for me clearly—how choosing my way, even when it looked godly, fed the flesh and led to struggle and unrest. The bigger the flesh grows, the harder it becomes to “take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ” (2 Corinthians 10:5).
First Peter has been especially powerful, reminding me that suffering is not an anomaly in the Christian life—it is part of the path. Christ did not simply die; He suffered. And we are called to arm ourselves with that same mindset:
“Therefore, since Christ suffered for us in the flesh, arm yourselves also with the same attitude, because he who has suffered in the flesh has ceased from sin, so that he does not live the rest of his time in the flesh for the lusts of men, but in the will of God.” (1 Peter 4:1-2)
“Dear friends, do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed.” (1 Peter 4:12-13)
In my case, the suffering is the death of self—laying down my will, my image, my preferences, and my need to appear faithful, in exchange for obedience and surrender.
His ways are always perfect. This journey is not about me or my desires, but about Him and His glory.
Lord, help me surrender fully—not just in words, but in my heart, mind, soul, and actions.
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