When God Asks You to Go Where You Don’t Want To

A reflection from church — December 28, 2025

Church this morning felt like one of those “God is setting the tone” kind of Sundays.

It was the last Sunday of 2025, and you could feel that end-of-year energy in the room — grateful, reflective, and a little bit like, okay Lord… what are we doing next? We started with worship, and I honestly loved the spirit of it. Singing, dancing, the joy in the room — that kind of worship reminds me that faith isn’t supposed to be stiff. It’s alive.

Then we moved into giving, and I appreciated how it was framed: not as pressure, but as worship. A simple reminder that generosity isn’t just a “church thing,” it’s a heart thing. And it hit me when he said the Lord has provided incredibly this year because of the generosity of people. That’s God working through real humans — like, we’re the hands, we’re the help, we’re the support. That’s powerful.

A citywide week of prayer and fasting

One of the biggest announcements was the Week of Prayer and Fasting coming up January 4–11 — downtown Lima, multiple churches, one city, one focus.

That part fired me up because it’s not about one church trying to be “the main one.” It’s about unity. Eight churches hosting gatherings at 7 PM each night, encouraging people to fast and pray together.

And the pastor talked about fasting in a way that wasn’t weird or guilt-heavy — it was real. He basically said: fasting isn’t punishment. It’s training. It’s not about trying to impress God. It’s about removing the noise so you can actually hear Him.

We live in a culture of excess and instant gratification… and that can mess with our ability to hear God.

He also said self-control is one of the fruits we don’t talk about enough. We want to be spiritual, but we don’t want to wrestle our appetites — food, sugar, comfort, habits, distractions, even resentment. But growth usually costs something.

What I liked is how he broke down fasting without making it complicated:

  • fasting a full day
  • fasting one meal and using that time to pray
  • fasting something you lean on (like sugar, late-night snacking, constant entertainment)

There’s also going to be a 24-hour prayer sign-up (48 half-hour slots). The idea that for 24 hours straight, people are praying for the city, for healing, restoration, revival… that’s beautiful.

Jonah: the “religious person running from God” story

The sermon came from Jonah, and it wasn’t the Sunday school version where everybody just argues about the fish.

The pastor said something that made me sit up: What if Jonah is really a story about religious people running from God?

Jonah wasn’t some random guy. Jonah was a prophet. He knew God. But God told him to go preach to Nineveh — and Jonah hated those people. So he ran. He boarded a boat headed the opposite direction.

It’s possible to get on a “boat” that carries you away from the presence of God.

That “boat” can be a relationship. A job. A habit. A mindset. A grudge. Something that looks normal on the outside, but it’s quietly steering you away from who God is calling you to be.

Jonah knew he was running. He still did it. And honestly… we’ve all done that. Ignored red flags, ignored warnings, ignored wisdom — and still hopped on the boat anyway.

The belly of the fish

Then Jonah gets tossed into the sea, swallowed by a great fish, and ends up in what the pastor called “the belly of the fish.”

What you did to end up in the belly of the fish doesn’t have to define your life.
What you do inside the belly of the fish is what defines your life.

That right there is hope.

Because some people are in that place right now — consequences, losses, regret, pain, “how did I end up here?” moments. And the enemy loves to say, this is who you are now. But God says, no — what you do next matters.

And he said something wild but true: the belly of the fish can be a great place… because there are no distractions. It’s dark, it’s quiet, and it forces you to face yourself and face God. Sometimes that’s the only place we actually listen.

Jonah finally prayed. God spoke to the fish. Jonah got a second chance.

Jonah’s real problem: anger when God shows mercy

This is where it got uncomfortable — in a good way.

Jonah goes to Nineveh, preaches judgment, and shockingly… the people repent. God shows mercy. And Jonah gets mad — like, furious. He basically tells God, “This is why I didn’t want to do it — I knew You’d forgive them!”

“Do you have a good reason to be angry?”

Sometimes we follow God, but deep down we expect God to run the world the way we would run it. We want mercy for ourselves, but judgment for everybody who hurt us. And when God doesn’t move the way we think He should, anger creeps in.

Sometimes our “Nineveh” isn’t a city — it’s a person. Someone we can’t forgive. Someone we don’t want to see blessed. Someone we’re still holding hostage in our heart.

Ending 2025 softer, not harder

What I loved most is how he ended it — not with condemnation, but with direction.

He said life isn’t going to turn out the way you thought it should. You’re going to be disappointed. But that doesn’t mean God doesn’t love you. It doesn’t mean you don’t have purpose.

And he prayed something that honestly is a solid prayer for 2026: that God would make us soft. Not rigid. Not always fighting. Not closed-fisted. But open-handed. Surrendered. Teachable. Gentle.

That God would take our anger and exchange it for joy. Take entitlement and replace it with surrender. Help us stop boarding boats that lead away from His presence.

My takeaway

I walked out of church thinking about two things:

  • What “boat” am I tempted to get on? The thing that feels easier, safer, more comfortable… but slowly pulls me away from God.
  • Do I have a good reason to be angry? Not “am I justified” — but “is this anger helping me become who God is calling me to be?”

Because anger can feel powerful, but it’s heavy. And I don’t want to carry that into 2026.

I want to start the year clear. Focused. Humble. And willing — even when God asks me to go where I don’t want to go.

Happy New Year… and may God bless you as you go.

— Josh Bridges

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