Seeking His Heart, Not His Hand

A vulnerable, unfiltered processing moment — shared out loud

Let me be upfront with you: this isn't my typical blog post. Usually, I'm here to add value — to offer tools, frameworks, something practical you can walk away with. This one is different. This one is me, out loud, processing something in real time.

I'm an extrovert. I process externally. That means thinking by talking, making sense of things by getting them out of my head and into the air. So today, I'm inviting you into that process — not because I have it figured out, not because I'm on the other side of it, but because I believe that sometimes the most honest thing we can offer someone is our own unfinished story. If what I'm working through happens to land somewhere in you, then this was worth it. And if not, that's okay too. Either way, I needed to get this out.

So here we go.

Going Through the Motions

It started at Bible study on Wednesday. We were talking about finding your resting place — dwelling in the Lord, what it actually looks like to be still in Him. And almost immediately, every single one of us noticed the same thing: we were distracted. Deeply, persistently, almost comically distracted.

Here's the thing about that. Walking with God has become such a discipline in my life that I don't even have to think about it anymore. I start my day with Him. I bring Him into every part of my day. I seek Him — or at least, I thought I was seeking Him. But somewhere along the way, discipline became routine. And routine, without intention, can quietly become motion. Empty motion.

The question that came up in that room hit me somewhere deep:

Are you seeking God's hand — or are you seeking God's heart?

I wanted to answer quickly. I wanted to say, "His heart, of course." But I couldn't. Because the honest answer was that I had slowly, subtly, without even realizing it, shifted my focus from His heart to His hand. I was so busy trying to figure out what He wanted me to do, what His plans were, how I was supposed to be showing up, what I should be learning, where I should be putting my energy — that I had stopped simply being with Him.

I thought of Peter. Eyes fixed on Jesus, walking on water — until he looked down. The second he noticed the storm around him, he sank. It wasn't a lack of faith that started the sinking. It was a shift in focus. And I think that's exactly where I had been all week.

"But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, 'Lord, save me!'"
— Matthew 14:30

The Thoughts I Didn't Want to Admit

This week, I felt lost. And I mean genuinely, quietly, achingly lost — not in a dramatic way, but in that low hum of confusion that is somehow worse. God has given me so much. Gifts, talents, opportunities, people. A life I genuinely never imagined living, especially compared to where I was before I was walking with Him. I can see His goodness everywhere when I look for it.

And still — I felt like I didn't know where I was supposed to be or what I was supposed to be doing. Am I supposed to be waiting or moving? Resting or going? Doing enough, or doing too much? The questions were relentless, and they were all about me and what I thought His plan should look like.

But the thoughts that scared me most were quieter than that:

What if nobody notices? What if someone else could do this better? What if it doesn't matter whether I show up or not?

And then the thought underneath all of those: "If it's not about this world anyway, what's the point?"

I'm sharing these because I think they're more common than we admit. I think a lot of people sitting in disciplined faith still have weeks like this — weeks where the distance feels real, where you're doing all the right things and still feel like you're doing none of them right. And I don't think those thoughts make you faithless. I think they make you human.

But here's the thing I kept coming back to, slowly, message by message, throughout the week: those thoughts were all about me. My performance. My impact. My place in His plan. I was still focused on His hand — on what He was or wasn't doing for me — rather than simply on Him.

The Message That Kept Finding Me

I want to be specific about this, because I think it matters: I did not receive this message once and immediately act on it. I received it approximately seven times before it finally broke through.

Bible study. Conversations. A sermon I stumbled across. A podcast. Quiet moments that kept circling back to the same theme —seek His heart, not His hand. Stop fixating on the plan and start fixating on God. Over and over. And each time, I heard it, nodded, maybe felt a little convicted, and kept moving.

That's worth sitting with. Even with discipline. Even with genuine love for God. It still took seven touches of the same message before I was finally still enough to receive it. I don't say that with shame — I say it because I think grace looks like a God who keeps sending the same message until it lands.

Sitting in the Silence — Even When It Was Uncomfortable

So I went to the sauna. Thirty minutes. Eyes closed. And I told God: I'm not coming to ask for anything. I'm not coming to figure anything out. I'm just going to sit here at Your feet and be quiet.

Which sounds peaceful. It was not entirely peaceful.

Because my brain immediately started: Am I doing this right? Should I ask a question first? How long do I wait? Is that His voice or mine? Am I forcing an answer because I want one? Even in the silence, I was striving. Even in the stillness, I was performing.

But I stayed. And eventually, the first word came: Study.

Study His Word. Use downtime for knowledge. Go deeper into what's already there.

And my honest reaction? I wanted to get up and walk out of that sauna. Not because the word wasn't meaningful — but because I felt like I finally had something, and every part of me wanted to take it and run. But something held me there.

God, is that it? Is there more? Or am I just grabbing the first thing You gave me because I want to be done sitting in this heat?

I chose to stay in the discomfort. And then He gave me the second word: Seek.

Seek Him first — before any decision, before any action, before anything else.

And again I sat with it. Okay, Lord. But is there more?

I didn't want to assume I had the whole picture. I didn't want to lean on my own understanding and call it God's voice. So I waited. Still overheating. Still choosing not to leave.

And then the third word came: Steward.

Steward the gifts He had already given me. Not chase something new. Not manufacture something bigger. Tend faithfully what was already in my hands.

After that, there was nothing more. No fourth word. No correction. Just a quiet settledness — like the conversation was complete. And I finally let myself get up.

Revealed one at a time, in the silence:

• Study His Word — and use downtime for knowledge. Not just consuming. Actually studying. Going deeper into what's already there.

• Seek Him first. Before any decision. Before any action. Before anything else.

• Steward the gifts He's already given me. Not chase something new. Faithfully tend what's already been entrusted to me.

What struck me about that third word — steward — was how directly it answered the spiral I had been in all week. I wasn't being called to do something new or bigger or more visible. I was being called to be faithful with what was already in my hands. The answer to "am I doing enough?" wasn't to do more. It was to tend to what I've already given you.

What I'm Carrying Into This Next Season

I don't think this message was only for me. I think it's for anyone who is disciplined and still feeling distant. Anyone who is doing all the right things and still feeling lost. Anyone whose prayers have quietly shifted from " Who are you, Lord? " to " What do you want me to do, Lord.

The invitation isn't to try harder. It's to look up.

Keep your eyes on Him — not on the water, not on the plan, not on whether anyone notices what you're doing. Seek His heart. Study His Word. Steward what He's placed in your hands.

That's where I am. Still in it. Still processing. But a little clearer than I was at the start of this week — and trusting that's enough for today.

Jayme Shiarla Coaching · Faith · Transformation · Purpose