Stuck: When Effort Isn’t the Way Forward

Being stuck is scary and unsettling—whether it’s your car spinning its tires in the snow, or life isn’t moving the way you thought it would.

Can we ease off the gas for a moment and sit here together?

Snow has blanketed much of the Southeast—an unfamiliar landscape for many. I’m safely at home, watching it fall from inside, wrapped in the quiet of a warm, cozy snow globe.

This morning, I tried a new way of journaling called Immanuel journaling. I’d heard friends talk about it, and somehow the instructions found their way into my lap while I was looking for something else. The practice is simple but profound—conversing with God and holding the pen as He responds.

The prompts invite curiosity:
What is God’s perspective as He sees you right now? What does He hear you thinking? What does He notice as you live inside your frustrations or hold your desires?

As I wrote, I sensed that God saw my stuckness before I did. (Which, honestly, shouldn’t surprise me.)

Almost immediately, my mind went to the times I’ve been physically stuck in snow. What do we do first?
We try harder.
We give it more gas.
And usually—dig ourselves into a deeper rut.

Spinning the tires often feels like the only option—until it isn’t.

Next, we look for traction—kitty litter, a shovel, something to place under the tires. But what struck me most this time was remembering another option: putting the car in reverse and easing out of the rut.

As I sat with that image, God reminded me of a season when I came before Him feeling stuck—unable to move forward. What I eventually realized was that I needed to return to the last thing I had clearly heard Him say.

It reminded me of Abraham. In Genesis 12, during a famine, Abraham went down to Egypt. It made sense. It was a practical response. But it wasn’t where God had called him to stay. In time, Abraham returned to the place where he had first built an altar. He went back to the direction God had originally given him.

We all experience our own versions of famine. This world is not as it’s meant to be. And our human instinct is to do something—to fix, manage, push harder. Often, those well-intended efforts become our version of spinning the tires.

I found myself circling back to a simple question: What is the last thing I remember the Lord telling me?

God speaks in many ways. I’m certainly not His voice. But one way my own heart has softened—and I’ve found more room to think and feel—has been through a creative process.

Sometimes the body knows how to move before the words arrive. There’s a kind of permission in that—letting the hands respond without striving. Small movements can loosen what’s been stuck and allow something to shift, gently and without force.

I keep noticing how often creativity comes up in conversation—something people once loved, or something they’re quietly curious about. And just as often, it gets crowded out by all the good reasons not to make space for it.

And I’ll be honest—having a creative process has felt surprisingly good to me. Not dramatic. Not life-altering. Just good in a quiet, settling way. It’s not for everyone. But if it stirs even a little curiosity in you, I’d love to invite you into something simple, imperfect, and shared.

There’s a growing creative challenge called The 100 Day Project, which begins February 22. I hovered on the edges last year and felt drawn to step in more fully this time. The idea is not mastery, but practice. Showing up. Letting something unfold.

This might be the perfect time to experiment—together. Five to ten minutes most days.
Maybe that looks like this:
A table with materials left out.
An open posture.
Permission to be imperfect.

For those who already have a craft, this can be a way to make space again. For those who don’t, it can be a starting point—no pressure, no performance.

If it feels helpful, I’m wondering about meeting once a week on Zoom. Nothing formal—just 30 minutes to check in, encourage one another, and not do this alone.

And sometimes, of course, getting unstuck means asking for help. When a car is stuck in the snow, it often takes someone pushing alongside—or even a tow—to get free.

Movement sometimes comes through others.

That’s part of what coaching offers. Someone walking with you. Helping you see options, apply traction, and move out of the rut you’ve been spinning in. If you’re feeling stuck and curious about working together, I’d love to explore that with you.

I wonder if you’d help me by taking a moment to fill out this short questionnaire. It’s simply a way for me to listen—to learn what you’re curious about and how you might want to engage. Even a “no” helps. It lets me know these words aren’t disappearing into a quiet vacuum.

You’re not alone in the stuck places.
And there may be more than one way forward.

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If you want to learn more about The 100 Day Project (which begins February 22), I’ve linked to a Substack post that explains it well. → [link]

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