Walking With Jesus: Finding Peace in the Ordinary
Not Just Sundays
Do God a favor the next time you…
gather with friends,
take a ride,
drive to work,
walk the dog,
converse with coworkers,
water the garden, drink your coffee, pay a bill, take a shower, respond to messages, etc.,
…bring Jesus with you.
Jesus isn’t just here for Sundays or emergencies—He wants to walk with us in the small, daily things.
Without Jesus, we participate in:
Complaining with friends
Lashing out at an animal or child
Cursing the guy who cut you off
Bitterness toward the customer who demands a change, etc.,
With Jesus, we experience:
Encouragement for those struggling
Compassion for misconceptions
Patience for unintentional actions
Gratitude for a loyal customer
Peace & contentment
It changes everything when you choose to bring Him with you.
It isn’t easy to refrain from gossip, complaining, negativity, or anger. In fact, those very things are human nature.
“For I know that good itself does not dwell in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out.”
In moments of contempt, worry, or fear, choosing Jesus may not make you popular, but it will make you whole.
“What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, I myself in my mind am a slave to God’s law, but in my sinful nature a slave to the law of sin.”
Instead of being a slave to the negativity, we can take Jesus by the hand and walk along the path He walked before us.
You won’t have to worry about feeling unfulfilled because with Jesus, you’ll be on a path to peace and eternal life with the Father in a place where it all makes sense.
It’s hard to make the choices of not partaking, but when we turn away from such, it’s all worth it in the end.
Where It Hit Me
“I can’t wait to get together with friends this weekend, it’s been long awaited since having our daughter! We have always had so much fun with Joe, Sarah, Tyler, and Claire,” she said to her husband as she visualized Joe and Sarah’s garage where they often gather. These friends weren’t just causal acquaintances—they had been through years of late nights, road trips, and countless conversations all the way from elementary school. They knew each other’s stories, and there was a comfort in being together that was hard to find elsewhere outside the small community.
The weekend comes and we head over to Joe & Sarah’s. The garage door is open, coolers and chairs in the floor, all set up for a good time—it’s been long awaited. We get the baby and her items out and all set up to finally sit down with our friends to enjoy a relaxing and fun time.
Conversations kick off following greetings and Sarah tells us about the hard time she’s been having with customer service. Tyler mentions politics. Claire’s car is in the shop for the 3rd time this year, and Joe can’t seem to catch a break in the workforce.
We encourage Sarah to be compassionate for her customers because they just want answers to their questions. We support Tyler with his views on politics and offer to help with some community support. We share with Claire that perseverance is worth it as good mechanics take time, and we show Joe some job listings we found right up his alley.
Our suggestions are passed over with how customers shouldn’t expect so much, politicians need to wake up, mechanics aren’t that difficult, and Joe doesn’t want to work too far from home.
The baby starts crying, I prepare myself to breastfeed while my husband grabs my water. I think to myself, “Gosh, I wish they would stop complaining, has it always been like this? We used to have so much fun.”
As I feed my daughter, the conversation fades and I reminisce to the fun we all used to have—driving around back roads, drinking parties, “deep” conversation we can hardly remember—now, embarrassed at such ignorance. Back then, fun was simple and fleeting. But as life changed and I began walking closer with Jesus, I realized true joy isn’t just about laughing or passing the time with dangerous habits—it’s about meaningful connection, encouragement, and peace. Fun was no longer an unconscious choice we were making but instead something deeper we now sought: time shared with those we love in a way that honors God rather than disappointments.
Sarah finally asks how work has been, I tell her I love my job and am excited for what’s to come. She goes on about how I am lucky that I get to do what I do and not have to worry about anything, followed by a snarky comment, “I wish I could stay home like you do.”
“I am blessed. I do love my life,” I said to her. “But it comes at a price, my husband and I are just fortunate enough to be willing to pay it.”
Joe talks about how nice it must be for my husband to provide for his family like he does with such a good job. What he doesn’t know is how my husband attends a job that is mentally burdening and he fights for goodness hourly most days. My husband, who often stays quiet until the right moment, speaks up gently: “Yeah, it does feel nice to be able to provide, though none is possible without God.” He doesn’t say it for effect—he says it because he lives it. It’s his way of bringing Jesus into even the most ordinary conversations.
Their faces go blank for a moment, and then the talk shifts back to complaints. I sit here wondering: Why do I feel so guilty for making good choices? Why does walking with Jesus make me feel like I no longer belong in the place I once did?
And that’s when it hits me: this is exactly what it means to bring Jesus with me. It doesn’t always make the room lighter or the conversation easier. Sometimes it means feeling out of place, choosing gratitude when others choose bitterness, or speaking truth when others dismiss it. It means knowing the joy I have isn’t luck or ease—it’s Christ. He paid the ultimate price for us and we have to willfully turn away from the empty habits and complaints that keep us stuck in bitterness. Choosing Jesus may set us apart, but it also sets us free—free to live with gratitude, to love deeply, and to walk with confidence in the joy He alone provides.
It gets close to bedtime and we announce our departure. Everyone makes a stab at how we must be getting old, given our decision to honor our bedtime routine to model good choices for our daughter. We shake it off as we pack up and say our goodbyes.
Our friends may not understand today what we meant about the price we pay to live the life we do, but we pray they will sooner than later.
During the drive home, we reflect on our experience together and make a decision to never compromise the presence of Jesus in our lives, even if it means standing apart—and to always do God a favor by bringing Him with us wherever we go.
With Him, Everything Changes
That night could have been just another secular, unfulfilling experience without Jesus.
But with Him, it became a chance to plant seeds, to live differently, and to choose joy over bitterness.
Maybe you’ve felt the same tension—that sting of guilt when your choices in following Christ set you apart. But my friend, that isn’t guilt at all. That’s evidence of transformation. As Paul reminds us in Romans 12:2: “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect.”
This doesn’t mean we should always stay in draining environments. God calls us to fellowship with those who lift us up—‘as iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another’ (Prov. 27:17). Whether we find ourselves among encouraging friends who sharpen us or standing in the middle of negativity—we can always choose to do what Jesus would do.
So my friend, what will it look like when you bring Jesus into your next drive, your next ride, or your next text message?
With Jesus, guilt becomes peace.
With Jesus, negativity loses its power.
With Jesus, we are whole.
So, do God a favor today—bring Jesus with you everywhere you go. Walking with Him now leads to peace today and eternal life with our Father tomorrow.
You’ll never regret the moments you walked with Him.