When the Answer Is No

I’ve come to the conclusion that we live in a society that just gives kids whatever they want.

No, seriously.

I genuinely can’t remember the last time I was out in public and saw a toddler and thought, man… that kid was raised right

Most of the time I’m just trying to avoid eye contact so I don’t somehow get recruited into whatever hostage situation is unfolding in aisle seven.

Maybe that’s why I take so much pride when somebody compliments how well-mannered and behaved my kids are.

I know they’re kids. They’re going to have bad days, get loud, push boundaries, and test every ounce of patience I have. But hearing someone say they were respectful or behaved well genuinely means something to me.

Part of why this has been on my mind is something I recently read in 12 Rules for Life.

One of Jordan Peterson’s rules is:

At first, that sounds a little harsh.

But the more I thought about it, the more I understood what he was getting at.

Maybe that’s just a me thing, but I’ve always felt like part of loving your kids is preparing them to function in a world that isn’t always going to bend around what they want.

Not because we expect them to walk around like perfect little robots. But respect, manners, boundaries, and self-control have to be taught somewhere.

And a big part of that is teaching them how to hear the word no.

No, you can’t have that.

No, you don’t need that.

No, you can’t do that just because you want to.

Not because I enjoy disappointing them. Not because I want to make their lives harder.

Sometimes I simply know something they don’t.

The funny part is, we don’t really outgrow that struggle.

We still want things.

We still convince ourselves we know what’s best.

And sometimes the hardest thing to accept is that wanting something badly doesn’t automatically mean it’s good for us.

Maturity isn’t reaching a point where nobody can tell you no anymore. Maybe it’s becoming capable of hearing no without assuming something has gone wrong.

And this is where being a father makes my relationship with Elohiym easier for me to understand.

I tell my kids no all the time.

Sometimes I know what will happen if I let them have their way. Sometimes I can see farther down the road than they can.

They’re thinking about what they want right now.

I’m thinking about what happens afterward.

They might think I’m being unfair.

I might know I’m protecting them.

They might think I’m keeping something good from them.

I might know it isn’t good for them at all.

And when I look at it that way, I have to ask myself why I struggle so much when my Father does the same thing to me.

We’ve all read this scripture:

Lean not on your own understanding.

That’s a lot easier to read than it is to live.

Because my own understanding usually has an opinion.

I know what I want.

I know which direction makes the most sense to me.

And sometimes I’ve already made the decision in my head before I ever stop to ask Elohiym what He wants.

Growing up, my father taught me that before making a big decision in life, I should open my Bible, read, and be willing to accept the answer I found there—even when it wasn’t the answer I wanted.

And let me tell you, some of those no’s hurt like hell.

Other times, I decided to take the wheel for a spin myself.

Turns out I’m not always the best navigator.

I’ve ignored the direction, made the choice I wanted to make anyway, and gotten chokeslammed by life a few exits down the road.

Looking back, some of the lessons that hurt the most came from the times I already had direction.

I just didn’t like the direction I was given.

There have been times when I wasn’t really asking Elohiym for direction at all. I had already decided what I wanted to do and was basically hoping He would sign off on it.

That’s where obedience gets uncomfortable.

There’s another verse that puts that into perspective:

Saul had already been given direction. The problem wasn’t that he didn’t know what Elohiym wanted. He chose to do it his own way, then tried to justify the disobedience by pointing to the sacrifice.

How often do we do the same thing?

We know the direction.

We choose what we want anyway.

Then we try to clean it up afterward.

Elohiym would rather have my obedience when the answer hurts than my apology after I ignored it.

It’s easy to trust the Father when His answer lines up perfectly with yours.

It’s a lot harder when everything in you wants one thing and His Word keeps pointing you somewhere else.

But I expect my own kids to trust me in those moments.

I expect them to believe that when I say no, there’s a reason—even when they don’t fully understand it.

I expect them to trust that I can see something they can’t.

Maybe Elohiym asks the same thing from me.

And I’m saying all that to say this:

The next time you’re faced with a decision you already know you have strong feelings about, maybe stop before you move and ask Elohiym what He would have you do.

Not what you hope He says.

Not what would be easiest.

Not what gets you what you want the fastest.

Think about the prayer so many of us teach our kids:

Your will be done.

We teach our kids to say it.

The harder part is living like we mean it.

Because His will being done means mine won’t always get its way.

And when those two things point in different directions, that’s where obedience becomes real.

One leap of faith could snowball into a version of yourself only He knew existed.

Until next week,

Keep compounding.

Javier