One of the great challenges I’ve faced in life is learning to say no. Whether we want to admit it or not, we do possess this power. But like many things in life, there is a counterforce that creates a tug-of-war between wanting to please and risking disappointment, between our desire to be liked and the risk of being loathed.
I fight this battle almost daily. Should I accept this invitation? Do I commit to this project? If I say yes, I know I will please those extending the invitation, but what will I compromise in return? Family? Health? Other commitments or relationships?
I’m glad I’m not the only one. Author Greg McKeown writes:
Whether it’s an old friend who invites you to dinner or a boss who asks you to take on an important and high-profile project, or a neighbor who begs you to help with the school cake sale, the very thought of saying no literally brings us physical discomfort. We feel guilty. We don’t want to let someone down. We are worried about damaging the relationship. But these emotions muddle our clarity. They distract us from the reality of the fact that either we can say no and regret it for a few minutes, or we can say yes and regret it for days, weeks, months, or even years (Essentialism, 135).
In her usual succinct fashion, Anne Lamott reminds us, “No is a complete sentence” (ibid., 163).
The power to say no is a gift. I suggest we can accept this gift and use it wisely by asking three simple questions:
• Does saying yes align with God’s purpose and mission?
• Does saying yes align with God’s plan unfolding in my life?
• Does saying yes align with the person God has created me to be?
Not all decisions, of course, will be life-altering or high-stakes. Should I accept this invitation to lunch tomorrow? God’s purpose, plan, and the person He has created me to be may not inform my decision to a one-hour lunch meeting…but it might. What I find is that when I pause long enough to pray and ask myself these three questions, I gain greater clarity about which answer to give (cp. James 4:13-17). In essence, I “take myself off the hook” and put God in the chairman’s seat of my life.
The church I serve just started a 21-day period of fasting. Fasting is one of the most tangible ways we practice this sacred “no.” When we fast, we say no to something good—food, comfort, distraction—in order to say a deeper yes to God’s presence, clarity, and direction. It trains our hearts and bodies to remember that we are not ruled by our appetites, but by our surrender.
The greatest model for effectively and graciously declining every request and opportunity thrust upon us is Jesus Himself. In a moment of hurried ministry demands, the disciples found Jesus praying, of all things, by Himself, and they said (perhaps with a hint of chastisement), “Everyone is looking for you!” But Jesus, with great clarity about God’s purpose, plan, and who He was, responded, “Let us go on to the next towns, that I may preach there also, for that is why I came” (Mark 1:38). Jesus knew who He was and why He was sent—and therefore had no qualms with using the power to say no.
Two weeks into 2026, and already the year is asking: what will you say yes to? The breakthrough you’ve been praying for may be hiding on the other side of a well-chosen no.
