The church board meeting had been going for two hours when someone finally asked the question everyone was thinking: Why hadn’t the youth pastor shown up for the last three events he’d planned?
The board chair cleared his throat. “I’ve been praying about it,” he said, folding his hands. “Just really seeking the Lord’s wisdom on this situation.”
Translation: I don’t want to have this conversation.
Three months later, the youth pastor quit via email, the teenagers felt abandoned, and the board was still “praying about it.”
I’ve been watching this pattern for years—how we Christians have perfected the art of using spiritual language to avoid spiritual community. We’ve created a whole vocabulary of holy-sounding escape routes, phrases that shut down dialogue while making us sound more faithful, not less.
Here are seven phrases I hear constantly in churches, and what’s really happening when we use them:
1. “I’ll pray about it”
This might be the Swiss Army knife of Christian avoidance. Someone asks you to help with VBS? “I’ll pray about it.” Join the small group? “Let me pray about that.” Have a difficult conversation about your marriage? “We should really pray about this first.”
Don’t misunderstand—prayer is essential. Sometimes we genuinely need to pray before deciding. The problem is when prayer becomes procrastination. But I’ve noticed that “I’ll pray about it” often means “I’ve already decided no, but this sounds more spiritual than refusing.”
I watched a church almost lose their building because every financial decision was met with “Let’s pray about it” for months. They prayed their way right into foreclosure. Sometimes God’s answer to prayer is “I already gave you a brain and a spreadsheet. Use them.”
What to say instead: “I need time to think about this” or “I don’t think I can commit to that right now” or even a simple “Let me check my calendar and get back to you by Friday.”
2. “God gave me peace about this”
The nuclear option of Christian conversation stoppers. Once someone plays the “God’s peace” card, what can anyone say? Are you going to argue with the Almighty’s emotional gift-giving?
A couple I know used this phrase to justify buying a house they couldn’t afford (“God gave us peace”), leaving a church without explanation (“We have peace about moving on”), and pulling their kids from school mid-year (“The Lord’s peace confirmed it”). Their trail of financial ruin and confused relationships suggests God’s peace might have been confused with their preferences.
The apostle Paul had God’s peace while getting shipwrecked, beaten, and imprisoned. Peace isn’t the absence of difficulty or discussion—it’s confidence in God through both.
What to say instead: “I’ve decided to do this, and here’s my thinking…” or “I’m leaning toward this decision—what concerns do you have?” or “I feel good about this choice, but I’d value your perspective.”
3. “I need to guard my heart”
Proverbs 4:23 has become the Christian ghosting verse. Don’t want to date someone? “I’m guarding my heart.” Friend getting too close? “Heart-guarding season.” Church community expecting vulnerability? “Really focused on guarding my heart right now.”
A woman in our church “guarded her heart” so effectively that she ended up with no close relationships at all. She’d turned a verse about protecting yourself from evil into permission for permanent emotional distance.
Yes, we should be careful about what influences us. But I’ve noticed that people who constantly talk about guarding their hearts rarely mention the verses about bearing one another’s burdens or loving deeply.
What to say instead: “I need some space right now” or “I’m not ready for a deeper friendship yet” or “I’m working through some things and need to go slow with relationships.”
4. “The Lord told me…”
The conversation apocalypse. Once someone claims direct divine communication, debate is over. Who’s going to risk disagreeing with God?
God does speak to His people. But He rarely contradicts His Word or His community. I’ve heard “The Lord told me” justify everything from questionable financial decisions to leaving a spouse to starting church splits. Funny how the Lord always seems to tell people exactly what they already wanted to do.
A pastor friend puts it this way: “When someone says God told them something, I ask, ‘What did your community say when you shared this?’ If they haven’t told anyone else, I’m suspicious God started with me.”
What to say instead: “I’ve been thinking/sensing/feeling that…” or “I believe God might be leading me to…” or “Through prayer and counsel, I’m convinced that…”
5. “I’m just in a season…”
The eternal Christian excuse. Can’t commit to serving? “I’m in a season.” Won’t address that conflict? “It’s just this season I’m in.” Haven’t been to church in six months? “You know, seasons.”
Biblical seasons had endpoints—seedtime and harvest, summer and winter. But Christian “seasons” can last decades. I know someone who’s been in a “season of rest” for twelve years. That’s not a season; that’s a lifestyle.
One small group leader started responding to “season” excuses by asking, “How will you know when this season ends?” The deer-in-headlights responses revealed that most people hadn’t thought that far ahead.
What to say instead: “I can’t commit to that right now because of other obligations” or “I need to focus on my family/work/health until [specific date]” or “I’m available to help with [specific thing] but not take on the whole role.”
6. “Let go and let God”
The spiritual bypassing greatest hit. Facing a difficult decision? Let go and let God. Need to have a hard conversation? Release it to Jesus. Marriage struggling? Just let go and let God work.
Of course, surrendering to God is biblical. But surrender includes surrendering to the work He calls us to do. This phrase turns faith into passivity, as if God prefers us to be spiritual jellyfish floating wherever the current takes us. But Scripture is full of active verbs: seek, knock, strive, press on, fight, run. Even waiting on the Lord is presented as active, not passive.
A couple came for counseling after years of “letting go and letting God” fix their marriage. They’d let go of date nights, honest communication, and working on their issues. Shockingly, God didn’t fix what they refused to address.
What to say instead: “We need to work on this together—here’s what I can do” or “I’m struggling with this—can we get some help?” or “I need to take action on my part while trusting God with the outcome.”
7. “I don’t feel led”
The polite Christian “no” that can’t be questioned. Don’t feel led to help with childcare? Join the prayer team? Give financially? The leading of the Spirit becomes a get-out-of-service-free card.
Here’s what I’ve noticed: People rarely “feel led” to do unglamorous work. Nobody feels led to stack chairs or clean bathrooms. But platform ministries? Suddenly everyone’s internal GPS is receiving clear divine signals.
An older saint once told me, “In sixty years of following Jesus, I’ve noticed He usually leads me to do things I don’t want to do. If I only did what I ‘felt led’ to do, I’d still be the selfish person I was at twenty.”
What to say instead: “That’s not where my gifts are, but I could help with…” or “I’m already committed to [specific ministry]” or simply “I’m not able to do that, but thank you for asking.”
The cost of holy avoidance
Here’s what breaks my heart: These phrases often come from genuine believers who love God. We’ve just learned to use spiritual language as armor instead of bridge-building tools. We’ve turned the vocabulary of faith into barriers to community.
But Christian community requires more than Christian vocabulary. It requires honesty. Can you imagine if the early church talked like us?
“Paul, will you go to Macedonia?” “I’ll pray about it.” (Never goes) “Should we share our possessions?” “Let me seek God’s peace about that.” (Keeps everything) “Peter, do you love me?” “Lord, I’m just in a season right now…”
The gospel creates a community of people who tell the truth—about their struggles, their doubts, their needs, and yes, their boundaries. But truth-telling requires actual words, not spiritual smoke screens.
Speaking truth in love (with actual truth)
What if we tried radical honesty instead?
- Instead of “I’ll pray about it,” what if we said, “I need to think about that” or even “I don’t think I can commit to that”?
- Instead of “God gave me peace,” we could say, “I’ve decided to do this, and I’d love your input.”
- Instead of “guarding my heart,” we might admit, “I’m scared of being hurt” or “I need some distance right now.”
The early church was messy, contentious, and full of difficult conversations. Paul confronted Peter to his face. The Jerusalem council involved fierce debate. They worked through conflicts with words, not spiritual bypasses.
If we want real community—the kind where people know us, challenge us, and help us grow—we need to stop using faith language to avoid faith community. God isn’t honored by our holy-sounding escape routes. He’s honored when we love each other enough to show up, speak truth, and stay in the conversation.
Even when we’d rather just pray about it.
