This morning, my Bible was open to Genesis 19.

My laptop was open beside it.

My Already Loved mug was sitting in the corner.

And right there on the page was the sentence I didn’t want to read:

“This explains why that village was known as Zoar, which means ‘little place.’” (Verse 21-22)

I sat there for a second.

Because before I opened my Bible, I had been working on a strategy doc for AlreadyLoved.

Then a brand voice doc.

Important stuff.

Useful stuff.

But the kind of useful stuff that can become a hiding place when obedience requires visibility.

The story in Genesis 19 is intense.

Lot and his family are being rescued from Sodom before the city is destroyed. The angels tell him clearly: run for your life, don’t look back, and don’t stop in the plain. Run to the hills. (At this moment, my mind went to Lot’s wife… but Lot made a bad choice here too… I never noticed this before)

But Lot hesitates.

Then he negotiates.

He basically says, “The hills are too much. Let me go to that little town instead.”

That little town was called Zoar.

Zoar means “little place.”

Smalltown.

A place close enough to escape destruction, but smaller than the place God told him to run toward.

And that’s what hit me.

Lot wasn’t refusing rescue.

He was shrinking it.

He wasn’t saying, “No, God.”

He was saying, “Can we make obedience more manageable?”

And I felt exposed.

Because apparently my Zoar had bullet points and a Google Doc title.

I know that prayer.

Not the exact words, maybe.

But the posture.

“God, I know You called me there… but what about here?”

“God, I know You gave me this dream… but what if I made it smaller?”

“God, I know You said move… but what if I just kept preparing?”

That one hurt.

Because I’ve been dragging my feet with Already Loved.

Not because I don’t believe in it.

I do.

Deeply.

I believe kids need to know they are loved by God before the world teaches them to earn it.

I believe parents need tools that help speak identity over their children.

I believe this matters.

But somehow, the more it matters, the easier it becomes to delay.

To refine.

To overthink.

To wait until I feel more credible, more ready, more certain, more impressive.

And underneath all that?

Steven Pressfield calls it “Resistance” in his book The War of Art. (a great book on this topic)

It’s Fear.

Fear dressed up as wisdom.

Fear wearing the glasses of strategy.

Fear holding a clipboard labeled stewardship.

Because the scary thing is this:

I wasn’t disobeying by doing something obviously wrong.

I was delaying by doing something technically useful.

And that might be the most respectable kind of disobedience.

Lot had angels in his house and still thought he needed to manage the situation himself.

That part stopped me.

Because I can pray, worship, read Scripture, talk about trusting God — and still shut the door on Him when it comes time to act.

I can believe God is powerful on Sunday and then obey fear on Monday.

I can say, “Lord, have Your way,” and then spend the rest of the week actively building a backup plan just in case He doesn’t.

And maybe I’m not the only one.

Maybe you have a Zoar too.

A smaller version of the thing God actually put in your heart.

A safer version.

A more explainable version.

A version that won’t make people question you.

A version that lets you avoid the risk of being seen trying.

Because the hills required trust.

Zoar only required survival.

And that’s the trap.

Zoar feels responsible.

Zoar feels modest.

Zoar feels realistic.

But if God said hills, then Zoar is not humility.

It’s negotiation.

The question I’m sitting with today is simple:

Where have I renamed fear “wisdom”?

Because faith does not mean pretending the obstacles aren’t real.

They are real.

The money is real.

The uncertainty is real.

The lack of experience is real.

The fear of being misunderstood is real.

The possibility of failing publicly is real. (maybe thats why I hide… so “when” I fail its private…)

But God is real too.

And if I spend more time staring at the obstacles than listening to what God has said, I will always find a reason to choose Smalltown.

Noah built before rain made sense.

Abraham left before he had the full map.

Peter stepped before water became solid.

At some point, obedience has to move before certainty arrives.

That’s the part I don’t like.

I want clarity first.

Then courage.

God often gives just enough clarity to require courage.

So today, my prayer is not just, “Lord, help me dream bigger.”

That sounds nice.

But it’s not enough.

My prayer is:

Lord, help me trust You bigger.

Help me stop shrinking what You said to fit what I can control.

Help me stop negotiating with fear.

Help me stop calling delay discernment when You already told me to move.

Help me run to the hills.

Not because I’m impressive.

Not because I’m ready.

Not because I have every answer.

But because You are with me.

And that has to become enough.

So here’s my small act of obedience:

I’m going to speak about Already Loved more clearly. LOUDER.

Not perfectly.

Not constantly.

Not with hype.

But faithfully.

Because somewhere there is a child who needs to hear, “You are already loved.”

And somewhere there is a parent who needs help saying it.

And somewhere in me, there is still a man tempted to settle for Zoar when God is calling him to soar.

Not today.

See you next Friday.

I’m building Already Loved to help children know their beloved identity before the world teaches them to perform for it.

If you want to follow the journey or pray with me as we build, reply “Already Loved” and I’ll keep you close. Or visit and share “alreadylovedkids.com”