When you don’t want it like you think you do

Everyone says they want it.

Breakthrough. Purpose. Destiny.

The calling. The crown. The fire of God.

But here’s the uncomfortable truth:

You want to want it,

but you may not actually want it…

at least not like you think you do.

You admire hunger from a distance.

You post about fire, but won’t stay on the altar.

You love the sound of passion, but not the price of it.

Because real passion doesn’t perform.

It persists.

It outlasts delay. It defies discouragement. It walks through silence and keeps burning when no one is watching.

You confuse the loudest person in the room with the most passionate.

You think because someone shouts or shakes, they must burn brighter.

But noise isn’t proof.

Motion isn’t momentum.

Energy isn’t endurance.

Passion isn’t proven in the beginning.

It’s proven when everything in you wants to quit—

and you don’t.

It’s not how fast you start.

It’s how much it takes to stop you.

And for some, it’s frighteningly little.

A delay. A denial. A detour.

A “no” from man becomes a “no” from God in your heart.

One unanswered prayer, and suddenly you’re unsure you ever heard Him at all.

If you have to be hyped to keep going, it’s not passion.

If it only lasts when it’s easy, it’s not hunger.

If the only time you pray is when the lights are on,

you’re not in love with Him—you’re in love with the idea of being used.

Here’s the bottom line:

You don’t want it bad enough

if you’re still waiting for convenience to line up with calling.

You don’t want it bad enough

if you need applause to keep going.

You don’t want it bad enough

if you gave God your conditions before you gave Him your “yes.

The truth is, you want to want it.

But that won’t get you there.

God doesn’t move for the lukewarm.

He doesn’t reward the almost-committed.

And He doesn’t give fire to those who refuse to bleed.

You want the finish line, but you’re negotiating the race.

You want the oil, but not the crushing.

You want resurrection without the tomb.

So let me ask you—

How much does it take to stop you?

That’s your real level of passion.

Not what you say. Not what you feel.

What it takes to break you.

If you’re tired of pretending to be passionate,

maybe it’s time to ask for real fire again.

Not the emotional kind.

The kind that consumes.