Saying yes has always felt like the easiest way to help. A small word, quick to speak, easy to offer. Like a pebble dropped into a pond, it rarely feels like much at first.

But I’ve learned that every yes sends ripples through my days, my energy, and my purpose. One yes becomes another. Then another. And soon, the water that once felt calm and clear grows cloudy with commitments I never meant to collect.

Here in Alaska, where June’s sun refuses to set and every hour begs to be filled, the temptation to say yes to everything feels especially strong. Every conversation feels like it could stretch into the middle of the night, with no clear signal for when to head home. Every opportunity feels like a golden thread I can’t bear to let slip through my fingers. The hiking trails beckon with the promise of adventure, and my mind justifies every yes by whispering that soon, the days will grow shorter and those endless chances will retreat as fast as a December sunrise.

But every yes carries a hidden cost. And when your soul starts paying with exhaustion, resentment, and scattered purpose, even the smallest yes can become the heaviest burden.

I’ve learned that my purpose isn’t measured by the weight of what I carry. It’s measured by the faithfulness of what I choose to hold.

Why saying “yes” can be easier than standing firm

There is something deeply satisfying about being the one who shows up. It feels good to say, “I can do that.” And when you do, you quickly become the one who meets every need, who fills every gap, who refuses to let anyone down.

For years, I wore that role like armor. I told myself I was being faithful. I convinced myself that serving others, no matter the cost, was noble. I believed that every “yes” was building my reputation, my relationships, and my legacy.

What I couldn’t see was that every yes also carried a silent no. I was silently saying “no” to my own rest, “no” to the commitments that mattered most, “no” to the quiet voice of God that often whispers when the world is shouting.

The price you pay when you say “yes” too often

When you say yes to everything, you begin to fracture inside. Your energy scatters. Your focus blurs. Your purpose feels diluted, like a cup of strong coffee stretched too far with water.

You start to resent the very things you once felt called to. The joy of serving others turns into a weight you can’t put down. The pride you once felt in being the helper starts to sour into bitterness. And the worst part is that no one else can see it.

Because on the outside, you still look like the strong one. The reliable one. The one who always shows up.

But on the inside, you know the truth. You know that every “yes” costs not only a slice of your time, but also a piece of your peace. You know that every time you agree to something that isn’t aligned with who you are becoming, you’re telling your own soul that her needs come last.

Learning to listen to the quieter voice

One of the hardest lessons I’ve learned is that discernment isn’t just about saying no to the bad things. It’s about saying no to the good things that are not meant for you right now.

Sometimes the cost of people-pleasing is the erosion of your own integrity. Not because you intend to deceive, but because every time you say yes to avoid disappointing someone else, you quietly disappoint yourself.

Faithful without overcommitment

In 1 Corinthians 9:22, Paul said he became “all things to all people” to reach them where they were. I love that passage because it reminds me that we are called to serve others and meet them in their need. But it does not mean saying “yes” to every request they have.

It means discerning which opportunities align with the mission God has placed in your hands and trusting Him to fill the gaps you cannot.

You were not created to please everyone. You were made to be faithful to the path God has called you to walk.

A question to carry with you

Before you say “yes” again, ask yourself this: “Does this commitment align with who I am becoming, or does it pull me back into who I used to be?”

If it calls you higher, lean in. If it pulls you away from your purpose, let it go.

Because it’s easy to forget that rest and alignment matter just as much as movement, just like it can be here in Alaska where the sun barely sets in June.

You were not created to please everyone. You were created to live a life of purpose, integrity, and deep-rooted joy.

Dr Barbara

Want to go deeper?

I write about this in Two Streets Named Hard, especially in Chapter 5. If rest has felt out of reach—or like something you have to “earn”—this chapter might help you rethink what it really means to lead from alignment.

👉 Get the book on Amazon

And if you’ve already read the book, thank you.

Post a quick review, reply here, and I’ll send you an invitation to my private book club where we explore how to make these shifts stick—not as theory, but as daily rhythms that support your real life.