Locking In: The Power of a Made-Up Mind

There's a profound difference between being inspired and being committed. Inspiration gets you started, but only decision carries you when the excitement fades. As we step into a new year, many of us are filled with enthusiasm about what God will do. We post scriptures on social media, declare our faith, and announce our intentions. But somewhere between resistance and routine—between when it gets hard and when it gets boring—many people abandon their plow.

They don't call it quitting, though. They dress it up in spiritual language: "I'm being led in a different direction" or "I'm in a different season." But seasons never cancel your assignment, and time doesn't change truth. What really happened is that the cost became clearer, the applause grew quieter, and the commitment was never truly settled in the first place.

The Line in the Sand

In Luke chapter 9, we find Jesus at a pivotal moment. For eight chapters, He had been healing people, delivering them, performing miracles. But then something shifts. The text says, "When the time had come for Him to be received up, He steadfastly set His face to go to Jerusalem."

Jesus made up His mind. Before the cross, before the nails, before the blood, He decided. This is crucial: Jesus didn't decide to obey when it became painful. He decided before the pain showed up. That's the difference between being undecided and being decided.
Undecided obedience is always waiting for better conditions. It keeps options open, just in case obedience costs more than we're ready to lose. We love God, but we keep an exit open. We serve God until it becomes inconvenient. We follow Jesus as long as it doesn't mess with our schedule, our comfort, or our plans.

Think about the decisions you've made that you never debated. Nobody prays about whether to brush their teeth. Nobody fasts over whether to go to work. Nobody negotiates running a red light. Those decisions are already settled before pressure arrives. The same should be true of our commitment to Christ.

When Commitment Creates Tension

The Samaritans didn't receive Jesus "because His face was set for the journey to Jerusalem." They rejected Him not because He was confrontational, but because He was so decided. His commitment was visible on His face. He was so locked in that it made people uncomfortable.

If your obedience never creates tension, it's because you've never confronted anything. Following Jesus will make people misunderstand you. The issue they have isn't that you're doing something wrong—you're just too committed to what He called you to do.

At some point, people should be upset with you because you're too committed. "No, I can't engage in that conversation—I'm committed to Jesus." "No, I can't participate in that—I'm too committed to Jesus." This isn't self-righteousness; it's simply the natural result of a made-up mind.

Three Followers, Three Exits

As Jesus journeyed toward Jerusalem, three people approached Him with varying levels of commitment, and each revealed a different exit sign people take when following Christ.

The Exit of Comfort: The first volunteer said, "Lord, I will follow You wherever You go." It sounded bold and faithful until Jesus responded, "Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay His head." This man was attracted to Jesus' status as a rabbi, assuming provision and housing came with the territory. Jesus exposed his exit: "You'll follow Me as long as it doesn't cost you your security."

The Exit of Delay: Jesus invited the second man to follow Him, but the man responded, "Lord, let me first go and bury my father." This sounds honorable—burying one's father was the highest religious duty in Torah. But Jesus saw through it: "Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and preach the kingdom of God." The man's delay was dressed up in devotion, but it was still a delay. He had convinced himself this was an honorable reason not to commit.

The Exit of Looking Back: The third follower said, "I will follow You, Lord, but let me first say goodbye to those at my house." Again, this seems reasonable. But Jesus responded with one of the most challenging statements in Scripture: "No one, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God."

Breaking Up Fallow Ground

Hosea 10:12 says, "Break up your fallow ground, for it is time to seek the Lord." Fallow ground isn't cursed or evil—it's just been neglected. It once produced something, it once yielded something, but it hasn't been worked in a while.
That's why there's resistance when you put the plow to the ground. Some of us aren't fighting the devil—we're plowing places we stopped tending to. Hard ground doesn't mean you missed God. Hard ground often means you're returning to something you abandoned.
Here's the danger: fallow ground never stays empty. If you don't tend to it, weeds grow. Visibility drops. You can't see God like you used to because the brush is up and the weeds are thick. What you don't work works against you.

Neglect creates shelter for snakes. Resistance on the ground only means you're closer to breakthrough. Seeds will choke themselves out if the ground isn't soft enough, so you have to keep plowing. The plow doesn't just prepare the soil—it exposes what's been hiding in your field.

Keeping Your Eyes Fixed

In ancient farming, plowers would fix their eyes on a tree or stone at the end of the field to ensure they plowed straight rows. If they looked back, the rows would become crooked, and crooked rows choke plants when they try to grow.

Jesus said, "I set My face to go to Jerusalem." Hebrews tells us, "For the joy that was set before Him, He endured the cross, despising the shame." Jesus kept His eyes on the tree—the one He would die on. He kept His eyes on the stone—the stone which the builders rejected that became the chief cornerstone.

If you're going to make up your mind, you must keep your eye on the tree and the stone. Everything else is a distraction from the gospel: He died for you. He rose for you. He ascended for you. He's coming back for you.

The Lock-In Effect

When the cost of what you're going after doesn't stop you but settles you, that's what I call the lock-in effect. Once you pay the real price for something, you stop debating your direction and stop defending yourself. Turning back doesn't feel sinful—it feels inconsistent with who you've become.

This year, treat God like you treat your manager. Your manager doesn't have to tell you to arrive on time. You make your children late for school to get to work for your boss. What if you treated your commitment to Christ with the same urgency?

Stop using sickness that only shows up on Sundays. Stop making excuses for why you can't read the Bible, attend church, or participate in community. Lock in. Make up your mind. Set your face. Put your hand to the plow and don't look back.

The question isn't whether you believe. The question is: Have you made up your mind?

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