originally victoria — unfiltered blog

You ever notice how when you start getting serious about your walk with God, some people suddenly start acting weird? It’s like the moment you stop laughing at certain jokes, stop entertaining toxic conversations, or stop going places that used to be part of your routine—you feel the distance. Not because you’ve changed for the worse, but because you’ve chosen to live differently. That’s the quiet cost of obedience.

Living for God doesn’t always make you popular. Actually, it often makes you stand out in uncomfortable ways. People start to say things like, “You’re doing too much,” or “You’ve changed,” or “Don’t judge me.” But the truth is—you didn’t say anything. You just stopped compromising. And that’s what makes people uncomfortable. When you start to walk in obedience, it exposes what others might still be justifying. Not intentionally. You’re not out here trying to make a statement. You’re just choosing purity when you could’ve settled. You’re choosing honesty when lying would be easier. You’re choosing to wait on God when everyone else is rushing into what “feels right.” And people notice. But here’s the hard part: sometimes the ones most offended by your obedience are the ones you love the most. Friends, family, people you used to be close to… They don’t always understand why you stopped doing what everyone else is doing. And when they feel convicted, it might come out as criticism. As distance. As rolled eyes or cold shoulders. But don’t let that make you shrink. Obedience will cost you some relationships. It will cost you comfort. It might even cost you the version of life you imagined for yourself. But what you gain in return is worth it—peace, clarity, strength, and closeness with God that the world can’t offer.

And no—obedience isn’t about being perfect. It’s about choosing God when it would be easier to choose yourself. It’s about saying, “I’d rather be misunderstood by people than be disconnected from God.” That’s not easy. But it’s real. Even Jesus dealt with this. He lived with full love and full truth—and people still rejected Him. So don’t be surprised when people resist your growth. Sometimes your obedience is the loudest sermon they’ve ever heard, even if you never say a word.

If you’re in that space right now—feeling isolated, wondering if it’s even worth it—hear this. You are not crazy for wanting more. You are not too “deep” for choosing holiness. You are not judgmental just because you won’t compromise. You are not alone. God sees you. And He’s proud of your quiet yes. The one you give Him behind closed doors, the one that doesn’t make sense to others, the one that costs you but draws you closer to Him. Just like Hannah, who poured out her soul in silent prayer and was misunderstood as drunk (1 Samuel 1:10-13), your unseen moments of surrender are not wasted. They are heard. They are holy.

Keep going, even when it’s lonely—like Elijah, hiding in a cave, convinced he was the only one left who hadn’t bowed to Baal (1 Kings 19:10). God reminded him that he wasn’t alone, and you aren’t either. Keep going when it’s awkward—like Noah, building an ark in the middle of dry land, ridiculed by those who had never seen rain (Genesis 6:13-22). Obedience may look foolish to the world, but it prepares you for what they can’t yet see. Keep going when people around you don’t understand—like Joseph, hated by his own brothers for the dream God placed in his heart (Genesis 37). That same dream would one day deliver nations. The people who walk in compromise will always feel uncomfortable around those who choose obedience. But your life isn’t about making others feel okay with lukewarm. It’s about staying faithful to the One who called you.

As Paul wrote, “For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? … If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ” (Galatians 1:10). Let the silence refine you—just like Moses, who spent forty years in obscurity before stepping into leadership (Exodus 3). Let the isolation deepen your dependence—like David, tending sheep alone, forgotten by his family, while God prepared him to be king (1 Samuel 16:11-13). Let the discomfort stretch your faith—like Esther, standing between fear and obedience, saying, “If I perish, I perish” (Esther 4:16). You’re not being left behind. You’re being set apart. And there’s a difference. As 2 Corinthians 6:17 reminds us: “Come out from among them and be separate.” In due time, God will show you why the hidden seasons mattered. Why the private sacrifices counted. Why the slow path was sacred. So take heart. Keep your eyes on Him. Keep saying yes. Because obedience may not always be loud—but it always echoes in eternity. And one day, you will hear the words that make every hidden yes worth it: “Well done, good and faithful servant” (Matthew 25:23). He’s worth it. Every single time.