God didn’t come to partner with your plans. He came to rule your life.
He’s not your cheerleader—He’s your King.

God Is Not a Life Coach—He’s King
By Jacqueline, the Unimportant Homemaker
We live in a world dripping with self-help slogans, personal empowerment mantras, and “you got this, girl!” messaging. It’s not hard to find motivational quotes slapped onto coffee mugs and Instagram captions reminding us to “trust the journey,” “manifest greatness,” or “just believe in yourself.”
And somewhere in that cultural fog, many women—yes, even Christian ones—begin to treat God like a spiritual consultant. Someone they meet with when they need encouragement. A cosmic life coach. A gentle therapist. A motivational speaker in the sky.
But let me say this as plainly and firmly as I can:
God didn’t come to partner with your plans. He came to rule your life.
He’s not your cheerleader—He’s your King.
The “Jesus Vibes” Trap
Our culture loves Jesus… in theory. The aesthetic of Jesus is popular right now. People love the idea of a peaceful, wise, accepting figure who wants them to love themselves and chase their dreams. A Jesus who "gets" them. Who’s there to help them realize their potential and sprinkle some divine glitter on their goals.
But that Jesus doesn’t exist.
The real Christ said things like:
“If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.”
—Luke 9:23
“Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord,’ and not do what I tell you?”
—Luke 6:46
“You are my friends if you do what I command you.”
—John 15:14
That’s not a life coach talking. That’s a King issuing decrees. And those decrees aren’t optional—they're the dividing line between true disciples and casual fans.
Jesus Didn’t Come to Improve You—He Came to Own You
There’s a dangerous belief hidden in modern Christianity that whispers, “God just wants to make your life better.” So we invite Him into our lives as if we’re doing Him a favor—giving Him access to clean up the mess, help us feel better, and make us more productive and confident.
But friend, Jesus didn’t die to give you a slightly improved version of the same old life.
He died to put your old life to death.
He rose so that you might live entirely for Him.
The gospel isn’t self-help. It’s self-death. The Christian life begins not when you believe in yourself, but when you crucify yourself—with Christ.
“I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.”
—Galatians 2:20
Lord of All or Not Lord at All
We don’t get to segment our lives into categories—"this area belongs to Jesus, and this part I’m still figuring out." He doesn’t accept half-hearted obedience. He doesn’t play backup singer to your goals. He doesn’t want to co-sign your plans.
He wants lordship—total, complete, unapologetic lordship.
He’s not asking to help you live your life. He’s demanding that you lose it for His sake.
“Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.”
—Matthew 10:39
That’s not a pep talk. That’s a summons to surrender.
A Kingdom, Not a Brand
Our generation has turned spirituality into branding. Personal growth is the new religion, and Jesus has been rebranded as the ultimate life enhancer. But He didn’t come to build your platform, balance your emotions, or help you “find your truth.”
He came to rule, to reign, and to redeem a people who would gladly bow before His throne, not wave His banner while still chasing their own glory.
“So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.”
—John 8:36
Final Words
Sisters, let’s be honest. It’s stupid to treat God like a life coach. It feels safer to keep Him at arm’s length, to invite Him into our struggles but not our schedules, into our pain but not our plans. But we don’t need another motivational figure.
We need a King.
A King who calls us out of ourselves, into holiness.
A King who doesn’t adjust to our dreams but commands our devotion.
A King who is worthy of all glory, all power, all praise—forever.
What about you? Is Jesus your therapist, your mascot… or your King?
Because He’s either Lord of all, or He’s not Lord at all.
- Jacqueline, the Unimportant Homemaker
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