Drawn, Not Dragged

Part I: The Frictionless Life — When Convenience Becomes a Master

We live in an age that treats convenience almost as a holy virtue.
With a few taps on a screen, we can order a meal, purchase almost anything, speak with someone across the world,
watch a film, pay a bill, or avoid standing in a line.
Much of this is genuinely useful.
Convenience can be a mercy: a meal delivered to someone who is ill;
a video call or text with a faraway grandchild;
an accessible doorway for someone who cannot climb stairs.
Convenience itself is not the enemy.

But something changes when convenience becomes our master—
when we begin to assume that anything difficult, slow, uncomfortable,
or demanding must therefore be erroneous.
Then we may begin to seek a frictionless faith.
We may want prayer that always feels peaceful; worship that never inconveniences us;
forgiveness that requires no repentance; relationships that never demand patience;
and a life in Christ that fits comfortably around every other priority.
And when prayer feels dry, when getting to the Liturgy takes effort,
when fasting unsettles us, or when loving a difficult neighbour costs us,
we may wonder: “Why is this so difficult? Am I doing something wrong?”
Yet Christ never promised a frictionless life.

He did say, “Come to Me, all you who labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
But He immediately adds: “Take My yoke upon you, and learn from Me” (Matthew 11:28–29).
A yoke is not no burden at all. A yoke is a burden shared!
Christ does not say, “Carry nothing.”
He says, “Come to Me. Learn from Me. Let Me bear this with you.”
The peace He offers is not the peace of a life without effort.
But is the peace of no longer carrying the burdens of this age alone.

In the Church’s ascetical tradition there is a word often used for spiritual struggle: podvig.
It can mean spiritual labour, effort, or struggle.
It does not mean grim misery, spiritual boot camp, or earning points with God.
It means freely taking up the small and sometimes costly acts through which the heart is healed.
A muscle becomes stronger through resistance.
A person who never moves, never lifts, never walks,
and never exerts him or her self does not become healthier.
The body weakens through disuse.
So too with the soul.

An existence insulated from every inconvenience can leave us spiritually fragile.
We become easily irritated, easily discouraged, easily offended,
and increasingly unable to bear even the slightest, teeny tiny, burden of selfless love.
The small efforts of faith are not punishments.
They are medicine.
Getting up ten minutes earlier for prayer.
Turning off the television to read a Psalm.
Holding one’s tongue when anger rises.
Fasting from something—or some activity—we do not need.
Calling the lonely person.
Going to worship even when we do not feel especially spiritual.
Asking forgiveness.
Giving without being noticed.
None of these earn God’s love.
God has already loved us.
We do these and more because His love is calling us awake!
We do them so that the numbness in us may begin to ease,  
so that we may learn to open our hearts to receive the grace already being offered.

The problem with a frictionless existence is not merely that it makes us lazy.
It can make us forget that Love always involves self-giving.
A husband and wife learn this. Parents learn this. Friends learn this. Anyone who cares for someone ill learns this.
Love is not always convenient.
Love interrupts our plans, costs time, and requires us to lay down our preferences.
But that cost is not meaningless.
This is often where love becomes real: concrete, embodied, and incarnate in the Life of the faithful Church.

Christ does not drag us into holiness.
He does not bully us, shame us, or force us through a religious obstacle course.
He draws us. But He draws us into a formed Life: a Life of prayer, repentance, mercy, worship, patience, and service.
The Life in Him that slowly reshapes us from the inside.

The easy path is not always the path of peace.
Sometimes the path of peace is the path of a little holy effort: the quiet decision to say “yes” to Christ
when every part of us wants to remain comfortable.
And strangely, as we take His yoke upon us, we discover that He is not crushing us.
He is neither a killjoy nor a party-pooper.
He is teaching us how to walk.

Questions for Reflection
Where has the desire for convenience quietly replaced my willingness to offer a little effort to God?
What is one small act of holy effort I can embrace this week: prayer, silence, patience, fasting, forgiveness, service, or worship?

A Short Prayer
Lord Jesus Christ,
You walked the dusty and difficult roads of this world for our sake.
Free us from the trap of always choosing the easiest path.
When we prefer comfort over love, awaken our hearts.
Give us grace to embrace the small daily efforts of faith, not to earn Your love,
but because You have already loved us.
Teach us to take up Your yoke and learn from You,
for You do not drive us with fear,
but draw us with love. Amen.

Fr. Ray Dobson © 2026