Too Expensive

There’s a pilates reformer class I keep circling back to.

And every single time, I talk myself right out of it. Too expensive. That’s the first thing I reach for. But if I’m honest, the price is just one excuse in a whole pile of them. Who’s going to watch Luna on a Friday morning? Is this really the season for it? Isn’t there something more practical I should put that money toward?

It’s the same story with groceries. I’ll go back and forth for weeks about spending a little more on the food that actually makes me feel good, and then not think twice about the stuff that quietly costs me nothing and gives me nothing back.

For a long time I thought this was just me being responsible. A good steward. Practical. But lately I’ve started to wonder if it’s something older than that. Something I learned so early I never even questioned it.

I grew up the younger sister of a brother with a handicap. And I want to be so careful here, because I don’t blame my family for a single thing. But when you grow up that way, something gets quietly wired into you. You learn, without anyone ever saying it out loud, that someone else has to come first. That you don’t really need to speak up. That making a choice for yourself, just because you want it, isn’t really your place. Someone else’s needs are bigger, and yours can wait.

That mindset doesn’t stay in childhood. It followed me into my friendships. Into my relationships. Into the way I move through the world. It is so deeply embedded in who I am that I didn’t even see it as a belief. It just felt like the truth.

And it took me letting myself go completely, across every single front, until I was so small, I was microscopic, before I finally stopped and thought… maybe I’m allowed to take care of myself too. In all the ways. Not just the ones I can justify to everyone else.

Here’s what has been undoing that lie, slowly.

I always thought Matthew 6:21 meant my treasure follows my heart. That my money just flows toward the things I already love. But it is the other way around. “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” My heart follows my money. Whatever I am spending on, my heart trails right behind it and calls that home.

So the real question was never about a reformer class or a grocery bill. It is tender, and it is a little harder to sit with. Is my spending pointing toward the life God would want for me? Toward this body I have been given to steward?

Because I don’t think “too expensive” was ever really about the money. Underneath it, for me, was something quieter. A belief that I wasn’t worth the investment. That the leftovers were enough for me. That everyone else got the good yes, and I got the practical no.

But spending every day in His Word has been reminding me who I actually am. Not who that old wiring says I am. Who God says I am. And it is so easy to believe that choosing something healthy for myself is selfish. I got caught in my own head for the longest time, telling myself my stress isn’t as bad as someone else’s, so I don’t really need the class, the better food, the rest, the care. But that is a lie from the enemy.

We are God’s temple. He does not want us living stressed out and stuck in survival mode. He wants what’s best for us. He wants us whole. Truly living, not just getting by. We are His Masterpiece. He didn’t paint us into an incomplete monochrome painting on a canvas. He painted us fully alive, vibrantly colored and shining. It’s time for us to start treating ourselves that way.

This body is His. Made on purpose and called good. Stewarding it well was never meant to be one more rule to keep. It is care. It’s not cutting back. It’s making room.

That is actually why I built a little something special. Not a budget spreadsheet, not a guilt trip. Just a quiet walk, one honest look at where it is all going, and a gentle nudge toward the thing I have been longing for and telling myself I couldn’t have. It is called the Stewardship Journey, and I made it because I needed it first. I hope it helps you, too.

You don’t have to earn the care, Friend. You just have to stop believing you were only ever meant to come last.