For as long as I’ve been a Christian, and even as a minister of the Gospel, I have struggled with maintaining a consistent daily Quiet Time with God. I’m speaking of that set-apart time for reading the Bible, praying, and communing with the Lord. Although it has provided the richest blessings of my spiritual life, I still often resist it. Not always because I’m too busy, sometimes it’s because, quite frankly, I don’t want to. It’s something that has troubled me through the years.

I know the value of quiet moments alone with God. I’ve experienced firsthand how they shape my heart, guide my decisions, and deepen my relationship with Christ. Yet there are days when I avoid the very thing I know will strengthen me the most. Then comes the guilt, heavy, relentless, and confusing. I ask myself, am I treating this sacred time legalistically? Or is the guilt I’m experiencing the voice of God’s Spirit? Am I simply an unruly, wayward child who should know better by now?

If this resonates with you, let me share what I’ve learned: you’re not alone. This tension is more common than you might think. The discipline of Daily Devotions is just that – a spiritual discipline. Even when born out of love, discipline requires effort – sometimes a rigorous struggle. Some of the most faithful saints in history, Spurgeon, Luther, and Wesley, confessed to the same inconsistency. The enemy wants you to believe that this problem is a mark of failure. But this very conflict is more likely a sign of life. If you were unregenerate, spiritually dead to the things of God, you wouldn’t care. Even if, as a believer, your heart had grown cold or hardened, indifference would mark your life, not concern. The fact that you’re distressed and grieve over your inconsistency proves the Spirit of God is very much at work in you.

You ask, what about the guilt? That question haunted me for some time. But I have learned the difference between the guilt that crushes and the Spirit’s conviction that calls. If I skipped my Quiet Time and felt God was angry with me, withholding His favor because I hadn’t “clocked in,” that was legalism. But when I missed time with Him and felt more like a child who hadn’t spoken to his Father, who missed being near Him, that was love. This is the difference. The Spirit does convict, but He always draws us back, never pushing us away in shame. Ignominy is not His voice.

Jesus said, “The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak” (Matthew 26:41). He wasn’t defaming His disciples when He said that to them. He was showing them how much they needed to remain close to Him. My war, and that of many other Christians, isn’t so much about laziness or our busy schedules. It’s a battle against our sinful nature, which recoils from anything that would dethrone self and enthrone God. Communion with God threatens the sovereignty of self, and the flesh hates it. Even the apostle Paul groaned under this weight, writing in Romans 7 of his skirmishes between holy desire and practice.

Still, I have wondered if this frequent inner conflict over the Quiet Time distinguishes me as unfaithful. Am I a backslider? Am I rebellious? I think many Christians feel this way about the neglect of their Quiet Time. But then, I see that waywardness is marked by indifference, not disquiet. If I were truly far from God, I wouldn’t feel conflicted. I wouldn’t grieve. The fact that I mourn my inconsistency, that I long for more of God and feel the ache of having time with Him, shows I’m not a wayward or rebellious child – I’m just a wrestling one. Hebrews reminds us that God disciplines those He loves, not to castigate them, but to lovingly train and mold them.

Something that has helped me is turning to grace, not obligation. I no longer see my Quiet Time as something I must do for God, but something I do with Him. It’s not a duty to perform, but a privilege to pursue. I don’t come to earn the Lord’s approval. Instead, I come because, through Christ, I already have it. When I don’t feel like it, I offer my most honest prayer: “Lord, I don’t want to meet with You right now – but I want to want to.” It reminds me of the man in the Gospels who cried, “Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief” (Mark 9:24). That kind of honesty is not only accepted by Christ, but it is also welcomed. Our Lord honors even the smallest seed of desire and meets it with His grace. Doesn’t this realization make you love Him more? Doesn’t it strengthen your willingness to spend time with Him?

The truth is, grace is what wins this battle for us, not willpower or religious resolve. I’ve been a Christian and taught others the Word of God for nearly five decades. Nevertheless, I need grace now as much as I did initially. God isn’t disappointed with me because of my weakness. He knows it better than I do. He isn’t standing over me with a tally sheet. He’s waiting with open arms. He doesn’t want my performance. He wants me. To think that he wants me is an incredible and powerful motivation!

If I meet with Him today, praise God. If I miss it tomorrow, He’ll still be there, ready to speak, receive, and restore me as needed.

So, to every believer who struggles to be consistent with their Quiet Time: take heart. This challenge is a tough one, but God’s grace is strong. Don’t give up. Don’t turn away. The Father’s door is still open. Always come back, over and over, even if it’s to say, “Lord, thank you for hearing me now. I missed you.” For every step you take toward Him, even halting, hesitant, or late, you’ll find He has already run to meet you, arms full of mercy, ready to begin again.