What If Your Job Isn’t to Fix People?

May 31, 2026

What If Your Job Isn’t to Fix People?

One of the most surprising things God has ever asked me to repent of wasn’t a sin I could easily identify.

It was my desire to help people. At least, what I thought was helping.

For years, when someone shared a struggle, I naturally began looking for solutions. If I could see a better path for them, I wanted to show it to them. If I knew a truth from Scripture that might help them avoid pain, I wanted to share it.

The motivation wasn’t wrong. The method was. What I didn’t recognize at the time was how much of those conversations were being driven by my own will. I wanted to make life easier for people. I wanted them to avoid unnecessary suffering. I wanted them to see what I could see. I wanted to rescue them.

Yet many of those interactions left me frustrated. I would leave conversations thinking:

Why don’t they see it?

Why don’t they make a different choice?

Why are they continuing down a path that is clearly hurting them?

There was very little peace in those moments. Over time, God began showing me something I had never considered. I was trying to do a job that belonged to Him.

The change didn’t happen overnight, but gradually I stopped entering conversations looking for what needed to be fixed. Instead, I started listening. Really listening.

Not listening for the opening where I could insert a teaching point.

Not listening for the opportunity to offer a quick solution.

Not listening for the moment I could explain what they should do differently.

Just listening.

Something unexpected happened. The pressure disappeared. The conversations became lighter. People opened up more and led me to a conversation I did not plan to have. And often, in the middle of a conversation, a thought would come to my mind. Not a sermon. Not a correction. Just a simple sentence or a question, an observation, or a perspective they had never considered before.

I began to notice that those small moments often carried more impact than all the advice I could have prepared ahead of time. These were small seeds and not an entire fruit tree dropped into someone’s life all at once. Just a simple, small seed. Something almost invisible that might seem insignificant in the moment. Yet something that stirs within them and begins to grow.

I began to realize that my job was simply to plant the seed. God was responsible for everything that came after.

I heard lyrics in a song that said something like, we plant the seeds and then God’s the one holding the watering can. We are just called to plant the seeds. He is the one that grows them into a life of beautiful and plentiful fruit.

The more I reflected on that lesson, the more I realized it applies just as much in the exam room as it does in everyday life. As healthcare providers, we spend our days helping people. We help them navigate uncertainty. We help them understand their options. We help them make decisions that may improve their health and quality of life. We educate. We guide. We coach. We explain.

But if we’re honest, some of the most difficult and challenging patient interactions happen when we meet a patient who isn’t doing what we believe they should be doing.

The patient who continues smoking.

The patient who doesn’t take the medication.

The patient who refuses lifestyle changes.

The patient who keeps returning with the same problem.

It’s easy to feel responsible for changing them. It’s easy to believe that if we could just explain it one more way, maybe this time something would click.

But most patients don’t need another lecture. Many already know what they should do. What they need first is to feel seen. To feel heard. To know they matter. They need someone who brings a posture of listening and a heart that seeks to understand their story.

I’ve come to believe that one of the greatest gifts we can bring into any conversation—whether with a patient, a friend, a family member, or a stranger—is not our ability to share profound wisdom — but instead our ability to carry God’s presence.

Presence brings peace. Presence listens. Presence creates room for people to think, reflect, and hear what God may already be speaking to their hearts.

And when God chooses to use us, He often doesn’t ask us to deliver a lengthy message. Sometimes He gives us a single sentence, question, word of encouragement, or a perspective that plants a seed. Then He asks us to trust Him with the outcome and the timeline of that outcome.

The older I get, the more convinced I am that people are rarely transformed because someone told them what to do. They are transformed when they encounter love, peace, and the presence of God.

Perhaps that is why Jesus was so effective. Before He taught people, they experienced Him. Before they understood truth, they encountered love. Before their lives changed, they were seen.

As I’ve reflected on my own journey, I’ve realized this may have been the repentance God was inviting me into all along:

To stop carrying responsibility for changing people.

To stop striving.

To stop leading with my own agenda.

Because we are not called to be the source. We are called to be the vessel and to bring His presence. We plant the seeds. God does the growing.

I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth. So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth. He who plants and he who waters are one, and each will receive his wages according to his labor. For we are God’s fellow workers. You are God’s field, God’s building.

— 1 Corinthians 3:6-9 ESV