
The Encounter That Tested My Boundaries
We all know the moment: a random message pings in, someone you barely know — or don’t remember at all — wants something from you. Maybe it’s a favor. Maybe it’s a sale. Maybe it’s validation in disguise.
Recently, I had just such an encounter. A person I barely recalled from a single church visit reached out to pitch me life insurance. When I declined politely, they pivoted to faith, church connections, and appeals to community referrals.
I kept it simple: “Okay, best of luck.”
That should have been the end — but it wasn’t.
They launched into a defensive speech about how they don’t need luck, just hard work, God, and meeting the right people. I sent a thumbs-up emoji and moved on. And in that tiny interaction, I learned something big about boundaries, grace, and the quiet power of no.
The Unexpected Unraveling
Saying no, especially as a woman of faith, often feels loaded. We’re taught to be kind, helpful, openhearted — and sometimes people mistake that kindness for an open door. But as Anne Lamott wisely puts it, “No is a complete sentence.” It doesn’t require an addendum, a soft cushion, or a theological debate.
When I declined the offer, I was clear but kind. Yet instead of honoring the boundary, the other person rushed to explain themselves. They quoted scripture, painted their mission as noble, and wrapped their request in spiritual language.
But here’s the thing: just because someone waves the flag of shared faith doesn’t mean you’re called to carry it with them. As Matthew 5:37 reminds us, “Let your ‘Yes’ be yes, and your ‘No,’ no; anything more than this comes from the evil one.” Boundaries are not just practical — they are biblical.
What’s Really Happening When People Justify Themselves
When someone starts justifying themselves without being asked, it’s rarely about you. It’s about their discomfort, their need for affirmation, or their fear of rejection. As I watched this unfold, I realized: “You teach people how to treat you by what you allow, what you stop, and what you reinforce” (Tony Gaskins).
In this case, I chose to stop the conversation. Why? Because not every conversation deserves my emotional investment. Proverbs 18:2 cuts to the heart of it: “A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in expressing his opinion.” Some people aren’t engaging to connect; they’re engaging to perform.
Soul Insights
1.) Politeness is not an invitation.
We can be gracious without offering ourselves up as a landing pad for someone else’s agenda. “Best of luck” was my graceful exit — it didn’t require negotiation.
2.) Self-justification is their work, not yours.
When someone starts explaining their motives after a gentle no, they’re trying to soothe their ego. That’s their mirror to look into, not yours to hold.
3.) No is sacred, not selfish.
Scripture reminds us that clarity is holy: “Let your ‘Yes’ be yes, and your ‘No,’ no.” We are not called to exhaust ourselves with endless explanations.
4.) Silence teaches where words fail.
By stepping back, you let people sit with their own discomfort — and sometimes, that’s the most loving lesson of all.
5.) Shared faith doesn’t equal shared calling.
Not every person who invokes God’s name or the church’s mission is your assignment. As Matthew 7:6 says, “Do not cast your pearls before swine, lest they trample them underfoot and turn to attack you.” Discernment protects your peace.
Final Reflections
Walking away from that exchange, I felt no guilt — only clarity. I didn’t need to explain, fix, or soften my boundary. As Prentis Hemphill puts it so beautifully, “Boundaries are the distance at which I can love you and me simultaneously.”
Faith doesn’t require us to be endlessly available; it calls us to be wise, to steward our energy, and to know when to walk away.
So next time you find yourself in one of these strange little human tangles, remember this: sometimes the holiest thing you can say is “best of luck,” drop the mic, and carry on with your peace intact.
Your Turn
Have you ever found yourself tangled in a conversation you never signed up for — and had to learn the art of walking away? I’d love to hear your thoughts. Share your experience in the comments, or pass this post along to a friend who’s learning to set holy, healthy boundaries.
And if this resonated with you, make sure to subscribe to the blog so you never miss a soul-nourishing reflection. Let’s keep growing — with wisdom, grace, and maybe just a few more “best of luck” moments.
© 2025 Amelie Chambord

Leave a comment