Have you ever noticed how powerful muscle memory can be?

Even when you intend to do something different, your body and mind often default to what they’ve always done when the moment arrives. Habits have a way of taking over before we even realize it.

For years, I drove the same route to work. When my job changed, it took months—months—to stop automatically exiting at the same familiar off-ramp. Hundreds of times I had taken that exit. It was routine. It was ingrained. It felt almost automatic.

At first, I’d make the wrong turn and have to backtrack. Later, I’d catch myself in the wrong lane just in time to correct. Over time, it got easier. The more I practiced the new route, the more natural it became. Repetition slowly rewired my instincts.

I see the same pattern play out in everyday life.

Some rhythms are so deeply embedded that they happen without conscious thought. For example, when I stand up to cross the room, I grab my phone. I don’t always need it—but it comes with me anyway. It’s instinct now.

And once my phone is in my hand, there are certain apps I almost automatically open. Even if my original intention was something completely different, my habits quietly redirect me. Again and again, habits shape my actions more than my intentions do.

That’s what makes change so challenging.

Even when I want to add something good—something helpful, virtuous, or spiritually healthy—if it isn’t already a habit, I often find myself taking a “wrong turn.” I open an old app. I slip into an old routine. I get in the wrong lane before I even realize it.

So how do we pursue real change without getting discouraged?

We keep going.

Even redirecting mid-turn is progress. Even catching myself halfway into the wrong lane is better than never noticing at all. And even when I completely miss the exit—Jesus can redeem that too. But only if I lift my eyes back to Him instead of staring at my failure.

Scripture reminds us:

“Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith…” — Hebrews 12:2 (NIV)

If I fix my eyes on my shortcomings—on how often I default to what I’ve always done—I will quickly become discouraged. But when I fix my eyes on Jesus, I’m reminded that growth is possible because grace is real.

Paul puts it this way:

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” — 2 Corinthians 12:9 (NIV)

That truth changes everything.

Jesus’ righteous record—not mine—is what allows me to try again. To reroute. To practice new rhythms. To keep chasing Him even when change feels slow and messy.

So let’s keep encouraging one another. Let’s remind each other that the work is worth it, that habits can be reshaped, and that Jesus is always ready to help us find—and follow—Him.

Even when some inputs are hard to change.