Precious had just finished a twelve-hour shift on the surgical ward at the teaching hospital in Idi-Araba when the phone rang. It was twenty to midnight. She was sitting in her car in the staff car park, too tired to start the engine.
It was her aunt. Her cousin had found a microfinance bank that would lend him one and a half million naira to restock his phone accessories shop, but they needed a guarantor with a salaried job. “You are the only one in the family with a proper job,” her aunt said. “You know he will pay. Please, my daughter. Don’t let him down.”
While her aunt was still talking, two messages arrived. One was from the head of her church’s children’s department, asking if she could cover Sunday school again because two teachers had travelled. The other was from a friend who had been going through a painful divorce and had fallen into the habit of calling Precious every night around eleven to talk until one or two in the morning.
Precious said yes to all three. She signed the guarantor form the following week. She taught Sunday school that weekend, and the weekend after, and found herself leading the children’s department in all but name. She kept answering her friend’s calls at eleven every night, and went into her morning shifts on four hours of sleep.
Seven months later her cousin’s shop closed. He stopped answering the bank’s calls. The bank began deducting from Precious’s account, as the agreement allowed, and the money she had set aside for her daughter’s school fees was gone within three months. One afternoon her eleven-year-old daughter came home early with a note from the school about outstanding fees. She sat at the dining table for a long time without speaking. Then she said, quietly and without anger, “Mummy, why do you say yes to everybody except us?”
Precious told me later that the question went through her like a blade. She had thought of herself as a generous woman, a faithful servant, a good Christian. She had never realised that every yes she gave to someone else had been a no to someone God had already placed in her care.
Every yes spends something
Many believers struggle to say no. Some of us were raised in families where refusing an elder was unthinkable. Some of us have been taught in church that a good Christian is always available, always willing, always ready to help. Some of us simply like to be needed, and we find our sense of worth in the gratitude of others. And many of us are afraid: afraid of disappointing people, of being thought proud or selfish, of losing relationships we value.
So we say yes. Yes to the loan, yes to the committee, yes to the late-night call, yes to the extra project, yes to the relative who arrives without warning and stays for two months. Each yes feels like love. But every yes spends something. It spends time, money, energy, attention or sleep, and those things are limited. When you give them to one person, you cannot also give them to another.
That means a refusal is sometimes the most loving thing you can do. A clear no can protect a responsibility God has already entrusted to you: your children, your marriage, your health, your work, your calling, your walk with Him. Precious’s daughter was not asking her mother to stop being generous. She was asking her to remember who she had been given to care for first.
This teaching is about boundaries: the limits we set on what we will do, give or allow. The word itself is not in the Bible, and it is sometimes used today in ways that sound more like self-protection than love. We need to be careful. But the idea is deeply biblical. Jesus lived with boundaries. So did Moses, Paul and many others. The question is how to set limits that serve love rather than replace it.
Let your yea be yea
Jesus gave a simple instruction about honest speech in the Sermon on the Mount:
Again, ye have heard that it hath been said by them of old time, Thou shalt not forswear thyself, but shalt perform unto the Lord thine oaths: But I say unto you, Swear not at all; neither by heaven; for it is God’s throne: Nor by the earth; for it is his footstool: neither by Jerusalem; for it is the city of the great King. Neither shalt thou swear by thy head, because thou canst not make one hair white or black. But let your communication be, Yea, yea; Nay, nay: for whatsoever is more than these cometh of evil.
The context is oaths. In Jesus’ day people had developed elaborate systems of swearing. An oath “by heaven” or “by Jerusalem” might be binding, while an oath by something else might not be, and clever people learned to make promises that sounded solemn but left them a way out. Jesus cuts through it all. Do not play games with your words. “Let your communication be, Yea, yea; Nay, nay: for whatsoever is more than these cometh of evil.”
That instruction applies to more than oaths. It describes a person whose words can be trusted because they mean what they say. When such a person says yes, they will do it. When they say no, they mean no. James repeats it: “let your yea be yea; and your nay, nay” (James 5:12).
Think about how often we fail this test because we cannot bring ourselves to say a plain no. We say “I’ll see” when we have already decided we cannot. We say “Let me check” and then never call back. We agree to something and then quietly fail to do it, hoping the other person will forget. We invent excuses: the battery died, the meeting ran late, the car developed a fault. All of these are ways of avoiding an honest no, and Jesus says that what goes beyond a plain answer “cometh of evil.”
A healthy boundary begins with truthful speech. If you cannot do something, say so, kindly and clearly. If you can do part of it, say exactly which part. If you need time to decide, say that honestly and then actually decide. You do not need to give a long defence for every refusal. Whatever reason you give, though, must be true. A boundary built on a lie has already lost its integrity.
It is often more loving, too. The aunt who hears “I’m sorry, I cannot be guarantor for this loan” may be disappointed. But she is far better served by that honest answer than by a reluctant yes that ends in a ruined relationship, or by an evasive “let me see” that leaves her waiting and hoping.
The morning Jesus said no
The clearest picture of a godly boundary in the Gospels comes early in Mark’s account of Jesus’ ministry. Jesus had spent the Sabbath in Capernaum. He had taught in the synagogue, cast out an unclean spirit and healed Simon’s mother-in-law. By evening, the news had spread through the town. Mark says that “all the city was gathered together at the door” (Mark 1:33), bringing their sick and troubled to be healed. Jesus healed many of them late into the night.
Then this:
And in the morning, rising up a great while before day, he went out, and departed into a solitary place, and there prayed. And Simon and they that were with him followed after him. And when they had found him, they said unto him, All men seek for thee. And he said unto them, Let us go into the next towns, that I may preach there also: for therefore came I forth.
“And in the morning, rising up a great while before day, he went out, and departed into a solitary place, and there prayed.” After an exhausting night of ministry, Jesus withdrew. He left the house before dawn, found a quiet place and prayed. He protected His time with the Father even when the needs around Him were enormous.
The disciples were puzzled. They went looking for Him, and when they found Him their message was urgent: “All men seek for thee.” The whole town is waiting. There are more sick people at the door. This is a revival. Come back.
And Jesus said no. “Let us go into the next towns, that I may preach there also: for therefore came I forth.” Luke’s account adds that the crowd actually tried to stop Him leaving, and that He told them, “I must preach the kingdom of God to other cities also: for therefore am I sent” (Luke 4:43).
Notice several things about this refusal.
It was rooted in prayer. Jesus did not decide in the heat of the moment, under pressure from the crowd or the disciples. He had been alone with the Father, and He came out of that time with clarity about what He was meant to do.
It was rooted in purpose. “For therefore came I forth.” Jesus knew what He had been sent to do. His primary mission was to preach the kingdom throughout Galilee, and staying in Capernaum to meet every need there would have kept Him from it. He said no to a good thing in order to say yes to the assignment the Father had given Him.
It was honest. He did not slip away and leave the disciples to make excuses. He told them plainly what He was going to do and why.
And it was not a refusal to love Capernaum. He came back to the town many times. He healed there again. His no was a no to one particular demand at one particular time, for the sake of a wider love.
PunchlineA clear refusal can protect a responsibility already entrusted to you. Jesus said no to a good demand in order to say yes to the Father’s assignment.
This pattern runs through the Gospels. “And he withdrew himself into the wilderness, and prayed” (Luke 5:16). When the crowds wanted to take Him by force and make Him king, “he departed again into a mountain himself alone” (John 6:15). When He went into the region of Tyre and Sidon, He “entered into an house, and would have no man know it” (Mark 7:24). The Son of God, who had all power, chose to live within limits. If He did, we certainly must.
Rest, interruption and compassion
There is another scene in Mark that shows how Jesus held His boundaries:
And he said unto them, Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest a while: for there were many coming and going, and they had no leisure so much as to eat. And they departed into a desert place by ship privately. And the people saw them departing, and many knew him, and ran afoot thither out of all cities, and outwent them, and came together unto him. And Jesus, when he came out, saw much people, and was moved with compassion toward them, because they were as sheep not having a shepherd: and he began to teach them many things.
The disciples had just returned from a mission. They were full of reports, and they were exhausted. So many people were coming and going “that they had no leisure so much as to eat.” Jesus saw their need and said, “Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest a while.” He took them away by boat to a quiet place.
That is a boundary for the sake of rest. Jesus did not regard His disciples’ tiredness as a spiritual weakness to be pushed through. He knew that people who never rest eventually break. He made room for them to eat, to be together and to recover.
But then the crowd ran ahead on foot and was waiting when they landed. And Jesus, “when he came out, saw much people, and was moved with compassion toward them, because they were as sheep not having a shepherd: and he began to teach them many things.”
This is just as important. Jesus’ boundaries were held with an open hand. When a genuine need interrupted His plans, compassion could move Him to set the plan aside. He did not say, “Sorry, this is our rest time.” He taught them, and then He fed five thousand of them.
What do we learn from holding these two scenes together? That boundaries are servants of love and never its masters. They exist so that we can keep loving over the long run, with health, clarity and faithfulness. A rigid rule that refuses every interruption has missed the point as surely as a life with no limits at all. Wisdom knows the difference between the friend who calls at eleven every night out of habit and the friend who calls at two in the morning because her husband has just walked out. The second call you answer. The first may need a gentle conversation about a better time.
Burdens and loads
Paul gives us a passage that is often quoted on both sides of this subject:
Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ. For if a man think himself to be something, when he is nothing, he deceiveth himself. But let every man prove his own work, and then shall he have rejoicing in himself alone, and not in another. For every man shall bear his own burden.
At first glance verses 2 and 5 seem to contradict each other. “Bear ye one another’s burdens” in verse 2. “For every man shall bear his own burden” in verse 5. Which is it? Do we carry each other’s burdens or not?
The answer lies in two different Greek words that the King James translates with the same English word. In verse 2 the word is baros, which means a heavy weight, something crushing, a load too great for one person. In verse 5 it is phortion, which was used for a pack or a soldier’s kit, the ordinary load each person is expected to carry for themselves.
So Paul is saying two things at once. When someone is crushed by a weight beyond their strength, the church must come alongside and help carry it. That fulfils “the law of Christ,” the law of self-giving love. A widow struggling with her husband’s funeral costs, a family facing a medical emergency, a brother caught in a sin he cannot break alone (the subject of verse 1): these are baros burdens, and we are commanded to share them.
But every adult also has a daily pack to carry: their own work, their own decisions, their own responsibilities, their own walk with God. Love does not mean carrying that for them indefinitely. In fact, when we take on someone else’s ordinary load, we can keep them from growing. A grown man whose mother keeps paying his rent never learns to work. A friend who relies on you for every decision never learns to pray and think for herself. Paul elsewhere tells the Thessalonians, “if any would not work, neither should he eat” (2 Thessalonians 3:10). That is a call to responsibility, and it is a kind one.
Between those two verses, Paul warns against pride: “if a man think himself to be something, when he is nothing, he deceiveth himself.” That warning cuts both ways. The person who refuses to help anyone because he thinks himself above it is deceived. But so is the person who thinks she must carry everything for everybody, as though she were the only one who could. Some of our inability to say no is a hidden pride, a belief that the world will collapse without us.
Scripture also guards the other edge: “Withhold not good from them to whom it is due, when it is in the power of thine hand to do it. Say not unto thy neighbour, Go, and come again, and to morrow I will give; when thou hast it by thee” (Proverbs 3:27-28). Boundaries must never become an excuse for stinginess. If someone has a genuine need and you have the means to help, the godly response is to help, gladly and promptly. The question is always what love requires in this situation, given everything else God has entrusted to you.
Stewardship of what has been entrusted
Moses learned about boundaries from his father-in-law. After leading Israel out of Egypt, Moses was sitting from morning till evening hearing every dispute among the people himself. Jethro watched him for a day and said:
And Moses’ father in law said unto him, The thing that thou doest is not good. Thou wilt surely wear away, both thou, and this people that is with thee: for this thing is too heavy for thee; thou art not able to perform it thyself alone.
“The thing that thou doest is not good.” Moses was doing good things. He was serving God’s people. He was settling disputes and teaching God’s ways. But the way he was doing it was not good, because it was unsustainable. “Thou wilt surely wear away, both thou, and this people that is with thee.” His failure to set limits was harming both himself and the people he served. Jethro’s counsel was to share the work, so that “they shall bear the burden with thee” and Moses would “be able to endure” (Exodus 18:22-23).
Every believer is a steward. God has entrusted each of us with particular responsibilities, and we will give an account of how we handled them. Paul writes strongly about one of these: “But if any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel” (1 Timothy 5:8). Your family is a responsibility you cannot hand to someone else. Your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit. Your marriage is a covenant. Your work is a place of faithfulness. Your gifts and calling are given for a purpose.
When a new request comes, it is right to ask: what has God already entrusted to me, and will saying yes to this cause me to neglect it? Precious’s school fees fund was not hers to give away. Her sleep before a surgical shift was not only her own business; patients’ safety depended on it. Her daughter’s need for a present mother was a responsibility God had placed in her hands.
Proverbs speaks directly to the situation she faced. “Be not thou one of them that strike hands, or of them that are sureties for debts. If thou hast nothing to pay, why should he take away thy bed from under thee?” (Proverbs 22:26-27). Standing guarantor for another person’s loan, especially when you cannot afford to lose the money, is a commitment that Proverbs warns against repeatedly. It is often wiser to give what you can afford to give than to pledge what you cannot afford to lose.
Saying no in these situations is not selfishness. It is faithfulness to an earlier yes.
When boundaries lose their purpose
Boundaries can be misused, and it is important to be honest about that. They lose their purpose when they stop serving love.
A boundary becomes retaliation when it is used to punish. “I’m not taking her calls any more” may be wise if she is abusive. But if the real motive is to make her feel what you felt, it is revenge dressed up in the language of self-care. Love “seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil” (1 Corinthians 13:5).
A boundary becomes escape when it is used to avoid every relationship that asks something difficult. Every family has tensions. Every friendship has seasons when one person needs more. Every church asks for commitment. A believer who withdraws from anyone who makes demands, and calls it “protecting my peace,” has turned a tool of love into a wall against it. Jesus withdrew to pray, but He did not withdraw from the cross. “He stedfastly set his face to go to Jerusalem” (Luke 9:51), knowing exactly what it would cost. Love sometimes means walking toward the hard thing.
A boundary becomes disproportionate when the limit is far greater than the problem. A friend who is often late does not need to be cut off. A relative who gives unwanted advice does not need to be blocked. Proportion matters. The smallest limit that protects the responsibility is usually the right one.
There is one situation where much firmer boundaries are needed. If someone is abusing you, physically, sexually, emotionally or financially, you are not required to keep giving them access in the name of love, submission or family loyalty. Scripture never asks a believer to endure abuse. Distance for safety is wise. Speak to someone you trust, seek qualified help, and where there is danger or a crime, involve the authorities. Protecting yourself and any children in your care is part of your stewardship, not a failure of it.
For everyone else, it helps to check your motives. Ask: Is this limit protecting something God has entrusted to me, or protecting me from discomfort God wants me to bear? Am I willing to keep loving this person within the limit? Could I explain this boundary honestly to Jesus?
How to say no well
NuggetA few practical principles can help you set limits in a way that honours both truth and love.
Pause before you answer. Many unwise yeses happen because we answer immediately. It is perfectly acceptable to say, “Let me pray about it and come back to you tomorrow,” as long as you actually do. Jesus’ clearest no came after a night in prayer.
Know what you have already said yes to. Write down your main responsibilities in this season: family, work, health, church commitments, your walk with God. When a new request comes, measure it against that list.
Give a truthful reason, briefly. You do not owe everyone a full explanation. You do owe them honesty. “I can’t stand guarantor for a loan. I have school fees to protect and I cannot risk that money.” “I can’t take on another department. I’m committed to the children’s ministry and I want to do that well.” Short. True. Kind.
Offer what you can. A no to one thing can be a yes to something else. Precious could not be guarantor. She might still have helped her cousin draw up a business plan, or given a smaller gift she could afford. Talking until two every night was beyond her. She could commit to a call every Tuesday evening and pray for her friend daily.
Expect some disappointment, and let it be. People who are used to your yes may not like your no at first. You may hear “You have changed” or “I thought you were a Christian.” That is painful. But you are not responsible for managing everyone’s feelings. You are responsible for being honest and loving. Many relationships survive a boundary and become healthier for it.
Honour your parents and elders without surrendering your adult responsibilities. “Honour thy father and mother” (Ephesians 6:2) remains a command. Honour can be expressed through respect, care, visits and help. It does not require you to obey every request from an adult relative when that request would cause you to neglect your own household.
And rest in Christ. Underneath much of our difficulty saying no is the feeling that we must be everyone’s saviour. John the Baptist was enormously popular, but when people asked him who he was, “he confessed, and denied not; but confessed, I am not the Christ” (John 1:20). That is a liberating confession. You are not the Christ. You do not have to meet every need. There is a Saviour, and you are not Him.
Precious did not change overnight. The first time she declined a request from her aunt, she sat in her car afterwards and cried. Her aunt told two other relatives that Precious had become proud since she started earning well. For a few months, family gatherings were cool.
But she kept going. She went to see her cousin and told him plainly that she could not cover the rest of his loan, but that she would help him look for a job and would pray with him. Through a nurse on her ward, she found him work with a pharmaceutical distributor. He began paying the bank back slowly. She told the head of the children’s department that she would teach one Sunday a month and would no longer lead the department. Someone else stepped in, and did it well. She told her friend, gently, that she loved her and wanted to keep supporting her, but could no longer talk late at night before shifts. They agreed on Tuesday evenings. Her friend found a Christian counsellor. The calls became less desperate.
She paid her daughter’s school fees late that term, with help from her own savings and a little overtime. One evening, about a year later, her daughter asked if they could go to the beach on Saturday. Precious checked her diary and saw that another cousin had asked her to help with wedding preparations that day. She picked up the phone there and then. “I’m sorry, I can’t come on Saturday. I already have something important. I can come for two hours on Thursday evening, if that helps.” Her daughter, listening from the other side of the room, smiled.
PunchlineBoundaries are not hatred. Used well, they are love with its eyes open: honest about what you can give, faithful to what you have been given, and always ready to be moved with compassion when real need comes to the door.
Teaching Companion
For Reflection
- Where have you been saying yes to others in ways that are quietly a no to someone God has placed in your care?
- How do you usually avoid a plain no: vague promises, excuses, delayed replies? What would honest speech look like instead?
- What do you learn from Jesus’ refusal in Mark 1:35-38 about the role of prayer and purpose in saying no?
- In your current situation, what is a baros burden you should help carry, and what is someone else’s phortion that you have been carrying for them?
- Are there boundaries in your life that have become retaliation or escape? What would it look like to restore them to their purpose?
This Week
Set aside thirty minutes this week to pray and then write down the main responsibilities God has entrusted to you in this season. Beside each, note one way you have been neglecting it because of other commitments. Choose one request or commitment you need to decline or reduce, and decide exactly what you will say: brief, true and kind. Have that conversation before the week ends, and offer, if you can, one thing you are able to give instead.
A Prayer
Lord Jesus, You rose before dawn to pray, and You said no to the crowd so that You could say yes to the Father. Teach me to do the same. Forgive me for the times I have said yes out of fear, pride or the need to be needed, and neglected what You placed in my hands. Give me honest words, a clear mind and a compassionate heart. Help me to carry the heavy burdens of others gladly, and to let them carry their own loads. Keep my boundaries from becoming walls or weapons. Remind me that I am not the Saviour, so that I can rest in You. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Truth received brings freedom. Truth believed establishes the heart.
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version. · Illustrations using first names only are composites unless stated otherwise.