The “No For Now” Principle

A high-performer’s guide to the sacrifice that hurts the most.

Productivity gurus love to talk about “focus.”

They make it sound so... clean. (Then they try to sell you their online course…)

Like it’s just about color-coding your calendar, using the Pomodoro Technique, or saying “no” to a few meetings.

That’s not focus.

That’s organizing.

Real, high-stakes, big-mission focus isn’t clean. It’s messy. It’s brutal. And it’s almost never about giving up the “bad” stuff you’re supposed to be giving up.

It’s about giving up the good stuff. The really good stuff.

I’m wrestling with this right now, and it’s a gut-punch.

Here’s the situation: I play drums at my church.

And I don’t just “like” it. It’s not a hobby. It’s one of the only things I do that gives my “soul life.” (My first career was as a professional percussionist…def not a hobby)

It’s a pure, non-transactional act of service and joy. It recharges me in a way my work, as much as I love it, just can’t.

But I’m in a season where my calling has become singular.

My mission—my work, this brand, the keynotes, the family I’m trying to build a new future for—is demanding everything from me.

And I feel called to serve this mission, fully.

So, I have to step back from the band

I have to make the active, painful choice to step away from one of the only things that fills my cup.

Which, if you’re keeping score at home, feels like a terrible life hack.

This is the part they don’t put in the motivational books.

True focus isn’t about saying ‘yes’ to your mission. It’s about saying ‘no’ to the other things you love.

The amateurs think focus is about giving up Netflix.

The pros know focus is about giving up things that give you “soul life.”

It’s a painful, sacred trade-off. And I’m terrified of it.

I have to send this text to the music director, and my stomach is in knots. I’m scared he’s going to say, “Sorry, we can’t use you ever again.”

But here’s the reframe that’s giving me peace:

This isn’t a “no forever.” It’s a “no for now.”

This isn’t a permanent loss; it’s a strategic, seasonal shift.

And this new season I’m in—this season of building, of keynotes, of deep, focused work—it brings its own profound, different kind of joy.

It’s the “soul life” of watching a room of 500 people have a breakthrough.

It’s the gratitude of getting to do what I love for a living.

It’s the joy of knowing this is the work that will build the future I want for my family.

This morning, I missed the pre-school football toss with my son, Hunter.

It’s our ritual. It grounds my day. I missed it because I was working.

And that small, missed moment felt like a papercut on a sunburn.

But it’s all connected. The big sacrifice of the drums and the small sacrifice of the football toss are the price of admission for this season.

And what do you do when the “right” decision feels so wrong?

You have to find a frame bigger than your fear.

For me, I have to give it to God.

I have to pray about it and trust that whatever the outcome is, it’s the right one.

That’s the only thing that brings peace.

Focus isn’t about efficiency.

It’s about sacrifice.

And sacrifice is just the price you pay for the season you’ve chosen.