More or Less There

On journeys, life and grace

Nov 11, 2025

Close-up of a glowing car taillight at dusk — Photo by Fabian Holub on Unsplash

There’s a phrase we use when we’re nearly somewhere: “We’re more or less there.”
It’s what we say on long car journeys, usually when someone in the back has just asked for the fifth time, “Are we there yet?” It’s vague, but hopeful – a way of saying, we’re close, but not quite.

Lately, I’ve been thinking that’s where I often find myself – not quite arrived, but not completely lost either. Somewhere between who I was and who I’m still becoming. Somewhere between certainty and mystery. More or less there.

And yet, that phrase can feel a little disenchanting, can’t it? Like saying, “I’m not quite where I thought I’d be by now.” There can be shame, regret, embarrassment attached when we utter or at the very least, think those words. And we might hear people say – it’s okay to not be where you thought you’d be. And yet, despite potentially knowing that it’s okay – it doesn’t actually feel okay. The gap between the two can be wide, and heavy with self-doubt. Because grace, even when we know it in our heads, takes time to sink down into our bones. We can be left with a kind of ache between who we hoped to be and who we actually are.

Lists of intentions

So, what do we do with that ache? Most of us, I think, start by making quiet promises to ourselves. Little lists. Intentions. A kind of personal manifesto for how we’d like to live.

Less of the things that drain me. More of the things that give life.
Less hurry. More stillness.
Less comparison. More gratitude.
Less noise. More presence.

There’s nothing wrong with that – it’s good, even necessary. It helps us name what matters and begin again with purpose. But life rarely unfolds as neatly as the lists we write. Some weeks, we carry those intentions close and live them beautifully. Other weeks, they gather dust. And when that happens – when we’re more or less there with the things we said we’d prioritise, when the words sound wiser than the actual life we’re living – that’s when grace becomes everything.

Grace

I often write about the five values that shape this space – curiosity, attentiveness, invitation, vulnerability, and wonder. But what I don’t say enough is that grace is what holds them all together.

Because when we’re more or less there, grace reminds us that being “not quite” is still okay. That God isn’t waiting at the finish line for us to get it together – He’s walking beside us, patient and kind, as we stumble our way forward.

And if you’re anything like me, it’s often easier to extend grace to others than to yourself. Easier to say “don’t worry, you’re doing your best” to someone else than to believe it for your own weary heart. But grace asks that of us too – to look gently at the unfinished parts of ourselves and say, “even here, even now, I am loved.”

For me, grace often shows up through the people closest to me.
In a conversation over dinner with my wife, where laughter breaks through the heaviness of the day. In the quiet look that says, you don’t have to have it all figured out tonight. Those small, human moments of love are where grace takes on skin and bones – where the divine meets the daily.

Because we were never meant to live this life without stumbling – we were meant to live it trusting that, even as we fall short, we are still held.

Made for more

Yes, we were made for more. More compassion. More courage. More love that looks like the love we’ve received. But that “more” doesn’t cancel the “less.” We can long to become more like Jesus and still acknowledge that some days, we’re more or less there.
That doesn’t mean we’ve failed – it means we’re human.

We are, as the old saying goes, sinners saved by grace – learning, faltering, growing.
And in that process, God’s voice is never one of condemnation, but invitation.

To keep going. To begin again. To trust that there’s beauty in the journey of becoming.

For the road ahead

So yes – I would like less fear, less cynicism, less comparison. And I would like more gratitude, more wonder, more courage to stay curious and kind. But when I find myself more or less there – I need to remember this:

Grace is already here.

Today is new.

And who knows what that might bring?

Josh | A Curious Follower