Cut Your Losses — And Run
Santa Fe Trail Sunrise
“Strip off every weight that slows us down…
and let us run with endurance the race God has set before us…
by keeping our eyes on Jesus,
the champion who initiates and perfects our faith.”
Hebrews 12:1-2
“Sometimes you’ve just got to cut your losses and run.”
Have you ever heard that advice?
I have. And if I’m honest, I’ve wrestled with it more than once.
I’m not someone who gives up easily. I hold on. I keep running. I invest my time, my resources, and my heart—sometimes longer than I should. And yes, there have been moments when that’s cost me.
So how do you know when it’s time to walk away…and when it’s time to keep running, one step at a time?
Because those aren’t always the same thing.
What I’ve started to realize is this: sometimes God isn’t asking us to quit the race—He’s asking us to lay something down so we can keep running it.
And that’s a much harder distinction to make.
One of the clearest times I’ve faced that question was just this past year.
“I may have to close the school,” I admitted as I plunked down on the bed. It was May of 2025, and I’d just returned from another unsuccessful meeting.
“There’s got to be a way to stay open. I just don’t know how,” I continued as I glanced at my husband, who worked quietly at the desk beside me. “There are so many kids who need a program like ours.”
We discovered an alternative school for our oldest son six years before when conventional schooling methods failed to meet his needs. The program’s hands-on approach transformed my oldest son’s view of learning. Eventually, all four of my kids thrived in the model. I joined the team in 2020 and transitioned to leading the program in 2022.
Though students continued to thrive, the shifting economy and rising tuition costs created a barrier for many. Enrollment declined. Families needed more affordable options.
“You have to find a way to compete with state-funded programs,” a local educational leader had advised earlier that spring.
So I started applying for state funding. Yet I realized that even if the state accepted my application, funds wouldn’t be available for another full year. We didn’t have the resources to last that long.
“What if you just take it one step at a time?” My husband counseled. “Apply, and if funding is granted, keep going.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “But what about rent and staff salaries?”
Should I cut my losses and run? Or keep going — one step at a time?
I approached our landlord one more time.
“Can you work with me for one year,” I implored. “If we can make it through this year, I’m confident we’ll be able to fully compensate you next year.”
There was no contract in place. No guarantee. All I had was faith — faith in the program, faith in funding, faith that God would work out the details if He wanted the program to progress.
She agreed to consider my request.
I walked away with tears of gratitude. I continued with meetings, applications, and paperwork. Step by step without knowing the outcome until months later.
Will it be too late by then, I wondered. Should I close the school for one year and then reopen later?
I didn’t feel peace about that either.
The summer continued. I enjoyed time to rest and recharge. Time with my family and a book my dad gave me — Building Dynamic Faith — renewed my perspective.
Yet I still wondered. Was I walking in faith, or was I just being foolish?
I wasn’t always sure. Yet little doors kept opening, so I kept walking through — one step at a time.
Then came a breakthrough.
Our landlord agreed to adjust our rent by over 60%.
That was a wide open door. So we stayed.
Staffing remained a challenge, so I stepped into an unexpected role one week before school started. It wasn’t my plan, but it was the next step.
Five months later the state approved our application. Additional funds would come the following year, so we launched our new program.
Then came another stretch of hard work — more meetings, adjusting systems, interviewing new staff.
By early spring, I was exhausted.
Maybe I should have cut my losses and run, I thought. This feels like more than its worth.
Then tours began.
“My family has been praying for a program like this,” said one parent.
“My child doesn’t fit in the conventional model,” said another.
“We’re so excited to be a part of this community.”
And just like that, God reminded me of the purpose.
Step by step, strength returned.
Even with statewide budget cuts requiring additional adjustments, we found a way to reduce tuition by half for families.
We just opened enrollment two weeks ago.
We’re already at capacity.
Our students and staff have more than doubled.
I stand in awe at God’s provision. One step at a time.
Cut your losses and run away? I don’t think that’s the whole story.
Because sometimes the “losses” we’re called to cut aren’t the things God has asked us to carry forward. Sometimes the real losses are fear, control, pride, or the need for certainty before we take the next step.
In my case, God wasn’t asking me to walk away from the school. He was asking me to surrender the outcome. To release my timeline, my plans, and my need to have it all figured out—and then keep moving forward in faith.
Not running away…but running with endurance.
I was reminded of this verse:
“Strip off every weight that slows us down…and let us run with endurance the race God has set before us…by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith.” Hebrews 12:1–2
So maybe the question isn’t, Should I quit or keep going?
Maybe the better question is: What is God asking me to lay down so I can keep running?
Are there areas in your life where you feel ready to throw in the towel? A business? A relationship? A calling? Prayers that feel unanswered?
Before you walk away, pause and ask:
Is this something I’m meant to release…or something I’m meant to trust God with, one step at a time?
Because when God is in it, perseverance isn’t stubbornness—it’s faith.
So cut your losses.
Lay down the weight.
And run.