The book The Let Them Theory by Mel Robbins has been my most impactful book of 2025. It will be one I will revisit in the future to remind myself of the important truths it contains…ones that are key to my everyday peace. The wisdom of the book has been weighing heavily on me lately, not just because of the phrase “let them,” but because of what comes after it.
It’s easy to focus on the first part:
Let them react how they react.
Let them choose what they choose.
Let them walk the path they insist on walking.
But what has impacted me even more deeply is what comes next:
Let me.
For a long time, I struggled to “let them” in my life — not because I wanted control, but because I feared the consequences. I would imagine the consequences when their choices went badly, and how it might impact me. With everyone from close family members to church congregants, I would beg them to do something or not do something and a lot of the time the main reason was, I could forsee what was going to happen if they did and I didn’t want to have to use my energy cleaning it up.
And somewhere deep inside I believed:
“If I let them make that decision…I’m going to have to help them clean it up.” And I don’t want to clean things up, if I can prevent them.
So I stepped in.
I over-functioned.
I absorbed stress that didn’t belong to me.
I rescued, even when no one asked me to, and sometimes even when God didn’t call me to.
I thought I was being responsible… loving… loyal… spiritual…but many times, what I was really being was afraid.
Afraid of conflict.
Afraid of disappointment.
Afraid of relational discomfort.
Afraid that someone else’s consequences would cost me something.
And here’s the truth that finally broke through:
It doesn’t have to cost me anything.
It doesn’t have to cost me anything AT ALL. When and if it falls apart, I can keep living my life, enjoying it to the fullest, and let them pick up every teeny weeny itsy bitsy piece of mess.
For a long time, I had quietly assigned myself the job of helping people pick up the pieces whenever things came tumbling down. No one officially gave me that role — I took it on myself. Now I see that it was a self-imposed responsibility. Their choices do not have to impact my future, my finances, my schedule, or my to-do list.
I can “let them”…and not rush in to absorb the fallout.
I don’t have to cry about it.
I don’t have to lose sleep over it.
I don’t have to pay for it.
I don’t have to carry it.
I don’t have to fix it.
I don’t even have to “be there for them” when it all falls apart.
Their choices can remain their responsibility.
And when I release that, something beautiful happens:
I also get to let me.
Let me breathe.
Let me rest.
Let me enjoy my life.
Let me walk in peace instead of tension.
Let me stop living braced for the crash that isn’t mine to prevent.
Let me trust God with them…and trust God with me.
Because sometimes the most faithful, loving, spiritually mature thing we can do is stop interfering with what God is allowing someone else to walk through.
Not out of coldness.
Not out of bitterness.
But out of trust.
Trust that God is big enough.
Trust that growth sometimes requires consequence.
Trust that I am not the savior in anyone’s story.
And trust that I am allowed to live free even when someone else is learning hard lessons.
Let them — make their choices, live their story, walk their journey and face their outcomes.
Without my help.
And let me…
live in peace
walk in joy
stay in my lane
and honor my emotional and spiritual boundaries.
I don’t have to stand in the crossfire of someone else’s decisions to prove that I’m kind, loyal, or loving.
Some of us can easily imagine doing this with certain people — but then we hit the “except” zone.
Everyone but a spouse.
Everyone but a son or daughter.
Everyone but a grandchild.
Everyone but that family member or close friend who has always pulled us back in.
For years, we tell ourselves, “I can let other people face their consequences… but not them.”
But the truth is — “Let Them” applies to everyone. And in many cases, it especially applies to the people we’ve always placed in the “but not them” category. Those are often the relationships where our boundaries have been the thinnest, our rescuing the strongest, and our emotional exhaustion the deepest.
Letting them doesn’t mean we stop loving them. It means we stop carrying what was never ours to carry — and we trust God to do what only He can do in their lives.
Sometimes love looks like presence.
Sometimes love looks like prayer.
And sometimes… love looks like letting go.
Let them.
And then…
Let me.
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