What Does Living Life to the Fullest Mean?

You’ve probably seen it stitched on throw pillows or captioned under sunset beach pics: “Live life to the fullest.” Cool. But what on earth does that even mean? Is it skydiving at 80? Quitting your job to travel the world? Drinking overpriced smoothies that taste like wet spinach and regret?

I used to think living life to the fullest meant checking things off a bucket list like a productivity freak with a death wish. Hike Machu Picchu? Done. Eat gelato in Rome? Done. Feel vaguely unfulfilled while staring at a breathtaking view because you’re still thinking about your Instagram angle? Also done.

But something about all that “living” felt... hollow.

Not to be dramatic (okay maybe just a little), but if you’ve ever flopped on your bed after a “dream trip” and thought, “That’s it?” you know what I mean.

This blog post is not your average fluffy “just follow your heart” pep talk. I’m writing this because I think the whole living-life-to-the-fullest thing has been hijacked by hustle culture, travel vlogs, and self-help influencers who all seem weirdly tan and emotionally detached.

And Jesus? Well, He had a very different idea.

Spoiler alert: It’s not about adrenaline.

When Jesus said in John 10:10, “I came that they may have life and have it abundantly,” He wasn’t handing out coupons for skydives or remote work visas. He was inviting us into something deeper. Something richer. Something your soul has probably been aching for without knowing how to say it out loud.

I used to scroll travel reels and envy people who seemed so free. Meanwhile, I was stuck in my office cubicle microwaving sad leftovers and googling “how to not hate your life.”

But one night, while brushing my teeth (why does God always hit us during mundane hygiene moments), I realized I had been measuring “fullness” the same way the world does: more experiences, more fun, more freedom, more dopamine.

And yet, the more I tried to fill my life, the more I felt like I was leaking.

That’s when I started wondering: What if fullness doesn’t mean more, but deeper?
What if it’s not about feeling everything, but feeling the right things; holy things, lasting things?

Suddenly, Jesus’s version of abundant life made more sense.

Collect Moments Not Things Spiral Notebook

Living fully might look quiet. And weird.

Nobody talks about how “living life to the fullest” sometimes means forgiving someone who’s not sorry. Or spending your Sunday afternoon listening to your grandma tell the same story 4 times. Or waking up early to read the Bible even when your eyes feel like they’re crusted shut by betrayal and exhaustion.

And sometimes it’s loud. It’s laughing so hard with your church friends that someone snorts. It’s dancing in your room with no music. It’s the sudden thrill of realizing you’re where God wants you to be; not because it’s glamorous, but because it’s good.

That’s the kicker. Fullness isn’t always fun. It’s just… full. Full of meaning. Full of God. Full of that stubborn joy that makes no sense on paper.

I think some of us are scared that if we stop chasing what the world calls “life,” we’ll miss out. That we’ll become boring, washed-up religious folks who never try anything new. But what if that fear is the real scam?

I’ve tasted both: the world’s version of living, and the awkward, brave, sacred way of Christ. And let me tell you: one leaves you thirsty, the other fills you in ways no passport stamp ever could.

Sometimes fullness looks like limits.

This is where it gets spicy. Because the world says “say yes to everything” but Jesus often says “deny yourself.” Like, sorry? That doesn’t sell travel guides or get you TikTok followers.

But when God asks you to give up something good for something eternal… it’s not loss. It’s investment.

I once had a chance to date a guy who checked all my boxes except the Jesus one. He was kind, funny, hot (hello), and emotionally available (a rare Pokémon). But deep down I knew it would fracture my soul slowly. Like a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. So I said no.

Was it painful? Yeah. Did I cry into my pillow like a Victorian widow? Also yes.
But weirdly, saying no made my heart feel more alive. Because I knew I hadn’t traded eternal fullness for temporary feels.

The devil wants you full, but not fulfilled.

This part’s subtle, so lean in.

The enemy is more than happy to let you chase “life” endlessly, as long as you’re too busy to notice it’s killing your spirit. He’ll let you be the busiest, most interesting, most envied version of yourself… as long as you never pause long enough to realize you’re spiritually starving.

Jesus, on the other hand, invites you to pause. To breathe. To rest. He doesn’t say, “Hurry up and be impressive.” He says, “Abide in Me.” And that’s where the real life flows.

I once read this quote (don’t ask me who said it because I forgot, sorry Internet) that went:
“The devil doesn’t have to destroy you if he can distract you.”

That hit. Because we’re not out here worshipping Satan in the open. We’re just refreshing apps, binging content, planning our next escape. And all the while, our soul is quietly suffocating under the weight of everything we’ve mistaken for fullness.

You don’t have to earn the full life. It’s given.

Here’s the gospel twist: living life to the fullest isn’t something you achieve. It’s something you receive.

It’s not reserved for Type A Christians who pray for 2 hours a day or mission trip warriors who eat bugs for Jesus. It’s for the weak, the tired, the unsure. The ones who say, “God, I want more but I don’t even know what I need.”

Fullness is found in surrender, not striving.
And surrender isn’t glamorous. It’s awkward, messy, deeply uncool. But it’s also the portal to freedom.

I used to think surrender looked like defeat. But now I know it looks like breathing again. Like coming home.

So what does it mean?

Living life to the fullest means:

Saying yes to Jesus even when it costs your comfort.
Grieving deeply because you know love is worth the pain.
Laughing without guilt.
Holding joy and sorrow in the same hands.
Knowing your worth doesn’t depend on how “exciting” your life looks.

It’s not one-size-fits-all. It’s not a Pinterest aesthetic. It’s not always glamorous.

But it’s real. And real is better than impressive.

And if you still don’t feel “full”?

You’re not broken. You’re just hungry. And hunger is a good place to meet God.

Sometimes I still feel empty, even with Jesus. But now I know that even in the aching, He’s there. He doesn’t run from our questions or moods or weird contradictions. He fills them.

And maybe that’s the fullest kind of life, the kind that never stops needing Him.

✦ ✦ ✦

FAQ

Q: Does God want me to live my life to the fullest?

A: Yes, God absolutely wants you to live your life to the fullest, but not in the way the world defines it. In John 10:10, Jesus says He came so we may have life and have it abundantly. This doesn’t mean chasing thrill after thrill or stuffing your calendar with bucket list items. It means living in deep relationship with Him, where your heart is full, your soul is anchored, and your purpose runs deeper than hype.

God’s version of fullness isn’t about constant excitement or worldly success. It’s about joy that holds even in sorrow, peace that sits with you in the unknown, and love that transforms you from the inside out. When we follow Jesus, we’re not giving up a full life, we’re finally stepping into it.

Q: What does living fully mean?

A: Living fully means experiencing life the way God intended: anchored in purpose, rich in love, and deeply connected to Him. It’s not about doing everything or being everywhere. It’s about abiding in Christ and letting your days, even the quiet ones, overflow with meaning and presence.

In a world that equates fullness with thrill and achievement, biblical fullness is rooted in surrender. It means showing up for the people God’s placed in your life, embracing both joy and suffering with Him at the center, and trusting that even your ordinary moments can be sacred. Living fully isn’t about having more, it’s about needing less, because your soul is satisfied in God.

Q: What to do when you feel stuck in life as a Christian?

A: When you feel stuck in life as a Christian, the first step is to bring that stuckness honestly to God. He doesn’t shame you for feeling lost or stagnant, He invites you to abide in Him right where you are. Often, spiritual growth happens in the waiting, not the doing.

It’s also helpful to stay connected to Scripture, prayer, and community even when it feels dry. God often uses these slow seasons to deepen your roots, strip away false identities, and strengthen your trust in Him. You’re not being punished or forgotten, sometimes He’s simply preparing you for the next thing by teaching you how to walk faithfully in the now.

Q: How to tell if you're a lukewarm Christian?

A: A lukewarm Christian is someone whose faith has become passive, comfortable, or indifferent. You might go through the motions; praying occasionally, attending church, but without real passion, conviction, or dependence on Jesus. Revelation 3:16 warns against being lukewarm, showing that God desires wholehearted devotion, not half-hearted belief.

If you're more influenced by culture than by Christ, or if spiritual things feel more like a checklist than a relationship, it might be a sign you're drifting. But conviction is grace. God doesn't expose lukewarmness to condemn you, He does it to call you back. When your faith feels stale, it’s not the end. It’s an invitation to return to your first love with honesty and hunger.

Relevant Reads:

✦ ✦ ✦

I’m curious. What does “living life to the fullest” look like for you? Is it quiet faithfulness, wild joy, or somewhere in between?

Tell me in the comments. Or scream into the void. Either works.

Search This Blog

Seen and Understood: For the Quiet Ones With Loud Inner Worlds