Michelle DeRusha

Every Day Faith. Faith Every Day.

obedience

Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday: When You Don’t Feel Like Stopping

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As I walked past, my heels clicking briskly on the sidewalk, I saw her bent low on her hands and knees, peering under her car at the liquid dripping onto the pavement. She wore gray sweatpants, a rumpled gray sweatshirt and flip-flops, even though the morning was cold and damp, and she glanced up at me as I walked by, pulling my suitcase behind me. I could see she was crying. I looked the other way and kept walking.

I had to pass the woman again as I walked back to the hotel. I didn’t want to stop. She didn’t look like “my type.” I had to speak at the conference in a few minutes. I was wearing a nice dress. I was cold without my coat. I wouldn’t be able to help anyway. This is what I told myself, the excuses streaming like a fast-flowing current.

She was crouching now, elbows on her knees, head in her hands, her hair tangled and unwashed, a curtain around her face. Bending down next to her, I tucked my dress under my legs and touched a hand to her arm. “Are you okay?” I asked. When she looked at me, the skin beneath her eyes was smudged with old makeup. Black streaks of mascara etched her cheeks. She choked out her story, a jumble of words about her lousy car and a wedding to attend that afternoon, and two hours’ sleep and bills she couldn’t afford to pay and a bad mechanic. I listened. I peered under the car with her. I looked under the hood, nodding and murmuring as I listened to her story.

I remembered that moment when I read the lesson for this week – a story about a man who listened to God. A story of a man who didn’t walk in the opposite direction.

When the Holy Spirit prompted Philip to walk up to an Ethiopian eunuch, Philip didn’t hesitate. He didn’t think about inconvenience or awkwardness. He didn’t regard the man so unlike himself with suspicion or disdain. He didn’t think about how different the man was from him. He simply heeded the Holy Spirit and engaged the stranger in conversation, a conversation that resulted in the man’s conversion and baptism.

My story isn’t nearly as dramatic. In fact, in retrospect, I know I could have done a lot more for that woman in the parking lot. I could have asked to pray for her. I could have offered her money. I really didn’t do anything at all but listen and nod my head in empathy. And when we stood, brushing the grit from our palms, I looked her in the eyes and told her everything would be okay. I wasn’t sure this was true, or even if I believed it, but I said it anyway, mainly because I didn’t know what else to say.

I admire Philip’s willingness to heed the Holy Spirit, the ease with which he obeyed the command. Obedience doesn’t come that naturally to me. I fight it. Sometimes I ignore God’s voice altogether. Or I give myself ten reasons why I don’t need to listen.

I should have prayed with the woman in the parking lot. I should have offered her money. Or a ride. All I did was stop to listen. But when it comes to obedience, maybe stopping is where we start.

Have you ever stopped in your tracks to respond when you felt a nudge from the Holy Spirit? Have you ever ignored the prompt and kept walking? How did you feel in either situation?

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Welcome to the “Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday” community, a place where we share what we are hearing from God and his Word.

If you’re here for the first time, click here for more information. Please include the Hear It, Use It button (grab the code below) or a link in your post, so your readers know where to find the community if they want to join in — thank you!

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Thank you — I am so grateful that you are here!

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Blogging Benedict: Real-Time Obedience

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Funny how God works sometimes. As I read and write about St. Benedict’s vow of obedience this week, God is teaching me the lesson of obedience in real time.

Jane Tomaine notes that the Latin root for obedience is obaudire, “to listen thoroughly.” She points out that in his Rule, Benedict describes obedience as both listening and responding:

“Those who practice obedience set aside their own concerns, plans, and tasks, even going so far as to leave work unfinished  in order to respond quickly to the request. The requested action would be completed without hesitation, almost at the same moment the request was made.” (from St. Benedict’s Toolbox: The Nuts and Bolts of Benedictine Living)

When I check my phone on Monday, I see a message from an unfamiliar number. It’s Lelia. Turns out, one of the speakers on the agenda for her conference this weekend has a family emergency and can’t make it … might I be able to speak in her place?

I say yes.

Let me tell you, one of my greatest fears, second only to throwing up, is speaking in public. I would rather visit the gynecologist and get a mammogram and a root canal and my legs waxed all in the same day. I would rather stand in line at the DMV every day for a month straight. I would rather clean hard water deposits off my bathroom faucet and my neighbor’s bathroom faucet and her neighbor’s bathroom faucet with a toothbrush. I’d rather do just about any other dreaded task over speaking in front of an audience.

But I say yes. It’s so obvious I should say yes that I don’t even think about it. “No problem,” I tell Lelia. “It’ll be totally fine, I promise.”

Then I hang up the phone. And Freak. Out.

The funny part about this story is that only hours before, I’d griped to Brad about how I needed to line up some speaking engagements. Not that I want to line up speaking engagements, mind you, but I realize speaking is part of the territory: published writers are expected to speak. Some days I wish I lived in the 19th century so I could hole up in an attic like Emily Dickinson and just write without worrying about the platform-schmatform and social media and whether I should wear pants or a skirt when I speak in public.

“It seems like all these speaking opportunities seem to drop right into other people’s laps,” I told Brad that afternoon. “I don’t get it.” He’d shrugged. Clearly he didn’t get it either.

After I got off the phone with Lelia and was catatonic on the couch in primal freak-out mode, Brad reminded me of our conversation earlier in the day. “Hey, you just got a speaking engagement dropped into your lap.” Not to be an ingrate, but I’d been thinking more along the lines of “dropped-into-my-lap-with-four-months-notice,” rather than “dropped-into-my-lap-with-four-days-notice.”  God is clever like that sometimes, isn’t he?

Oddly, in between bouts of catatonia and feverish PowerPointing, I am also feeling an overwhelming sense of peace and calm. Part of me knows that everything will be fine, just like I told Lelia. There’s something liberating about being so hopelessly out of control and in over your head. There is serenity in knowing I can’t possibly do anything but hand it entirely over to God.

So that’s what I am doing. Being obedient. Handing it all over to God – the worry, the insecurity, the fear, the queasiness. Trusting that he will be right here with me, teaching me what to say (Exodus 4:12).

So tell me, when’s the last time you were hopelessly in over your head? How did God set your heart and mind at ease?

I would so deeply appreciate prayers for my friend, the one who was originally scheduled to speak, who is dealing with a family emergency right now. And also, while you’re at it, that I might keep my head on straight, not succumb to primal freak-out and, above all, convey God’s message to the ladies at the Refresh My Heart conference this Saturday. Amen. And thank you.

This post is part of my Friday Lenten series  called Blogging Benedict. I am using the text St. Benedict’s Toolbox: The Nuts and Bolts of Everyday Benedictine Living as my guide.

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If You Say So

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When I read the article in the Sunday paper, I knew what I had to do.

The story was about Carolyn, a mom of five young boys. She’d wrangled everyone into the car one morning and drove across town to Elliott Elementary, where they were having a winter coat drive for families in need. The problem was that by the time Carolyn got herself and her five boys to the school that morning, a sign was already posted on the door: coats and clothing gone. Not a single glove, hat or jacket was left.

When I read that, and thought of Carolyn standing tired and frustrated outside the school with all her kids, it was perfectly clear what I should do. God practically printed the instructions for me in black ink across the newspaper page. The trouble was that I didn’t particularly want to do it. I didn’t want to go to the trouble of emailing the reporter and tracking down the contact information for Carolyn. And worse, I didn’t want to call a perfect stranger to have an awkward conversation and risk sounding like a creepy lunatic.

Recently I read the story in Luke in which Jesus sends Simon Peter back out to sea to fish. In the past I’ve always focused on the “following” aspect of this story – the fact that Simon Peter abandons all his worldly possessions and his livelihood to follow Jesus to become a “fisher of men.” But this time I noticed something else. When Jesus instructs Simon to return to sea to let down his nets again, Simon Peter says this:

“Master, we worked hard all last night and didn’t catch a thing. But if you say so, I’ll let the nets down again.” (Luke 5:5, NLT)

Can you hear the doubt and reluctance in Simon Peter’s answer? “But if you say so,” he says begrudgingly, wearily. I can almost hear his thought-process – “What a waste of time, I was out there all night and didn’t catch a single fish. I don’t feel like dealing with the hassle of heading back out. But whatever…if you say so…”

The key is that Simon Peter obeys God; he acts in obedience, in spite of his reluctance and doubt. In spite of the fact that he simply does not want to.

“Go out where it is deeper,” Jesus tells Simon Peter.

Go deeper.

Where does God want us to go when we distrust or feel inclined to disobey? He wants us to go deeper – acting, following, obeying; walking obediently through distrust and out the other side.

I finally called Carolyn. I admit, I procrastinated for a day or so after I got her telephone number from the reporter. But I finally made the call. And yeah, I felt silly and awkward, and I stammered and stuttered my way through the conversation. In the end it turned out that my call to Carolyn wasn’t the first she’d received. Others had read the same article and made the same call (and clearly they hadn’t procrastinated), and her boys were all properly outfitted for the winter by the time I contacted her.

The call wasn’t entirely fruitless though. Although Carolyn didn’t need my help, making the call had actually helped me. I’d gone deeper, pushing through my reluctance and distrust, obeying God when I didn’t particularly want to, and emerging grateful and somehow fuller on the other side.

So tell me…when have you obeyed God when you didn’t particularly want to? Did you learn anything?

Writing about spiritual practices {practicing obedience} with Ann today.

Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday: For the Times You Think You are in Control

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“Hey Brad, hand me a pencil please, will you?” I asked, interrupting the quiet. “I need to stab my eye out.”
 
I’d just read online that yet another fellow writer had landed a book deal – a two-book deal, no less, with a major, New York City-based publisher. And I’d had it. Frustrated and bitter with my lack of progress in the publishing field, I was ready to quit. Or at the very least stab my eye out with a sharp pencil.

Then, just two days later, my agent called with good news. She had a project for me – not the book deal I’d dreamed of, but a fabulous writing project nonetheless. I hung up the phone and twirled into the kitchen, but even before I could announce my big news, Brad said this: “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.”

I give the man credit – Brad didn’t dare quote this verse from Job when I was in the throes of the Lord taketh away. He only mentioned it at the announcement of good news, and not to throw a wet blanket on my party, but to remind me that God, and God alone, is in control.

I forget that sometimes. Or I try to forget it, at least. Frankly, I like to be in control. I like to think I’m managing this tenuous writing career; I like to pretend that I’m making this all happen on my own. I like to imagine that if I work hard enough and push long enough, I can make a book deal happen.

Deep down, though, I know that’s simply not true. Deep down I know that real faith requires obedience and surrender, that God is the master planner, not me.

And I think that’s exactly what Hannah realizes in the verses we read from 1 Samuel this week.

Her prayer begins as thanksgiving for the fact that God has accomplished the impossible in blessing her with a child after years of infertility.

But then Hannah’s prayer shifts into an entirely different tone, as she says this:

The Lord gives both death and life;
he brings some people down to the grave but
raises others up.
The Lord makes some poor and others rich;
he brings some down and lifts others up…
For all the earth is the Lord’s,
and he has set the world in order ( 1 Samuel 2:6-8, NLT)

For me, the last two lines are key: For all the earth is the Lord’s, and he has set the world in order.

Hannah bargained with God in order to be able to bear a child – she took the matter into her own hands, her own control, and made a deal with God. In the end, though, her prayer illustrates that she has come to a deeper understanding of her relationship with God. Hannah understands that Samuel was offered to her as an undeserved gift, rather than a reward for her tenacious prayers.

With this prayer, Hannah reminds me that the Earth, along with everything and everyone on it, was created by God. He rules over it…and us. And he (not I) sets the world in order.

What about you? Are you struggling to control something that should be left in God’s hands?

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One quick little note here before we do the link-up. Have you heard about our new family project?! We are trying to raise $5,000 through Charity:Water, which would provide 250 people in Africa or Asia with clean, fresh water [800 million people around the world do not have access to clean water!]. We’ve dedicated our campaign to Brad’s parents, Jon and Janice, and we would be incredibly grateful if you would consider making a donation. Click here for more information. Thank you!!


Welcome to the “Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday” community, a place where we share what we are hearing from God and his Word.

If you’re here for the first time, click here for more information. Please include the Hear It, Use It button (grab the code below) or a link in your post, so your readers know where to find the community if they want to join in — thank you!

Please also try to visit and leave some friendly encouragement in the comment box of at least one other Hear It, Use It participant. And if you want to tweet about the community, please use the #HearItUseIt hashtag.

Thank you — I am so grateful that you are here!


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Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday: Can I Change God’s Mind?

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“If I could write a sentence like that, I’d be happy; I’d be done,” she declares. I glance down at the hand-out and read it again. It’s a single sentence, written by Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist William Faulkner, about 200 words long, brimming with symbolism, one clause running into the next, a blur of nouns and verbs.

I hate it. I think it’s a terrible sentence. I read it three times, slowly and deliberately, and I still can’t make any sense of it. “How in the world is that a great sentence?” I wonder.

I say nothing. After all, who am I to criticize William Faulkner? And who am I to disagree with the workshop leader, an esteemed writer herself? If Lauren Winner – published novelist, ordained minister, creative writing professor at Duke University – makes a proclamation about writing, who am I to argue?

I remembered this moment when I read the story from the Book of Exodus this week. God is steaming mad – his people have betrayed him yet again. They’ve created a golden calf and are worshipping it as an idol, and God’s had it. “Leave me alone,” he fumes to Moses, “so my fierce anger can blaze against them, and I will destroy them.” (Exodus 32:10, NLT).

Now. If I’d been in Moses’ shoes, I certainly would have let God do his thing. He is the authority, after all – the be-all-and-end-all authority. I’m not about to question God, to challenge his authority. That’s not my place, right? My job is to accept God’s will, no questions asked.

But Moses doesn’t do that. Instead, he counters God with this suggestion:

“Turn away from your fierce anger. Change your mind about this terrible disaster you have threatened against your people.” (Exodus 32:12)

God, upon hearing Moses’ plea, reacts unexpectedly: “The Lord changed his mind about the terrible disaster he had threatened to bring on his people.” (Exodus 32:14). Moses convinced God to change his mind.

I’m not saying these verses give us free reign to disobey God or even to challenge his authority. But I do think this story demonstrates the fact that God is open to dialogue. Yes, God is the be-all-and-end-all authority. Yes, God is omniscient and omnipotent. Yes, we are commanded to obey him. But that doesn’t mean we have to like his decisions.

That doesn’t mean we can’t ask him to change his mind.

The lesson for me in this story, as in my experience with Lauren Winner and William Faulkner, is this: I should respect, but not fear authority – not God’s, nor the writing expert’s.

I was not brave like Moses in that writing workshop. I was afraid to speak in the face of authority. I was afraid to question, afraid even to open my mouth. But I suspect that if I’d had the courage to begin a respectful conversation about the Faulkner sentence that day, Lauren Winner would have listened.

And I’m beginning to think that God wants to listen to me, too – even when I tell him that I disagree.

Do you think there is room to question God without crossing the line into disobedience?



Looking for a short but impactful daily devotional? My church, Southwood Lutheran, recently launched a daily e-devotional written by 25 writers, and, no bias of course, I happen to think it’s pretty great. Interested? You can read samples and sign up here. You don’t need to be a member of Southwood or even a resident of Nebraska to sign up! Devotions will delivered to you email in-box Monday-Saturday at 6L30 a.m. CT.

Linking with Jen and the Soli Deo community:


Welcome to the “Hear It on Sunday, Use It on Monday” community, a place where we share what we are hearing from God and his Word.

If you’re here for the first time, click here for more information. Please include the Hear It, Use It button (grab the code below) or a link in your post, so your readers know where to find the community if they want to join in — thank you!

Please also try to visit and leave some friendly encouragement in the comment box of at least one other Hear It, Use It participant. And if you want to tweet about the community, please use the #HearItUseIt hashtag.

Thank you — I am so grateful that you are here!


Click here to get Graceful in your email in-box. Click here to “like” my Facebook Writer page. Thank you!