Obeying God when you don’t want to

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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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: When You Don’t Feel Like Stopping

If You Say So

Obeying God when you don't want to

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