What to Do if You Don't Feel Like Obeying God

I've had a bit of obedience to do this week, and I haven't felt like doing it. It's been a struggle. It's a keep-on-going-with-the-hard, when what I want to do is enjoy the fall weather and have a break, kind of obedience, and I've struggled mightily. I've wept. I've prayed. I've fasted. 

Missionaries should always feel like doing what God says, right? Not necessarily. 

It's not "feeling like obeying" that's importance. It's actual obedience that matters.

Jesus didn't always "feel" like obeying God, either. 

His time in the Garden of Gethsemane the night before His crucifixion is a perfect example. He agonized. He sweated drops of blood. He seriously did not want to haul the cross through Jerusalem on His holy back, lie down while soldiers impaled his hands and feet with rough iron nails, and hang by those nails with all the sin of the world on his shoulders. 

"My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; yet not as I will, but as Thou wilt." Matthew 26:39

The redemption of the world, my redemption and yours, depended entirely on the willingness of the Son of Man/Son of God to push past how He felt and do what God said anyway. 

That's a scary thought, isn't it?

I wonder what depends entirely on my willingness to push past how I feel and obey...

In the midst of all my crying, praying, and fasting, I've tried to do what Jesus did. Obey anyway. Did it make me "feel" more like obeying? Nope. 

Discipleship is not about "if it feels good, do it," but about "if God directs, do it."

It's that simple. It's that hard.

James, the younger half-brother of Jesus, wrote about trials that are hard. The word he used for trials comes from the root word meaning "to pierce." The hard things we go through are to serve as a divine piercing through which all the "not-like-Jesus" can trickle out. 

Do we, then, fake a smile and keep pressing on? No. Jesus didn't fake a smile about the cross. He agonized, but He also prayed. He asked to avoid it, but He also surrendered. He didn't want to go, but He got up anyway. When the soldiers came, He didn't run. Instead, He stepped forward with "I'm your man" obedience.

How do we get through trials without losing our testimony? The same way Jesus did. We pray. We surrender. We obey. We keep obeying. At the end of the trial, we win the victory.

James listed a few actions that will help us along the way. 

1) Choose joy anyway. (James 1:2)

2) Take your eyes off the trial and put them on the outcome. (James 1:3)

3) Allow yourself to learn the lesson in the trial. (James 1:4)

4) Don't quit, even when it's what you want. (James 1:3-4)

5) If you need wisdom, ask God for it, not your well-meaning friends. (James 1:5)

This week, I've done what James suggested. It's what my fellow missionaries do all the time. I've chosen joy anyway. I've looked toward whatever I'll have learned at the end. I've pondered the lesson I'm being taught. I've persevered. I've asked God to show me the way. 

All those James-style actions didn't change my desire. They helped me obey, though, and the ongoing obedience has helped me persevere. Somewhere down this road, I'll be more like Jesus than I am right now, and closer to the holy perfection He desires for me.

Is it hard? Yes. Is it worth it? Yes. Immeasurably so.

If our struggle, our question, today is whether or not to obey in something hard, the answer is yes. Do it. Even if you don't feel like it. Why? Because it's worth it in the end.

"And let endurance have its perfect result, that you may be perfect and completely, lacking in nothing." James 1:4 nasb

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In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: Worship in the Wilderness

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The Granola That Changed My Day

This adventure I'm sharing with Sam (my elderly neighbor) has been quite a change for both of us. 

If you've been reading the blog for a while, you know that Sam's wife of 60 years died back in October. Since then, I've been looking out for him, as I gave my word I'd do. That promise was given in 1989, when we were both much younger, but a promise is a promise, and I've tried to live by it. 

Sam always says, "You're only as good as your word." I intend for my word to be as good as I wish I were.

Because of that decades-old promise, I've helped manage his finances, pay his bills, and buy his groceries. When he stopped driving because of his poor vision, I became his driver. When cooking was too much of a challenge, I became his cook.

Lest you think I'm doing a noble deed, let me dispel that thought. Sam is probably the greatest man who's ever lived. The joy and the blessing are all mine. He's already given me far more than I'll ever give to him. After all these years, we're family and there's lots of love in our relationship.

Sam, at 86, likes to eat "country cooking". He wants sausage and eggs for breakfast. Preferably accompanied by homemade biscuits and gravy. I prefer homemade yogurt and granola with a little fruit. 

Sam likes well-cooked peas, turnip greens, and cornbread. I like my vegetables a little crunchy, and my bread gluten-free.

It's been quite a change for us both, even though Sam agreed to eat whatever I cooked without complaining. I've tried to cook his favorites, but they aren't my usual fare. He's stuck to his bargain, despite my struggles, and has learned to eat cottage cheese and tuna salad, among a variety of new foods.

Day before yesterday, I fretted about our menus all day long. I couldn't think of a single thing I wanted that would also be palatable to Sam. I prayed about it. I cried about it. I whined about it.

After dinner (which wasn't Sam's favorite, and which, after my modifications, wasn't my favorite either), I was downcast. Okay, pitiful might be closer to the truth. Sam had balked at spinach madeline (too spicy) and didn't much care for spaghetti, either. He ate it with a smile and a thank you, but admitted it wasn't his favorite.

I realize, in the big scheme of things, the menu is not important at all. I know that better than most, because I've spent hours this week reviewing all the terrorist attacks of 2016. I've been sick with grief. Maybe that's why I needed something to feel familiar.

I plopped down in my comfy chair and blinked back tears. "I don't know how to do it, Lord. This is hard." There wasn't any one thing that was hard. It was the accumulation of responsibility, and fear of the future that had me rattled. The new schedule. Cooking three meals a day. Continuing to write and do all the other things I do. Rhythm and balance had been hard to achieve.

"I don't know what to do. Just tell me something. Anything. I'll do it."

This sounds crazy as I write it, but the thing that came in my mind was a picture of my orange-pecan granola recipe. "Granola? What kind of answer is that, Lord?" 

I'm not sure that making granola was a word from God, but it definitely helped me. I laughed so hard that all my despair faded as I preheated the oven, gathered my ingredients, and went to work. In less than 30 minutes, the granola was cooling and the aroma of brown sugar, cinnamon, and freshly grated nutmeg filled the house. 

Yesterday, Sam heated the sausage and eggs I'd prepared for his breakfast and I had homemade yogurt, granola, and fruit. He ate at his house and I ate at mine. (He likes to eat breakfast about 8 am. I like to eat breakfast at 5:30) For just a few minutes, life felt normal again to both of us, and it was enough. 

I still find it hard to believe how much emotional strength I gained from that granola, but it was exactly as much as I needed. God knew what would make the biggest different, and that's what He gave. Admittedly, I had to cook it, but even that was therapeutic.

What's equally amazing is that Sam had a container of left over tuna salad and another of leftover creamed style corn. He combined the two and heated it up as a kind of tuna casserole. "It was delicious," he told me later. Sam prepared a meal for himself and it felt like normal to him, too.

We were both equipped to go a little further on this journey of life we're doing together.

It's easy to forget, but we serve an on-time God who loves us and provides everything we need, exactly when we need it. Whether it's finances, strength, or encouragement, our Lord is able to supply, and He does. Every single time.

Sam and I have seen that truth over and over again. This isn't how either of us expected life to be. Sometimes, it's just plain hard. The sweetness, though, outweighs all our struggles. There's not a day that I'm not grateful for Sam, nor him for me. No matter what we decide to eat. 

Just in case you thought Sam is missing out, today we're eating breakfast together. Eggs, sausage, biscuits, and gravy. All his favorites. 

"Consider it all joy, my brethren, who you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing." 

James 1:2-4 nasb

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In case you missed it, here's the link to yesterday's post: There's Still Good in the Midst of Evil
Here's a link to The Prayer List 
#persevere #SamWiley #disciple #loveoneanother

Friday Night With Friends: A New Beginning

Our Friday Night with Friends guest blogger is Kathy McKinsey. She's a fellow writer with a remarkable story of perseverance and grace. You will be so blessed by her story. Be sure and give her some encouragement, too. Enjoy!

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I am almost fifty-five years old, and I believe God has given me a new beginning.

Three years ago, an accident left me with a brain injury. I had to quit work, and since then I’ve often felt unneeded. Always a busy person, I suddenly did not know what I could do of any use to anyone else.

For the last month or more, I have a new spring in my step.

I have been blind my entire life. I never considered myself special, but I believed I lived an energetic, independent, constructive life. After my accident, I suddenly had more disabilities to deal with. I became angry and hurt, and believed other people saw me as disabled far more than when I was “only visually impaired.”

I’ve discovered who dropped this heavy weight of “disability” around me.

It was me.

I decided to give in to all the multiple disabilities. Even as I struggled to find new ways to use my life, I kept reminding myself to allow for what I couldn’t do anymore.

I have much less energy, and I have difficulty with balance. So I let my family do many things for me which I could do myself. I didn’t pick up much work around the house. I worked on my writing and on my certification as a braille transcriber and proofreader, but I told myself it was okay if I didn’t feel like doing much of those things with any strong or regular effort.

I have hearing loss, trouble with memory, and difficulty completing sentences and finding the right word. So I allowed myself not to be n many groups outside the home, not to try to carry on conversations.

All of these difficulties are true, but I decided I could use them to settle back and not be much of a participant in life. I was basically a sit in my easy chair kind of retired lady.

What changed a month or so ago? We bought a dishwasher, and I decided to start doing the laundry again. Seriously. I know it’s more than that, but it’s amazed me how doing these household chores has renewed my sense of being useful.

And my writing.

When I was a teenager, my dream was to be a writer. I sold a few short stories and poems to magazines. I was an author.

Then for more than thirty years, I allowed school, raising a family, and work to convince me I didn’t have much time for writing. I told myself that I’d take it up again when I retired.

I’ve always heard that God may not answer our prayers as soon as we want, and maybe not in the way we think he should. I don’t remember if I prayed much about writing when I was a teenager, but God has certainly made my dream come true much later and in a much different way than I imagined.

When I couldn’t go back to work, I realized that now is my time to write.

For the last three years, I’ve worked on short stories, articles, and started a couple books. I’ve joined a critique group, and I take classes online and read books about writing. Over the past year, I’ve had three articles accepted by a magazine. Again, being disabled, I figured this was good enough. I didn’t need to put any more effort into it than I felt like. Relax and take it slow.

A couple months ago, a publisher asked to see a children’s book I sent them a query for.

This sparked some motivation in me to work more seriously and diligently as a writer. Stretch my limits, work more hours, take some risks, boldly ask God to bless my writing career.

I may never publish a book. My writing may be only for me, my family and friends, and my critique partners. But I’m going to put a new effort into it. It’s going to be a job that I put energy, time, and effort into.

Before my accident, I wasn’t conquered by disability because, with much support, I didn’t let it keep me from doing the things I wanted to do. I wanted to show my children that a person with a disability could be successful. Now I want to show them that disabled person doesn’t have to give up when confronted with new obstacles.

At some points of the day, my mind races—with things I have to do around the house, writing projects I want to work on, research I need to do, critiques I need to finish for others. I’m not retired anymore.

Another result of my accident. Because of nerve damage, one eye needed to be sewed almost entirely closed, and one side of my mouth doesn’t lift. Vainly, I’ve worried that my face doesn’t look very appealing. But today, I was able to laugh about it with my husband Murray. “A wink and a crooked smile. Most people have to work at that, but I can do it without even trying.”

I know I’ll probably still have times when I’m discouraged and don’t feel useful. But one thing I know for sure, and thank God for. I can still be productive, happy, and I don’t plan to retire for a long time.

James 1:16-17:  Don’t be deceived, my dear brothers and sisters. Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.

Psalms 73:26: My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart; he is mine forever.

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Read more by Kathy at her blog:  http://kathymckinseyauthor.blogspot.com

#persevere #adversity #writerslife #powerofGod #JesusChrist