March 25, 2014
Maybe it’s the smallest surrenders that make the greatest growths in the soul. In my life, at least, it’s easier to rise to the challenge in the big things: the obvious challenges. When it know great things are being required of me, it feels as if there’s less of a choice … Of course I need to do this thing in front of me!
But when it’s not so clear, and when it’s a small thing that needs to be done, I end up much more inclined to war with myself over the actual doing of this thing in front of me that may or may not ever be recognized for the strength it took to do.
This past week God asked something of me. I felt the nudging for a few days and, for those few days, I fought. God, please don’t ask this of me. Not now. I can’t handle anything else at the moment. You know my plate is full-surely this isn’t really Your voice … But I knew it was. And I knew I simply had to decide: would I, or would I not, listen to His still, small voice?
During our afternoon walk on Tuesday I told M about my struggle. I didn’t tell her what it was; I was too cowardly yet to be held accountable in that way. After listening to my agonizing, she simply responded that “I sense this will ease a burden, and lighten a load for you.” No! I wanted to argue … You don’t understand: THIS, that is being asked of me, is the burden-that’s my problem! But I knew she was right. And somehow, in the mere speaking of the struggle, I knew I could say “yes” to Him. By the end of our walk, I was able to truthfully tell M that I was at peace now-not because I looked forward to it, but because there was a peace in the resolve of the decision being made. Yes.
By Friday afternoon’s walk, I was able to thank M for the part she had played, and able to tell her the details of the nudging I had said “yes” to. It was indeed a small thing. And, you know, I don’t believe He would have loved me any less if I had held onto my will in this “small” thing. But I would have missed out. The things He asks of us are those that will make us more real. More whole.