Obedience

A few mornings a week I wake up while it is still dark, and I walk up and down our street. Our house faces north, and when I walk to the left, up the hill, it is very dark, and the only light is the spherical glare of the streetlights.  When I turn around, at the top of the hill, I can see far to the east, where the sun starts to rise behind the trees and the water tower. Usually, on my first lap, the far sky is still black when I reach the top of the hill. And by the time my walk comes to an end and it is time to go inside and make my family breakfast, the sky is tinged with pinks and orange, blushing as the sun rises in its glory.

Sometimes I like to pretend that my walking faster will speed up the rising of the sun. That if I can hustle up that hill, I will make the light shine down.

How easy it would be to believe that were true. To think that my walking, my taking steps has anything to do with bringing the sun into the sky, turning the earth around on its axis.

After all, it happens: I walk and the sun rises. It is correlated.

How easy it would be to think that I have something to do with it.

And how freeing to know that it is not true. That my steps up that hill do not pull the weight of that big ball of fire, that my shoulders don’t carry the burden of the whole world’s existence. That even on the mornings I hit snooze, stay in bed, don’t even open the curtains to look at the darkness as it turns into light, even on those mornings, the sun comes up. Without my help. Without me.

I’ve been thinking about this every morning for the last two months. Thinking about how essential I am to myself in my own world and about the weight I feel, and about how it might all just be perceived weight and perceived pressure and perceived importance.

After all, if I don’t wake up tomorrow the sun will still rise.

I set out to write a post about obedience. About our efforts and our strivings and our following Christ, and how those are important and pivotal. And I wrote that post. But I didn’t feel like it was right. Something was off. And I think that something was this:

God is at work with or without me. God is active in a million places in a million different ways. Christ was obedient on my behalf. Perfectly obedient. You could say the sun rose and set with Christ.  And when I show up in the places and ways that God is working—when I embody Christ to the world—it is a beautiful thing to behold. God doesn’t need me to obey; but God is faithful to use my obedience. Even when it is flawed, even when my motives aren’t pure.

I think obedience is a lot like getting up at 5:45 and going for a walk. I would much rather be sleeping. It’s not easy to get out of bed and put on my shoes and go out into the dark. But I never regret watching a sunrise. I never regret moving my body, opening my lungs, and having a quiet start to the day. I am always glad I showed up where there were good things happening.

So, when I offer someone else hope or encouragement, when I take care of the sick and the poor, when I don’t treat my children as second-class citizens, I show up where good things are happening.  Where God is at work. When I turn away from myself and face the world with all its pain, when I am diligent in my small tasks that receive no praise or accolade, when I silence that harsh voice inside and offer myself up to the whisper of grace, I’m with God at his work. When I am obedient by making a decision that causes me to sacrifice, it might be hard, but it will be good. Because Christ is already there, waiting for us. Waiting to show us good things.