It was about 3:30pm as I pulled onto a busy eight-lane highway, the first leg of my nearly four-hour journey home. I had been traveling for work and after grabbing Chick-fil-a on the way out of town (a must-do for this small-town girl living in a lonely world devoid of waffle fries within a 100-mile radius) I hit the old familiar road ready to binge my favorite podcasts and maybe chat with a friend while I zoomed home as fast as possible. With the fuel gage on full and an early dinner sitting in the passenger seat, I was hopeful that I could make it home without any stops at all (especially if I made sure to only sip my lemonade).
“Naturally, we all have an inclination to command, and a great aversion to obey…”
St. Francis de Sales
As eight lanes turned to four and then to two, I reached to set the cruise control on a speed just fast enough to maximize my efficiency while mitigating my risk of getting pulled over, I heard a voice say to me “Why don’t you just go the speed limit?” I clicked the buttons to sixty-seven and again I heard a voice “That means 65, Amber.” My mind quickly darted from thought to thought, recalling the many instances in which the word obedience had come up over the past several weeks. There was no doubt God was trying to convey a message to me. Maybe this is an opportunity to be obedient, I thought. So, I clicked the buttons again and set the speed to sixty-five.
Within a few minutes of setting the cruise control, I noticed the dark clouds up ahead were looking awfully misty, boundaries blurring as they leaned down to kiss the ground. I suddenly remembered the pit that formed in my stomach earlier in the day when I had checked the weather outlook, seeing an increased chance for rain. I really did not want to drive into the rain. I drove along, anxiety having replaced my early dinner in the passenger seat, and tried to remind myself how much I loved rain.
Up and down the hills, I cruised along at sixty-five. At the crest of a particularly tall hill, my heart filled with joy as I saw the clouds were breaking and if I squinted just right, it looked like the road up ahead would pass right through an opening in the storm. Much to my relief, as the dark clouds drew nearer, the pavement was a bit wet, but the beautiful light-filled gap grew larger, beckoning me forward with open arms. I passed through the middle of the storm, heavy rain on each side of the highway, and drove into the light.
For the next 20 minutes, I marveled at the wonder of what had just occurred and the tangibility of God’s lesson in obedience. I praised God for granting me the wisdom to hear His voice and obey. If I had been going any faster, I would’ve had to drive in the rain. When the highway turned to interstate, I once again set my cruise control to the speed limit and I pondered the fruits of obedience, this recurring theme as of late. Little did I know the fruits would be even more abundant than the rain I barely missed.
When I was a little less than hour away from home it began to rain heavily and hard. By this time, it was dark and although my anxiety started to increase, I was comforted by the fact I would need to exit in just three miles so I could swing by the office and pick up my laptop cord (which I had somehow forgotten, although I was sure I had placed it in my laptop bag just a few days earlier). I’d be able to take a quick breather before traveling the last fifty miles home. I was saying a Hail Mary for good measure when suddenly, the interstate was covered with a thick layer of hail (the frozen kind, not the prayer kind) and my car began to drift. I took my foot off the gas and gingerly slowed down and drove with my hazards on until I reached the exit.
With my hands still sweaty and shaking, I pulled up to the office and parked my car. I stepped out into the rain, now gentle and soft, and examined the half-melted hail strewn across the road, glistening like little diamonds in the streetlight. I opened my phone and checked the radar and was relieved to see the storm was moving north, away from the interstate and that the rest of the drive home would be dry.
After a few minutes, I was back on the interstate and back to pondering God’s lesson in obedience. Had I been just several minutes faster, I would’ve been under the hail, blinded while being pummeled, rather than on top of it. What a horrible experience that would have been. And I absolutely would’ve been several minutes faster, had I ignored God’s invitation to embrace obedience.
It was an invitation, after all. I was not overcome by a spirit that physically forced my fingers to set the cruise to the speed limit. I actively chose to set the cruise to the speed limit. I was even resistant at first, going slower than I usually do, but still faster than the limit. I was, however, overcome by a spirit that guided my heart. Praise God for giving me the grace to listen.
“Naturally we all have an inclination to command, and a great aversion to obey; and yet it is certain that it is more for our good to obey than to command; hence perfect souls have always had a great affection for obedience, and have found all their joy and comfort in it.”
St. Francis de Sales
God invites us to embrace obedience in little (and sometimes big) ways each day. The little nudge to make conversation with a person in line at the coffee shop, the inner voice that urges us to hold our tongue when we want to argue, the recurring thought of it’s been a while since my last Confession – all gentle promptings, all quiet invitations. Yet how often do we respond with resistance: engaging our phones as we mindlessly scroll, instead of in conversation with a stranger or spout off exactly what we want to say to our spouse, ignoring the whisper to let it go? How often do we justify our actions and inactions? Well, I haven’t committed any mortal sins, so do I really need to go? Everybody else is going seven over the speed limit, so I probably won’t get caught.
More precarious still, how often, amidst the noise of a world filled with every distraction imaginable, do we completely miss these quiet invitations to obedience, gentle little promptings falling on deaf ears and overwhelmed hearts? How often do we speed ahead at our desired pace right into the storms of life and then ask God why on earth would he let us be pummeled, blinded by the rain and hail? How often do we unknowingly trade the long-term, but still invisible, reward for the clearly visible immediate gratifications we can see and choose?
Over the past few months, I’ve developed the habit of driving the speed limit and in addition to pondering God’s profound lesson in obedience, I’ve also discovered how much peace comes with letting God set the pace. No longer do I feel rushed to zoom down the road feeling annoyed by anyone who slows me down. No longer does my stomach drop when I see a speed check ahead. No longer do I feel pressured to reach my destination any faster than I’m meant to.
What a metaphor for life. God has mapped out our journeys so perfectly and he knows our destination and our ETA. He has paved every road and set every speed limit according to His plan. He knows where the breaks in the storm will be. He knows every detour we’ll need to take and every hailstone that will cause us anxiety. He knows when we’ll need to forget our laptop cord, so we have an excuse to pull-off and rest. He knows and he invites. He invites us to embrace obedience. He invites us to embrace His itinerary with all its boundaries and limitations – and with all its gifts. So, what does embracing obedience look like for you today, dear reader? In what ways are you speeding straight toward the hailstorm? What whispers and nudges have you been ignoring? What volume do you need to turn down to better hear the voice of God?
What does God’s invitation to obedience look like in your life? May you open your heart to the grace needed to accept this invitation!
