We hesitate before giving all to God

Our life isn’t going to change in the way we think

I’ve had many conversations with Catholic and Evangelical friends about what God expects of us once we’ve turned our lives over to him. There’s a familiar refrain, which I translate as a space, a hesitancy, between our discovery of God and giving ourselves. We hem and haw over what God may want. We balk for a series of stuttering moments. Our yield may last moments or procrastinate into years.

Years are more common.

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Incredibly, we repeat this pattern over and over. “I’m sorry for setting you aside, God.” Pause. The dishwasher is broken. Ponder. The car’s making noise. Apologies. A friend needs me. “Hang on for a moment. I’ll be right back!” We don’t get right back.

We get convinced, and later reminded, and re-convinced, repeatedly, of God as creator, savior, and the Spirit who wants to dwell in us. We’re primed for him, but not always engaged. Knowing God “is,” grasping his presence, and recognizing that he wants us to reach out to him may seem like the biggest step toward Kingdom life. There’s much, much more for us, and from God.

That’s why most of us hesitate. We're uncertain about God.

Those hesitant, distracting moments aren’t just taking us from God. They’re our excuses, us shying away. God works with us in distractions. Our life isn’t going to change in that way. Giving ourselves to God isn’t like taking on a new, different, holy job assignment. We take on a new relationship where holiness surrounds us in all the jobs we already have. 

The process of giving up money, fame, wild adventures, and sketchy relationships isn’t the hard part, according to what friends tell me. There are lots of ways to weave healthy versions of those human experiences into Christian life and Catholic expressions of faith. That’s the business of walking with God. 

The error in our thinking about God is to expect the fully active holy life means taking on new sacrifices, noxious hardships borne from the stuff of nightmares. The apostles dropped everything. What about us? The sacrificial life of raising a family, earning a living for our loved ones, and so on, are hardships enough. God doesn’t have a Pandora’s box behind his back, ready to fling into our path.

Many of the apostles were life-long friends. Their skills marked how God used them. They met in homes and temples where they always had. Their turmoils with governments, wars, and migration affected everyone in their nation and neighborhoods.

Life with God is amazing, but not a smarmy saccharine delight that we suck through a straw. “Well, great! We’re going to get along just fine, Jesus!” As we age, we might experience every debilitating experience known to humanity. Like all people. God allows life to continue its anxious course. Not just as a test, but for our example to others. Our witness, and our love for the God who is with us.

It’s not God whom we’ve got to worry about. It’s us. People should be asking, “How does that guy keep smiling through all this awfulness?” Not, “He’s a mess. You don’t want to be around him.”

There are many confusions about God that delay our commitments to him. We have conditions, fences, and expectations that we don’t want God to disrupt. “I’ve gotta keep the truck, for sure. And I don’t want to leave Colorado. Those are non-negotiable.” 

Being open to God’s leading, if we’re honest, shouldn’t have such limits. God put you in Colorado and already participated in getting you that truck. The awakening to God is awakening to the fact he’s been there all along.

The call of Jesus Christ might frighten us because we think we’ll not just be torn from our comfortable life, but thrown into the worst places on earth. If you want to look at life that way, that’s fine. As an earthen traveler, though, you’re already in a broken world. There’s no escape from “worse” in any location. 

We worry that the more we get to know God the more likely he will need us to head off to Nigeria or Syria or Colombia and live in a hut in some remote bombed-out, desolate village, speaking a language that we have only recently studied, and eat food supplied by the UN.

It’s not uncommon to have this fear. It is misguided, but not uncommon. Where God has already put you is likely where God wants you. Compared to Nigeria, you may already be in a worse place, with more temptations, and more difficulties.

To fully embrace what we imagine God wants us to do, our practiced skepticism needs to be replaced with wonder. This is not easy. While we conjure up twisted ideas about poverty-stricken, bare-footed journeys on muddy paths in jungles, looking for pagans who just might eat us, there are plenty of similar stricken folks down the asphalt road where we live. The wonder is in God using us.

Letting God lead us, and be a daily part of our every moment, does not mean a Catholicism of smoky suicidal pits of godless martyrdom. The pace of life in suffering places is more friendly and sweet when we acknowledge the Spirit with us. We will fall short of being a fully Christ-like disciple not because we’ve remained in our comfortable culture. Mission is at the root of all discipleship. When we accept the call as Christ's followers we become missionaries. Mission work means something more than getting on a boat and traveling to the hinterlands. 

How far do we have to go to drive out the demons, heal the sick, and announce the coming of the Kingdom? Most of Jesus’ disciples went only a few miles. Quite a bit of all Christian missions are done in the neighborhoods where we live.

We Christians can walk in the Kingdom and dispel evil and disease as we walk. That is an exciting concept. A vision I would like to experience without hesitation.

OK, God. “I’m back!” There’s a leak in the roof, though. Give me a minute.

"Oh yeah, please be with me . . . and heal my friend, Steve . . . where are my keys . . . ah, thanks . . .  "