Do you ever tell yourself things that you think you mean but perhaps, deep down, you know may not be true? We willingly deceive ourselves for many different reasons, but usually a part of it is because it makes us feel better, at least in that particular moment, about ourselves or about the circumstance we find ourselves in. We comfort ourselves with what we want to hear and what we want to believe about ourselves, regardless of whether it means ignoring our gut, ignoring others, even ignoring what God thinks about our situation and our actions. We do this because the alternative means wrestling with something we find uncomfortable – whether it is something we can change but don’t want to, or something we quite frankly can’t do a thing about.
As a Christian, something I’ve told myself which, maybe, deep down, isn’t as true as I want to believe is that I would serve the Lord in whatever way He might call me. What usually comes to mind are those typical, “big” acts of service. You know… becoming a missionary, writing devotional books, moving to some city to help in an organization that attends to the needs of the poor, the lonely, the broken. Foregoing material comfort for a much more lasting and greater good. At least, this is what I tell myself.
But then I look at my life. And I see that I am not even fully offering up all my “small” decisions and “little” actions throughout the day. If I can’t be bothered to go out of my way for Him in my day to day life, become a little inconvenienced or uncomfortable even, willingly and graciously give up my druthers or suffer from time to time, why in the world would I think I’d be willing to pack up and move from my beloved home country if the Lord placed it upon my heart to do so? Or that I would leave my family and friends to pursue a calling somewhere else? I think the real truth about our hearts, our attitudes, what we would or wouldn’t do is revealed in our current lives, what we do as we serve in the places we are now, our day to day actions and decisions.
Why are the small things the hardest? We can tell ourselves all the great things we “would do” for those we love – drive across the country to pick them up if they were stranded, pay out our ears for their needed medical treatments, serve in so many “big,” urgent ways. And, you know what, maybe we really would or really have done those things. But then… when it comes to the small stuff, we forget about all those big things we “would do” so willingly and cop a whole different attitude. I have to wash the dishes again? They need me to volunteer another time this week? She didn’t tell me exactly what I wanted to hear? Psh. I don’t have time for that and, even if I do, I’m certainly going to let it be known loud and clear how I feel about it. We get angry, we get frustrated, we get short-tempered and even mean. Or we make sure to brag or complain to others about how great we are, all that we do, all that we put up with. Meanwhile all those fruits of the Spirit tumble out of our basket and down the steps.
In the Bible, there is a man named Naaman mentioned in 2 Kings 5. (Said “nay-min,” not “nah, man.”) This guy was an army commander under the king of Aram. He was highly respected and viewed as a great man as a result of his success as a soldier. Also, he had leprosy. A young girl from Israel was serving Naaman’s wife and told her that if Naaman went to Samaria to see the prophet Elisha, then surely he would be healed. The king allowed Naaman to go, and even sent a letter to the king of Israel. Naaman brought lots of silver and gold and clothing, likely expecting it to be a very involved, lengthy, and costly remedy. When Naaman arrived at Elisha’s house, one of Elisha’s messengers told him, “Go, wash yourself seven times in the Jordan, and your flesh will be restored and you will be cleansed.” Naaman went away angry. He said, “I thought that he would surely come out to me and stand and call on the name of the Lord his God, wave his hand over the spot and cure me of my leprosy. Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Couldn’t I wash in them and be cleansed?” Then he turned and went off in a rage. Naaman’s servants went to him and said, “My father, if the prophet had told you to do some great thing, would you not have done it? How much more, then, when he tells you, ‘Wash and be cleansed’!” So he went down and dipped himself in the Jordan seven times, as he had been told, and his flesh was restored. Naaman desired to give a gift to Elisha, but Elisha refused. Naaman had been transformed, quite literally, in this place and desired to serve none of the other gods which were worshiped in his country – but only the Lord, the God of Elisha, the God of Israel. As he put it, he now knew “that there is no God in all the world except in Israel.” And he wanted a piece of Israel to be with him so he brought some of the soil back to his home country.
The story of Naaman is relatable for me in that most convicting part when his servants basically tell him, “Hey, if Elisha had made some big to-do about this, created a giant spectacle, or asked you to do some great thing in order to be healed, you would have done it. Instead, he’s told you to do something simple and you’re upset about it?!” No wonder Naaman heeded their counsel and went to the Jordan. Despite it not being the cleanest or the best river, in his opinion, it was the only one that could cleanse and restore him in such a way. Interesting river. Interesting concept.
I wonder if Naaman got angry because – despite all the great expense and great effort he told himself he would endure to be healed – the minute he was asked to do a small task, all those “would do’s” fell out of his mind and he was consumed with the thought of having to make the effort to go to the river and wash seven times. Suddenly, even that was a big deal and the ball was in his court. Perhaps, deep down, Naaman hoped that all he would need to do is stand there and Elisha would “come out to [him] and stand and call on the name of the Lord his God, wave his hand over the spot and cure [him] of [his] leprosy.” He revealed as much in verse 11. All of a sudden, the truth came out. Naaman wanted it to be even simpler, no effort on his part to get clean – just “poof” and done. As if that is more miraculous somehow. But when God gives us the answers, big or small, we are given the choice to obey or not. It’s not a “Here is my direction and now you’re good” kind of thing. It’s our decision to act on that, to follow, to obey. Even when that answer isn’t what we were hoping for or expecting.
So how about me? Do I deceive myself like Naaman did? All the time. The small, simple things are the areas where I mess up the most, the places I stumble and fall, the places I can do so much better at emulating Jesus, the places I can act in fuller obedience and have a more loving attitude. When I realize this, when I become aware of those little things I should do or stop doing – what is my response? Am I angry, pouty, doubtful? Do I just ignore the answer and rationalize my ways… or do I humbly obey? Those “smaller” acts of obedience just might be what God is asking of me for now and forever, the things that will most effectively speak to others in some way about His goodness and greatness and love. Not a missionary venture, not a published book, not some widely known act. If He places those things on my heart and accomplishes such things through me, then that’s great and to Him be the glory. But maybe it’s the smallest things that will somehow make the biggest difference.
I deceive myself, even in ways I’m sure I don’t realize, to make myself feel better. To avoid grappling with the hard questions. To resist the idea that I have faults and can in many ways be a better person. Truly, and not in some “look at me being humble” kind of way. Honestly, if I don’t have a gracious attitude about the small things, don’t portray love and kindness in my everyday actions, don’t obey in those “little” ways, then those are areas I most need to pray about and be more diligent in living out. Calling myself a follower of Christ means I am acknowledging His lead, and actually following. Sometimes I think we let ourselves dawdle and detour and eventually detach. Thankfully, He calls us back and we can choose to obey or disobey. The faithfulness of the journey is measured by the faithfulness of our steps. Let’s let His light shine through each one.
Luke 16:10-12, HLC
sacred strokes 