Daily Reflections From God's Word

Tag: Obedience

  • Divine Disruptions – Day 1

    Jonah: When God Sends a Storm

    📖 “But the Lord sent out a great wind on the sea…” — Jonah 1:4 (NKJV)

    Jonah didn’t misunderstand God. He wasn’t unsure about his calling.
    He just didn’t like it.

    God said, “Arise, go to Nineveh…”
    Jonah said, “No thanks,” and ran the other way.

    This wasn’t fear—it was flat-out rebellion. Jonah didn’t want Nineveh spared. He didn’t want them forgiven. He hated them. He knew God would be merciful, and he didn’t want mercy for people he couldn’t stand.

    So he fled. Booked a ship. Headed to Tarshish like he could outrun the voice of God.

    But when Jonah ran, God didn’t chase him with silence.
    He chased him with a storm.

    “But the Lord sent out a great wind…”

    That one line says everything.

    The storm wasn’t from Satan. It wasn’t from sin.
    It was from God.

    A holy disruption. A divine intervention.
    A perfectly timed, unavoidable wake-up call.

    Jonah’s rebellion didn’t just affect him. His disobedience threatened the lives of everyone on that boat. That’s the thing about sin—it’s never private. It always has fallout. Always spills over onto the innocent. Always causes someone else to wonder, “Why is this happening?”

    But even as the boat rocked and the crew panicked, Jonah knew.
    He said, “I serve the God who made the sea.”
    He knew who was behind the wind.

    And here’s the grace in it all:
    God had already prepared a fish.

    The fish wasn’t judgment. It was protection.
    It was messy. It was uncomfortable. It stank. But it kept him alive and brought him back.

    That’s what God’s disruptions often feel like:
    Unpleasant. Inconvenient. Humbling.
    But merciful.

    He’ll interrupt your plans to protect your calling.
    He’ll break your boat before He lets you self-destruct.

    🙏 So here’s the question for today:

    • Are you running from something you’ve been clearly called to do?
    • Have others started to feel the weight of your decisions?
    • Could it be that the storm isn’t meant to crush you—but to bring you home?

    Jonah’s story reminds us that God doesn’t give up just because we do.
    He’ll shake the sea. He’ll send the storm. He’ll even prepare the fish.
    Because the call doesn’t get canceled just because you ran from it.

    He still wants you.
    Storm, scars, and all.

    📌 Closing Line:

    “When God doesn’t have your attention, He’ll disturb what does.”
    Just ask Jonah.

  • When Obedience Makes No Sense: Marching Through the Impossible

    Scripture focus: “You will not need to fight in this battle. Position yourselves, stand still and see the salvation of the Lord…” (2 Chronicles 20:17, NKJV)

    The Bible is packed with stories that, if we’re being honest, sound like they should’ve ended in disaster. People facing impossible odds, following battle plans that would never fly in a military strategy room—and somehow walking away victorious. Why? Because God was the one calling the shots.

    Let’s start at the Red Sea. The children of Israel—more than 600,000 men, plus women and children—had finally escaped Egypt. But they were trapped between the uncrossable Red Sea and Pharaoh’s pursuing army. No weapons. No escape route. No time. But instead of rallying the people to arms, Moses said something crazy: “Stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord” (Exodus 14:13). Then God parted the waters. The people walked through on dry land. And when Pharaoh’s army followed, the sea closed in behind them.

    That’s not strategy. That’s sovereignty.

    And then there’s Jericho. A fortified city with high walls and strong defenses. Any human general would’ve planned a siege. But God gave Joshua a blueprint that sounded like a children’s game: walk around the city once a day for six days in total silence. Then on the seventh day, march around seven times. Blow the trumpets. Shout. That’s 13 total laps around the city.

    Now pause for a second. The number 13 has a bad reputation. The world calls it unlucky. Some elevators skip the 13th floor. People talk about Friday the 13th like it’s cursed. But let this sink in: God used 13 laps—that “unlucky” number—to bring down the walls of one of the strongest cities in the Promised Land.

    Let the world call it bad luck. We call it divine design.

    It doesn’t stop there. Gideon started with 32,000 men to fight the Midianites. But God trimmed it down to 10,000… then just 300 men—armed not with swords, but with trumpets, torches, and clay pitchers. Judges 7:12 says the enemy was “as numerous as locusts; and their camels… as the sand by the seashore.” That’s not just outnumbered. That’s outmatched, overwhelmed, and underqualified. Yet by God’s hand, victory came anyway.

    Over and over we see it:

    • Hezekiah and the Assyrian army (2 Kings 19)
    • Jehoshaphat against the armies of Moab and Ammon (2 Chronicles 20)
    • Daniel in the lion’s den (Daniel 6)
    • Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego in the fiery furnace (Daniel 3)

    These aren’t just Bible stories—they’re testimonies. Reminders that when obedience seems foolish, God’s power is often just moments away.

    I don’t know what kind of battle you’re facing today. Maybe you’re on lap 11 or 12, and nothing’s changed. The walls are still there. The enemy still looms. The fear is still whispering in your ear. But let me say this:

    Don’t quit before lap 13.

    Don’t let the world define your “unlucky” situation. Let God redeem it for His glory. Maybe you feel like the underdog—like Gideon. Or maybe you’ve been marching silently like Joshua, wondering if your obedience even matters. It does. It always does.

    And when you’re tired? When quitting seems easier than continuing? Remember the words of Jehaziel in 2 Chronicles 20:17, “Stand still and see the salvation of the Lord.” Or David’s bold declaration to Goliath in 1 Samuel 17:47, “The battle is the Lord’s.” Or the simple, powerful invitation from Psalm 46:10: “Be still, and know that I am God.”

    There’s a song from the Imperials—recorded back in 1979—that still speaks:

    Praise the Lord, for the chains that seem to bind you
    Serve only to remind you
    That they drop powerless behind you
    When you praise Him.

    Chains look real. Walls feel permanent. But God? He specializes in things that don’t make sense.

    Reflection Questions:

    1. Have you ever obeyed God when it didn’t make sense? What happened?
    2. Are you on a “lap” right now where quitting feels easier than trusting?
    3. What walls are you facing today that need a God-sized breakthrough?

    Final Encouragement:
    Obedience may not feel powerful—but it positions us to see God’s power clearly. Don’t stop short. Don’t buy the world’s definition of what’s “lucky” or “logical.” If He brought you to it, He’s more than able to bring you through it.

    Keep marching. Lap 13 is coming.

  • The Amalekite You Spared Will Be the One That Finishes You

    Scripture Focus: “He also took Agag king of the Amalekites alive, and utterly destroyed all the people with the edge of the sword.” —1 Samuel 15:8 NKJV

    “Because you have rejected the word of the Lord, He also has rejected you from being king.” —1 Samuel 15:23 NKJV

    “So I stood over him and killed him, because I was sure that he could not live after he had fallen.” —2 Samuel 1:10 NKJV

    We don’t talk enough about how dangerous partial obedience really is.

    Saul was king. Appointed by God, chosen for a divine purpose, equipped with authority and opportunity. And when God gave him a clear directive—wipe out the Amalekites, every one of them—he went to war, but didn’t follow through. He killed the people, sure. But he spared Agag, their king. Maybe it seemed more merciful. Maybe more strategic. Maybe he wanted a trophy of war. Who knows?

    But here’s what we do know: God saw it as rebellion. Not just a misstep. Not just a mistake. Not a “gray area.”Rebellion.

    And it cost Saul the throne.

    Samuel didn’t sugar-coat it:

    “To obey is better than sacrifice, and to heed than the fat of rams. For rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft, and stubbornness is as iniquity and idolatry.” (1 Sam. 15:22–23)

    Let that sink in. God compares rebellion—not doing what He clearly told you to do—to witchcraft. That’s not just harsh. That’s a divine indictment.

    Because God doesn’t want lip-service. He doesn’t want sacrifices if they come from a heart that’s selectively obedient. Obedience is the measuring stick—not activity, not emotion, not ritual. Just raw, humble obedience.

    But Saul didn’t get it.

    He thought a sacrifice would smooth it over. He thought partial obedience plus good intentions was enough. He thought sparing Agag wouldn’t matter.

    Fast forward to 2 Samuel 1. Saul is mortally wounded, barely clinging to life. And who shows up?

    An Amalekite.The very people Saul refused to destroy. The very enemy God told him to wipe out. The sin that wasn’t fully dealt with now finishes him off.

    “So I stood over him and killed him,” the Amalekite said, “because I was sure that he could not live after he had fallen.” (2 Sam. 1:10)

    Saul’s delayed obedience ended in destruction. The enemy he spared became the agent of his demise.

    So let’s get honest. What Amalekite are you sparing?

    What sin have you convinced yourself you can “manage”?

    What compromise are you justifying because “it’s not that bad”?

    What command of God have you partially obeyed while trying to dress it up with good works?

    Maybe it’s pride. Maybe it’s lust. Maybe it’s unforgiveness. Maybe it’s that habit you’ve renamed a “struggle” just so you don’t have to repent of it.

    Whatever it is—God told you to kill it. Not cage it. Not hide it. Not clean it up and put a robe on it like Saul probably did with Agag. He said destroy it.

    And if you don’t—it will come back. It might take time. It might wait until you’re tired, broken, or spiritually exposed. But it will come back.

    The thing you’re trying to control will one day control you.

    The sin you’re feeding will one day feed on you.

    Don’t be fooled by the delay. Just because the Amalekite hasn’t struck yet doesn’t mean judgment isn’t coming. God’s patience is mercy, not permission.

    Obedience isn’t optional.

    If God says walk away from the relationship, walk.

    If God says shut the door to that addiction, shut it.

    If God says confess, surrender, repent—do it now.

    Because partial obedience is still disobedience.

    And disobedience always carries consequences.

    Reflection Questions:

    1. What has God told you to completely remove from your life that you’ve been sparing or managing?

    2. Are you offering sacrifice (church attendance, service, giving) to try to cover up an area of rebellion?

    3. Is there any area where you’ve obeyed 80%, but left the final 20% untouched because it’s painful or inconvenient?

    Today’s Prayer: Lord, I don’t want to offer You empty sacrifices while keeping parts of my life in rebellion. I don’t want to play games with my sin. Show me the Amalekites I’ve spared. Expose them. Make me ruthless about killing what You’ve called cursed. I choose obedience—total, immediate, uncomfortable obedience. Help me walk in surrender. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

  • But If Not—The Fireproof Faith of the Faithful

    Daniel 3:16–18 (NKJV)“Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego answered and said to the king, ‘O Nebuchadnezzar, we have no need to answer you in this matter. If that is the case, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us… But if not, let it be known to you, O king, that we do not serve your gods.’” Daniel 3:16-18 (NKJV)

    There’s a line in this passage that should stop us in our tracks: “But if not…”

    It’s not a lack of faith.

    It’s not doubt.

    It’s full-on, furnace-ready, God-centered conviction.

    These young men looked the most powerful ruler on earth in the face and said, “Do your worst. Our God is able. But even if He doesn’t—we still won’t bow.”

    Now, pause right there. How many of us are still standing when God doesn’t answer the way we want Him to?

    We live in an age where faith is often treated like a spiritual vending machine. Punch in a verse, press “prayer,” and expect the blessing to fall. But this passage reminds us—biblical faith isn’t measured by the outcome. It’s measured by obedience, no matter the cost.

    These men didn’t just believe God could deliver them. They believed He was worthy, even if He didn’t.

    That’s not just bold. That’s holy.

    And it makes me wonder—what kind of faith am I living out in front of others? Is it the kind that stands firm when culture applauds me, but folds the moment I get called out? Or is it the kind that can stand in front of the fire, knowing God can deliver, but being fully committed even if He chooses not to?

    Truth be told, many of us are more like the Israelites who bowed than these three who stood.

    We rationalize.

    We compromise.

    We say, “God knows my heart,” while our knees hit the ground before golden idols we no longer even recognize as idols—popularity, acceptance, politics, status, convenience.

    But the real question we have to ask today is: Are we building a faith that will hold up when the fire is turned up?

    That’s not just a rhetorical question. It’s one that demands a response.

    Where in your life have you been “careful” when you should’ve been courageous?

    What cultural pressures have you allowed to shape your obedience?

    What if God doesn’t answer your prayer the way you hoped—will you still worship Him?

    We need a revival of that “but if not” kind of faith. A faith that’s fireproof because it’s not based on the outcome—it’s based on the One who walks with us through the fire.

    And friend, don’t miss this: Jesus didn’t show up before the fire. He met them in it.

    Sometimes your deliverance isn’t from the fire—it’s through it.

    Reflection Questions:

    1. What are you currently facing that feels like a fiery furnace?

    2. Are you trusting God to deliver you, or only following Him if He does?

    3. What would it look like for you to stand without compromise this week?

    Let’s get honest, church. Let’s stop bowing and start standing.

    Prayer: Lord, give me a boldness like Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego. Help me to stand firm in the face of pressure and not bend to the world’s demands. May I trust in Your ability to deliver—but walk in obedience even if You don’t. Strengthen my resolve to honor You no matter the cost. In Jesus’ name, amen.

  • Obedient Unto Death

    “Though He was a Son, yet He learned obedience by the things which He suffered. And having been perfected, He became the author of eternal salvation to all who obey Him.” — Hebrews 5:8–9 (NKJV)

    Jesus Christ didn’t just die for us—He obeyed for us. That’s a part of the gospel we often overlook. The cross wasn’t just about pain. It was about submission. It was about laying down His will in perfect obedience to the Father, even when every fiber of His human flesh cried out to take another path. And He did it for us.

    Hebrews 5:8 says that “though He was a Son, yet He learned obedience by the things which He suffered.” Let that sink in. Jesus—the sinless, spotless Son of God—learned obedience through suffering. He didn’t need to learn how to be righteous. He already was. But through His incarnation, He demonstrated the cost of true obedience in human flesh.

    But that obedience was not cheap.

    It was not convenient.

    It did not come with applause or comfort.

    It came with sweat like drops of blood in Gethsemane.

    It came with betrayal, mockery, and a Roman cross.

    That’s what obedience looked like in the life of Christ.

    So what about us?

    We want to follow Jesus, but often without walking the path of obedience He took. We want resurrection without crucifixion. We want glory without surrender. But Scripture doesn’t leave us that option. Hebrews 5:9 says He is

    “the author of eternal salvation to all who obey Him.”

    Not admire Him. Not simply claim Him. Not just nod in agreement at His teachings. But obey Him.

    Fully.

    Without conditions.

    Unto death if necessary.

    We say we want revival. But do we want obedience?

    We want the fire of God to fall, but don’t want to lay the sacrifice of our will on the altar.

    We say “use me, Lord,” but recoil the moment He asks for our comfort, our pride, our control.

    We say “Thy will be done,” then grieve when He takes us through Gethsemane.

    Real obedience costs something.

    Ask Abraham when he tied Isaac to the altar.

    Ask Daniel when he heard the lions roar.

    Ask Peter when the rooster crowed.

    But obedience is not just costly. It’s transformational.

    Jesus didn’t just die on the cross. He died in Gethsemane, when He said,

    “Nevertheless, not My will, but Yours, be done” (Luke 22:42, NKJV).

    That was the moment of surrender. That was where obedience triumphed over desire. The crucifixion was the outward evidence of an inward obedience.

    That kind of surrender changes a person. It refines, purifies, exposes, and realigns.

    You simply cannot obey God unto death and stay the same.

    And that obedience is not passive. It’s defiant.Think about it—Jesus’ obedience was a direct act of rebellion against the powers of darkness.

    The cross wasn’t weakness. It was holy resistance.

    The greatest act of obedience was also the greatest act of war against sin, death, and Satan. To obey God in a fallen world is to declare war on the kingdom of darkness. That’s why it’s so hard. That’s why it’s so resisted.

    It was no different in Nazi Germany. When Pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer chose to resist Hitler, he did so not just politically, but spiritually. His faith required obedience that defied evil, even when the cost was imprisonment and ultimately death. He wrote,

    “When Christ calls a man, He bids him come and die.”

    Bonhoeffer didn’t just say that. He lived it.

    And he died for it.

    Obedience may not always look like marching off to martyrdom—but it will look like dying to self.

    Dying to pride.

    Dying to compromise.

    Dying to comfort.

    And that’s where many modern Christians hesitate. We’ve been sold a brand of Christianity that celebrates convenience, comfort, and casual belief.

    But that’s not the gospel.

    The gospel calls us to pick up our cross daily and follow Jesus. The gospel calls us to lose our life so that we might find it (Luke 9:23–24, NKJV). The gospel calls us to obedience—even when it hurts.

    Even unto death.

    So what does obedience look like in your life?

    Is there something God’s been calling you to lay down that you’ve resisted?

    Have you confused belief with obedience?

    Are you living a life that says, “Not my will, but Yours be done”?

    Let me tell you—obedience may be costly, but it is never wasted. The cross was not a waste. It was the path to victory. And your obedience, no matter how hidden, no matter how painful, is precious to God.

    “To obey is better than sacrifice” (1 Samuel 15:22, NKJV).

    Jesus showed us what it looks like. Now it’s our turn.

    Obey Him. No matter the cost.

    Obey Him. Even unto death.

  • Lord, Use Me — Even in the Humble Things

    “Jesus, use me. O Lord, don’t refuse me. Surely there’s a work that I can do. Even though it’s humble, Lord help my will to crumble. For though the cost be great, I’ll work for you.”

    These lyrics from a song my mother used to hum while folding laundry or picking tomatoes have echoed in my heart lately. Back then, I thought it was just a sweet old tune. Now I know better. It’s a prayer of surrender. A plea for purpose. A cry of commitment.

    We often associate “working for God” with grand gestures—preaching, missions, miracles. But more often, the work is humble.

    It’s obedience when no one sees.

    Faithfulness in the mundane.

    Forgiveness when it hurts.

    Jesus said,

    “He who is faithful in what is least is faithful also in much.” (Luke 16:10, NKJV)

    And again,

    “Take up your cross daily, and follow Me.” (Luke 9:23, NKJV)

    The cross doesn’t always look like suffering on a public stage. Sometimes it looks like dying to your pride in a private moment.

    Think of William Tyndale—burned at the stake for translating the Bible. His work was humble, slow, unseen for years. Yet because of him, we hold the Word of God in our hands today.

    Today, ask yourself:

    What work has God called you to that you’ve been resisting because it’s “too small”?

    Have you asked God to use you but ignored His invitations to humble service?

    Is your will still on the throne, or have you let it crumble at the foot of the cross?

    There is a work you can do. But you’ll never do it if you wait for applause, comfort, or control.

    Today, make the same choice that old song proclaims:

    Even though it’s humble, Lord, I’ll work for You.

  • For Such a Time as This

    10 March, 2024

    Esther 4:13-14 reveals a pivotal moment in the life of Queen Esther, challenging her to step out of her comfort zone for a greater purpose: “Do not think in your heart that you will escape in the king’s palace any more than all the other Jews. For if you remain completely silent at this time, relief and deliverance will arise from another place, but you and your father’s house will perish. Yet who knows whether you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this?”

    In these verses, Mordecai urges Esther to recognize her unique position in an impending crisis. Faced with the potential destruction of her people, Esther must confront her fears and take action. The phrase “for such a time as this” resonates as a powerful reminder that our lives are not coincidental; they are divinely appointed.

    As we reflect on Esther’s response, we are reminded of the moments in our own lives when we are called to act courageously. Each of us has been placed in unique situations where our actions can impact others. It may be standing up for someone who feels marginalized, sharing a message of hope, or stepping into an unfamiliar role in our community.

    God often orchestrates opportunities for us to fulfill our purpose in the face of adversity. Like Esther, we may feel hesitant and small, but God calls us to embrace the great plans He has for us. Our obedience can create ripples of change that extend far beyond our understanding.

    Let us pray for insight to recognize the “such a time as this” moments in our lives. May we embrace our divine purpose and trust that God equips us for acts of courage, knowing that we hold the potential to influence our world through faithfulness and love. Amen