It was during the hot, sticky, COVID-free summer of 2019 that my older brother, Connor, and I would pay regular visits to our neighborhood pool. Sometimes we went so he could swim laps and train for the annual triathlon held in our area; other times just to chase rings and play around. 

It wasn’t long before we noticed that the majority of people who came to the pool dressed and acted differently than anything we’d previously been exposed to in our sheltered, Christian environment at home. There was definitely some coarse talk and gross romance going on—all signs of hungry souls searching for a purpose or a belonging in something or someone other than their Creator.

            Both Connor and I could feel God pressing it upon our hearts to reach out to these people. My brother, a good deal braver than I, purchased some tracts and left them lying on tables around the area. He even ventured to give one to a young woman personally. But after the woman’s boyfriend seemed to not appreciate that very much, Connor left the ladies to me.

One such lady was a head administrator of the pool. As I sat watching her work one day, God’s voice was so clear it was nearly audible: witness to her. Share your faith. However, I clamped down on the calling, certain she would have no time for me or even want to listen to what I had to say.

The pool closed soon after that, and the next time I saw the young woman’s face was in the obituary section of our local newspaper. Crushed by the pressures of this worldly life, she’d turned to what appeared to be her only out: suicide. My chance to have offered her hope had been there, ready for the taking—and now it was gone. There was no way I could bring that moment back ever again.

Pastor Noll preached this past week on being “called to service.” He shared the story of Elisha being called on by God to carry out His kingdom work. Elisha made it plain through his answer that he was relying on God, not his flesh, to obey. He didn’t bargain for time or say, “I can’t.” Instead, he offered a celebratory feast, boiling twelve of his own oxen and destroying his plowing equipment.

He probably didn’t know exactly where he was going or what Elijah was planning to have him do, but even so he left everything to follow Elijah and become his servant (1 Kings 19:21). If that isn’t an example of stepping out in faith, I don’t know what else would be.

Recently I’ve been making my way through the last chapters in the book of Isaiah. I absolutely love the passages that talk about Christ being our bridegroom and entering into a covenant with us—a covenant that can’t ever be broken (Isaiah 54:5, 59:21). It puts my relationship with Him in an entirely new light.

But, as a bride, am I being faithful to Him? Or am I acting like one of the stubborn Israelites, so fixed on self, I forget who I’m living for? There are and will be times God asks me the same questions He asked His people in Isaiah 50:2, “When I came, why was there no one? When I called, why was there no one to answer? Was My arm too short to deliver you? Do I lack the strength to rescue you?”
            I let silly pride get in the way of witnessing to that girl at the pool. I placed my confidence in my flesh, and what I believed I was capable of. I didn’t stop to think of the power of the Holy Spirit who lives inside me, ultimately losing sight of the realization that it’s Him alone who enables me to do all He’s called me to.

I’m not able to go back and reverse my mistake, but I can learn from it on the path ahead. Thankfully, I have the assurance that my faithlessness has not nullified God’s faithfulness (Romans 3:3-4). He’s placed many more people in my life since then to witness to.

Slowly, He’s training me to be more like Elisha: to let go of what doesn’t matter and to go forth with confidence to serve Him.

We often talk about the Christian life as costly, but I love that it was pointed out in Sunday’s message it’s costly because of the death of God’s only Son. He’s already paid the full price for the grace that sustains each one of us. Out of our joy of being recipients of such a great gift, we’re directed to live wholly for Him (Romans 12:1).

Of course, that doesn’t mean it’ll be easy. Sometimes obeying God’s call can make us feel lonely, upset, and/or even embarrassed on the earth where we sojourn. Again and again, I’ve experienced the world’s tug on me, especially in my choice of dresswear. My flesh longs for one thing, and the Spirit whispers to me another.

I have to constantly be reminded to keep my eyes and thoughts fixed on Jesus and the world yet to come. Earnestly, I beseech Him, “Help me to give up these temporary, secular pleasures for the eternal reward of Your kingdom, God.”

What is He calling you to do today? Right here, right now, let’s choose not to rely on our own strength to obey, but instead on His arm that is not too short to help us.