Maybe they’ll just think I’m looking for something on the floor.
That was my hope as I slid off my chair and onto the hardwood. Down on my knees to pray.
I did not want to kneel three feet from where my boys were busy attacking villages in their “Clash of Clans world.” I didn’t want them to think their mom was a weirdo.
What I wanted to do was finish my little Lent Devotional reading and get ready for church. I wanted to check it off my list and move on to important things like making sure my kids shoved pop tarts down their throats before heading out the door.
But I couldn’t finish the reading while arguing with the voice inside my head saying, “Get on your knees and pray.”
“Well, that’s just silly. I’m perfectly comfortable right here.”
“Get on your knees.”
“But I don’t have much time.”
“Get on your knees.”
“But…okay, I’ll do it.”
And I did. It wasn’t magical. Actually it was awkward.
I don’t remember my prayer from that morning. But I do remember that later as I sat in the fourth row on the left side of the church auditorium and our pastor began preaching about obeying God in the little things, I got goosebumps on my arms.
God did not ask me to kneel on the floor to pray because it was “holier” than praying on the chair. He wanted to see if I would obey in a little thing. And I did.
I don’t always obey in the little things. In fact, the next week when my worship leader/sound guy hubby had a week off from heading to church early to serve, I knew God was asking me to get on my knees again.
I was reading the same devotional in the same chair, and I just couldn’t do it.
Now, Corey is one of the most incredible humble and God-fearing men you will ever meet, but I couldn’t get on my knees on the hardwood because I didn’t want him to think I was a weirdo. It’s one thing for your kids to thing you are a weirdo. It’s entirely different when it’s your husband.
So that day I failed, and I will fail again and again and again. In the little things and the big things. But you know what’s great about our God? His mercies are new every morning. Every single day for the rest of my life I have the opportunity to choose obedience. Past failures do not negate the opportunities for future obedience.
I think of that when I look at 500 Dresses and what God has allowed me to be a part of. I don’t like to sew. He knew that when he asked me to do this. But you know what? What keeps being pounded into my head is that obedience has a little to do with the act itself and a lot to do with believing that God is smarter than me.
Though there are a few simple dress patterns that I have gotten pretty good at making, sewing is still not something I do for fun. But because I started sewing, I now have this fun opportunity to organize the gifts and service of others. To get their donations from here to there and be a liaison between Iowa and Haiti, and now Iowa and Uganda. I’ve met incredible people both in person and online. I’ve had the opportunity to spend time in Haiti, and I have found a home for many beautiful formal dresses that have just been taking up space in American closets.
So if God is asking you to do something uncomfortable and weird, don’t be afraid to try it. Maybe it’s just his way of asking, “Do you trust me?”
I have a feeling we would all benefit from taking the risk of obedience a little more often and just getting on our knees on the hardwood floor.