An Ongoing Choice

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“Obedience is better than sacrifice.”

I cannot say for certain how many times I quoted this portion of 1 Samuel 15:22 to my kids and their friends when they were growing up. But whatever the number, it was enough for one of his childhood friends to send her mother and me a picture of a church sign she had seen this week, in her travels as a nurse: “Obedience is greater than sacrifice.”

I instantly laughed because that verse, in one form or another, was so common in our home that our youngest son often tried to diffuse potentially tough conversations with sarcasm. Grinning widely, he placed his hands on his hips, pointed his finger at us, shook his head, and changed his voice to imitate me as he said saucily, “Obedience is better than sacrifice.”

I was usually not deterred from my scriptural soapbox by his antics. I must confess that now and then I could not help it; I laughed along with anyone else in the room. But the determined mother in me always managed to reiterate that even in jest, those powerful biblical words were and always would be true.

Evidently, that biblical truth was powerful if a grown woman still recalls my sermons on behavior (and Chris’s antics) from 25 years ago. In my defense, I was just determined that my young sons and their friends would know that it would always be a lifelong choice on whether to honor or dishonor God with their obedience.

Later on, when both boys became young men, I saw those efforts bear good fruit. It was amazing to hear obedience and sacrifice play an integral role in their deep discussions with me (and others) about the consequences of life choices they had made, both good and bad. Those conversations made me smile and praise God for the everlasting truth of His Word.

But the prideful joy of those moments quickly faded when the truth of those same five words came out of the mouth of my adult son, convicting me more than I could ever describe. In that moment, the teacher instantly became the student.

In fact, that moment of conviction will forever remind me of the wise words of C.S Lewis in Mere Christianity: “The real job of every moral teacher is to keep on bringing us back, time after time, to the old simple principles which we are all so anxious not to see; like bringing a horse back and back to the fence it has refused to jump.”

For this old momma horse, the choice of jumping or refusing to jump the fence took place in a hospital when our son Chris was slated to take a new and controversial treatment. As his mother, I balked. I walked right up to that fence line and refused to jump – or even move.

Right there at that fence line, Chris reminded me that God had given him a Christ-filled cancer specialist who had prayed over him and loved him like a brother in Christ, a man who had previously saved his life. With loving respect and honor, my grown son explained that he was following his doctor’s orders, just as he always had obeyed them.

And then, with absolute humility and Spirit-filled conviction in his voice, the little boy who had imitated me so many times before gently said, “Momma, obedience is better than sacrifice. That’s what you taught me, and I am standing on that truth.”

So, what was a rightfully rebuked momma supposed to do?

I obediently jumped over the proverbial fence, of course.

Let me say, though, that on this side of the fence, the ride has not always been free of bumps or mishaps. I have fallen off my horse on more than one occasion, doubting the wisdom of my son’s choice on that day long ago.

But whenever the questions, the what-ifs, and the should-haves flood my mind, my heart responds – sometimes with rock-solid assurance and other times with shaking, tear-filled hope, “Obedience is better than sacrifice.”

Maybe that is the real truth of this verse: obediently declaring it even when our faith has not yet been made sight. Better yet, perhaps that moment of sacrificial worship – when we choose to believe Him and praise Him, despite our unanswered, doubt-wracked questions of grief – is the ultimate moment of obedience.

I love how Christian blogger and therapist, Kelli Bachara, describes that unprecedented worship opportunity:

“I don’t want to pretend the storms don’t hurt.

But while I’m here, I don’t want to miss what is possible inside of them either.

I want to know what it is to worship a God I cannot see. To trust Him when I don’t understand. To reach for Him when my heart is broken. To call Him good before I know how the story ends. To love Him before I have ever seen His face.

Because I will have all of eternity to worship God in the light.

But I only have this life to worship Him in the storm.”

She’s right; the choice is ours.

We can balk and remain on this side of life’s storm-ridden fence in fear, doubt, grief, insecurity, and unbelief. Or … we can take that final leap of faith and place our unanswered questions, like seeds of faith, in the nail-scarred hands of a trustworthy God. For by faith, we can trust that one day, He will turn our obedient, sacrificial worship into shouts of joy.

Those who plant in tears
will harvest with shouts of joy.
They weep as they go to plant their seed,
but they sing as they return with the harvest (Psalm 126:5-6, NLT).

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