A Million Yeses

“I’m coming to pick you up!” I jump, popping off the couch and kissing my husband goodbye as I spring for the back door. Reaching for my keys and yelling over my shoulder, “My friend needs me. I’ll be back soon! Love you!” Next thing you know I’m pulling in your driveway and giving two quick warning knocks before opening the door for myself in a swing, “HI!” Echoing as an alarm to let you know I’m here (in case you didn’t hear the first), the clicking of my brown leather low-cut boots bouncing off the walls as I come into your bedroom and pull the covers down to expose your gray matching sweatsuit in one fell swoop, the mother in me surfacing as I announce that you aren’t shaking me out of here. We are doing this thing. Time to pull you out of that rut. .…… Commitment is so hard– am I right? As if the act of actually sitting down with the flint and the brush to work for that first flame doesn’t take effort in itself, let alone a newfound, earth-groveling boldness to step out and resilient courage to stop walking behind the big red curtain. But the Lord is calling us out, friend. He’s standing on the side, holding that rope, ready for the great curtain divide … ready for a new level of faith, obedience, and friendship with the Creator of it all. But it’s going to take one brave yes and a million yeses after. It’s going to take letting the curtains rise and standing in a place of being seen. It’s going to take remaining under that spotlight even when your hands are clammy and you can feel the sweat beneath your shirt. A million yeses, friend. Over the month of December in 2021, I had begun the process of taking author Hannah Brencher’s writing intensive. In one of the most transforming sessions, we were instructed to write what she referred to as ‘tentpole’ moments on index cards, one card for each moment within the last five years. Tentpole moments are the catastrophic yeses that change our direction. The tunnels we might rather avoid but that are necessary to get to our promised land. Our walk is littered with yeses everyday. We say yes to which shoes to wear, yes to what to eat for lunch, yes to our spouses, and yes to coffee dates. Most are very mundane. But sometimes when we look back in reflection, some of those yeses carried more weight than we gave them credit for. Some of our yeses brought shape to our story. Some yeses are so powerful that our life map is caught up in flames and we’re brought back into the intimate whisper of the Holy Spirit as our guide, drawing our map from scratch. Those weighty yeses are what I’ll now refer to as ‘tentpole’ yeses. They drive a stake in the ground. They change our perception of our paths and sometimes our perception of God. The reality about commitment is that it’s persistent in its initial yes. Like an engagement ring marking its territory, we say “yes, Lord,” and every decision afterward is shaped by that first confident (or maybe not so confident) tentpole yes. In these days of Christianity, we are more comfortable living like following Christ is not a game changer. But what if we stopped living like it was water and oil and started living like it was food coloring, tinting every single part of the whole? What if we stopped building walls around our yes to Christ and started allowing Him to permeate every area He pleased? Will you walk with me, friend? Can I help you find your matching sock and we can tie our shoes and get out of here? I’ll drive, but you’re not completely off the hook. As much as I wish I could take this hard, weighty chore, plop it on my back, and carry it for you every day, I can’t. Committing to those dreamy dreams He’s given you takes staying awake on the ride and calling out the directions as the GPS guides. It takes being intentional on intentional on intentional, even when your limbs are tired and heavy and the recliner is calling. And you know the fun thing about the Lord? When we surrender to Him, He aligns our passions with His dreams for us. So that far off thing that you’ve been ashamed to say out loud because you kind of sound like you’re living with your head in the clouds? Maybe it’s more tangible than your self talk wants to admit. Maybe you’ve just been listening to the wrong voice.