The Spirit and Obedience

A Testament of Devotion, Thomas R. Kelly, Holy Obedience

What is the nature of holy obedience? "There are plenty to follow our Lord half-way, but not the other half. They will give up possessions, friends, and honors, but it touches them too closely to disown themselves." (Meister Eckhart) It is just this astonishing life which is willing to follow Him the other half, sincerely to disown itself.

There is a degree of holy and complete obedience and of joyful self-renunciation and of sensistive listening that is breath-taking. Differences of degree passes over into utter difference of kind, when one tries to follow Him the second half.

In some, says William James, religion exists as a dull habit, in others as an acute fever. Religion as a dull habit is not that for which Christ lived and died.

Difference of degree and kind in obedience reveal themselves as readily as the difference between dull habit and acute fever. When I follow only "the first half," then difference of degree becomes paramount. I see others, weigh their actions against my own, and then judge them accordingly. Who has given more? Who has kept too much?

When I follow the "second half" of the way of Jesus, there is only one thing to give: myself. Degree no longer matters, only total surrender. When I give the second half, the first half follows accordingly. Where I put my heart, my treasures are already laid. It is remarkable that I can give so much up and not give myself.

How do I enter holy obedience? Let us dare to venture together into the inner sanctuary of the soul, where God meets man in awful immediacy. There is an indelicacy in too-ready speech. Paul felt it unlawful to speak of the things of the third heaven. But there is also a false reticence, as if these things were one's own possession, about which we should modestly keep quiet, whereas they are wholly God's amazing work and we are nothing, mere passive receivers.

Our interest just now is in the life of complete obedience to God, not in amazing revelations of His glory graciously granted only to some. Yet the amazing experiences of the mystics leave a permanent residue, a God-subdued, a God-possessed will. States of consciousness are fluctuating. The vision fades. But holy and listening and alert obedience remains, as the core and kernel of a God-intoxicated life, as the abiding pattern of sober, work-a-day living.

The first step to the obedience of the second half is the flaming vision of the wonder of such a life.

Once having the vision, the second step to holy obedience is this: Begin where you are. Obey now. . . .Every moment behind the scenes be in prayer, offering yourselves in continuous obedience. I find this internal continuous prayer life absolutely essential.

The third step. . . if you slip and stumble and forget God for an hour, . . . begin again, just where you are.

A fourth consideration in holy obedience is this: Don't grit your teeth and clench your fists and say, "I will! I will!" Relax. Take hands off. Submit yourself to God.

Once again I see vision. I must see a life I want to live. I must desire something beyond myself. It is hope.

Vision is not necessarily an ecstatic experience, but it must be compelling. If it is real, it leads to real life. Obedience is practiced in the body, in my society, not merely in my mind. If the vision is real, then the practice will be more a matter of giving in than of trying. I need to step aside more than step up to the plate.

What are the fruits of holy obedience? They are the passion for personal holiness and the sense of utter humility.

Humility rests upon the disclosure of the consummate wonder of God, upon finding that only God counts, that all our own self-originated intentions are works of straw.

Humility rests on holy blindness, like the blindedness of of him who looks steadily into the sun.

Growth in humility is a measure of our growth in the habit of the God-directed mind.

Self-renunciation means God-possession, the being possessed by God. Out of utter humility and self-forgetfulness comes the thunder of the prophets, "Thus saith the Lord."

Ironic that humility from obedience causes blindness to one's good deeds while self-righteousness from pride cause blindness to one's evil deeds.

Humility comes from a continued dependence on God, like a child dependent on a parent.

I have had just a little sense of this humility and self-forgetfulness that brings discernment without condemnation and a real sense of God's work in a place or a life. Because it is hard to remain dependent on God and hard to forget myself, such occurrences are still fairly sporadic. But they stir my heart greatly.

Ponder this paradox in religious experience: "Nothing matters; everything matters. . . ." It is a key of entrance into suffering. He who knows only one half of the paradox can never enter that door of mystery and survive.

The heart is stretched through suffering, and enlarged. But O the agony of this enlargening of the heart, that one may be prepared to enter into the anguish of others!

The Cross as dogma is painless speculation; the Cross as lived is anguish and glory. Yet God, out of the pattern of His own heart, has planted the Cross along the road of holy obedience. And He enacts in the hearts of those He loves the miracle of willingness to welcome suffering and to know it for what it is - the final seal of His gracious love.

Little "crosses" may lay the road for larger ones. What is inconvenient may help me face what is difficult and then prepare me for what is painful and finally help me to stand before what seems unendurable. The lie that often finds me is that I will really deal differently with real pain that I do with inconveniences. "When it really matters, I will stand." This does not stand in the Bible or in life examples.

The last fruit of holy obedience is the simplicity of the trusting child. . . . The mark of this simplified life is radiant joy.

There is a deeper, an internal simplification of the whole of one's personality, stilled, tranquil, in childlike trust listening ever to Eternity's whisper, walking with a smile into the dark.

Douglas Steere wisely says that true religion often appears to be the enemy of the moralist. For religion cuts across the fine distinctions between several virtues and gathers all virtues into the one supreme quality of love.

This simplicity sounds like an integrated soul, working harmoniously between the various parts of a person. This kind of soul attracts and repels people. The peace, joy, and love attract them, but the utter trust required frightens them. I can see why the moralist would be the enemy of such a simplicity, such an integrated soul: they do not trust God the bring rightness within; they think it must be jammed in from without.

These fruits show that the abundance of life and the obedience to God are inseparable, not because of a cause/effect relationship, but because they are, actually, the same thing. Obedience is abundance. I see this most plainly in simplicity which has the rigor of obedience, but the restfulness of abundance simultaneously.

Lord, may my vision of a life in obedience to you yield humility in my heart.  Amen.