HOW DID I GET HERE AND WHAT DO I DO NOW?
Day 3
"If we say, 'We'll go into the city'—the famine is there, and we will die. And if we stay here, we will die. So let's go over to the camp of the Arameans and surrender. If they spare us, we live; if they kill us, then we die." - 2 Kings 7:4
We know God is calling us to move, but every reason to stay still feels more convincing.
Have you ever found yourself there?
We sense God prompting us toward something, toward forgiveness, toward generosity, toward serving, toward sharing your faith, toward trusting Him with a difficult situation, but immediately our mind fills with reasons why now is not the right time.
"What if it doesn't work?"
"What if I fail?"
"What if nothing changes?"
"What if I look foolish?"
"What if I get hurt again?"
"What if God doesn't come through the way I hope He will?"
The tension between what God is calling us to do and what our flesh wants to do is one of the greatest battles of the Christian life.
We often imagine that people of great faith simply don't struggle with fear. We picture biblical heroes moving confidently through life without hesitation or uncertainty. But Scripture tells a different story.
The people God used most were often people who had to obey while wrestling with questions, doubts, fears, and unknowns.
The four lepers certainly did.
Notice the conversation they have among themselves.
They begin evaluating their options.
"If we go into the city, we'll die."
The city represented what was familiar.
It was the obvious choice.
It was where everyone else was.
Yet the famine had already consumed the city. There was no life waiting for them there.
Then they say:
"If we stay here, we'll die."
The place they currently occupied wasn't helping either.
It felt safe because it was familiar, but it wasn't producing life.
Finally, they consider the least attractive option.
"Let's go to the camp of the Arameans."
The enemy's camp.
The place of uncertainty.
The place where they had no guarantees.
The place where everything could go wrong.
Yet that was the direction they chose.
Why?
Because they finally realized that comfort was no longer an option.
Sometimes God allows us to reach places where staying still becomes more painful than moving forward.
Many of us have experienced that tension.
We know a conversation needs to happen.
We know a habit needs to break.
We know a relationship needs healing.
We know God is asking us to trust Him.
Yet instead of moving, we remain frozen.
Not because we don't believe.
Not because we don't love God.
But because obedience feels risky.
The flesh loves certainty.
The flesh wants guarantees.
The flesh wants to know the outcome before taking the step.
Faith operates differently.
Faith trusts God before the outcome is visible.
The writer of Hebrews tells us:
"Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see." (Hebrews 11:1)
Notice what faith is not.
Faith is not having all the answers.
Faith is not understanding every detail.
Faith is not knowing exactly how God will work.
Faith is trusting God's character when you cannot see His plan.
That sounds simple until you're the one standing at the gate.
When Abraham left his homeland, he didn't know where he was going.
When Noah built the ark, he had never seen rain.
When Moses confronted Pharaoh, he felt completely inadequate.
When Joshua approached Jericho, the battle plan made no sense.
When Peter stepped out of the boat, the storm was still raging.
When Jesus went to the cross, His followers thought everything had been lost.
Again and again throughout Scripture, God calls people to obey before they understand.
Why?
Because obedience develops trust.
If we could see the entire journey, faith would not be required.
If we always knew the outcome, dependence on God would become unnecessary.
The tension we feel is often the very environment where God grows our faith.
Think about what these lepers did not know.
They did not know God had already gone before them.
They did not know the Lord had caused the Aramean army to hear the sound of chariots and horses.
They did not know the enemy camp was already empty.
They did not know provision was waiting for them.
They did not know their simple act of obedience would become the means through which an entire city would be saved.
They knew none of that.
They simply took a step.
And isn't that often how God works?
While we're busy worrying about what might happen, God is already working on things we cannot see.
While we're analyzing every possible outcome, God is preparing provision.
While we're fighting fear, God is arranging circumstances.
While we're questioning whether we should move, God is already moving.
The lepers could not see what God was doing behind the scenes.
Neither can we.
But just because we cannot see it does not mean He isn't working.
One of the enemy's favorite tactics is convincing believers that obedience is too costly.
He exaggerates what we might lose.
He minimizes what God wants to do.
He fills our minds with worst-case scenarios.
The lepers could have sat there discussing every possible negative outcome.
They could have spent the entire night debating.
They could have formed a committee.
They could have analyzed probabilities.
They could have waited for a better opportunity.
Instead, they acted.
How many blessings have we missed because we delayed obedience?
How many prayers remain unanswered because we never moved?
How many opportunities has God placed before us that we allowed fear to steal?
Some of the greatest regrets people carry are not the mistakes they made.
They are the steps they never took.
The conversation they never had.
The ministry they never joined.
The person they never invited.
The dream they never pursued.
The act of obedience they never embraced.
Fear says, "Wait until you're ready."
Faith says, "Trust God now."
Fear says, "What if you fail?"
Faith says, "What if God is already making a way?"
Fear says, "You don't have enough."
Faith says, "God is enough."
Fear says, "Stay where you are."
Faith says, "Follow Me."
The reality is that obedience will almost always feel difficult because obedience requires surrender.
It requires surrendering control.
Surrendering pride.
Surrendering comfort.
Surrendering the illusion that we can secure our own future.
And that is exactly why our flesh resists it.
Our flesh wants independence.
God desires dependence.
Our flesh wants control.
God calls for trust.
Our flesh seeks safety.
God invites faith.
Jesus Himself modeled this perfectly.
In the Garden of Gethsemane, facing the agony of the cross, He prayed:
"Not my will, but Yours be done."
That is the heart of obedience.
Not understanding everything.
Not enjoying every circumstance.
Not eliminating every fear.
Simply saying yes to God.
Perhaps today you know exactly what God has been asking you to do.
Maybe you've known for weeks.
Maybe you've known for months.
Maybe you've known for years.
The tension you feel isn't necessarily a sign that you're on the wrong path.
It may be evidence that you're standing on the threshold of obedience.
The four lepers teach us a powerful lesson:
Faith is not the absence of fear.
Faith is moving forward while fear is still present.
They didn't wait until they felt brave.
They moved anyway.
And on the other side of that obedience, they discovered something they never could have imagined.
The same God who prepared provision for four lepers is still working ahead of His people today.
We may not know what awaits us on the other side of obedience.
But we can know this:
God is already there.
Take the step.
Trust His character.
Follow His leading.
And leave the outcome in His hands.
