The request seemed simple enough.

A friend asked if I wanted to go to a baseball game. It was a Major League game, complete with stadium lights, cheering fans, overpriced hot dogs, and everything that makes a summer evening at the ballpark so enjoyable. Under different circumstances, I would have been excited to go.

The problem wasn't the baseball game itself.

The problem was that I already knew what I was supposed to do.

After an incredibly busy week at work, I had promised the Lord that I would do a better job of listening to the prompting of the Holy Spirit. In my last post, I wrote about learning to embrace God's rhythm instead of constantly pushing myself beyond my limits. As much as I wanted to spend time with my friend, I also knew I needed rest. Deep down, I sensed the Holy Spirit gently nudging me to decline the invitation. It wasn't an audible voice or some dramatic experience. It was simply that quiet conviction that I have come to recognize over the years when God is trying to redirect me.

But I didn't want to disappoint my friend.

So I said yes.

At first glance, it seems like such a small decision. It's only a baseball game. Surely that couldn't matter very much. But by the time we arrived, I was already feeling the weight of an exhausting week. I tried to enjoy myself, but it was a struggle.  I could barely stay awake. Yes, it would have been fun to spend time together and watch the game. But, I was simply too tired to enjoy it.

Then the game went into extra innings.

What was already going to be a late evening became even later, and by the time I finally pulled into my driveway, it was nearly one o'clock in the morning. I remember crawling into bed knowing I had another full day waiting for me in just a few hours.

As the week went on, I found myself dragging through each day, trying to recover from one late night that never should have happened. More than once, I caught myself thinking, I wish I had listened.

It wasn't that God didn't want me to enjoy a baseball game.  It was that He knew what I needed better than I did.  The more I reflected on it, the more I realized this wasn't really about baseball at all. It was about obedience. 

Why is it that we sometimes work so hard to avoid disappointing other people while thinking so little about disappointing God? Why does someone else's approval sometimes carry more weight than the prompting of the Holy Spirit?

Paul addressed this very issue when he wrote:

For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ. — Galatians 1:10

That verse has been echoing in my mind ever since.

The boundaries God gives us aren't meant to keep us from enjoying life. They are acts of love. They protect our hearts, our minds, our bodies, and our relationship with Him. His "no" is rarely about keeping something good from us. More often, it is about lovingly leading us toward something better.

The more I grow in my faith, the more I realize that obedience isn't just about avoiding obvious sin. Sometimes it is simply trusting that God knows what is best for me, even in something as ordinary as whether I should spend an evening at a baseball game. 

Why Does God Tell Us No?

It's not because He wants to keep us from enjoying life or because He expects us to become little robots who do the same thing every day. Quite the opposite. The boundaries God gives us are ultimately about our joy, our protection, and our flourishing.  Not our punishment.

There have been countless times in my life when God has gently placed a boundary in front of me that I didn't fully understand. Sometimes I ignored it, convinced that my way would be fine. Without fail, those decisions eventually led to exhaustion, unnecessary stress, temptation, or simply becoming someone I didn't want to become.

On the other hand, every time I have trusted God enough to respect a boundary that didn't make sense to me at the time, I have watched Him bless that obedience in ways I never expected. In fact, it almost seems as though the sweetest blessings come when we choose to obey before we fully understand why.

Think about Noah.

Many theologians believe it is possible that rain had never fallen on the earth before the flood. Whether that understanding is correct or not, one thing is certain: when God told Noah to build an ark, it sounded completely unreasonable to everyone around him. Day after day, Noah continued building while people  questioned his sanity. Yet God didn't simply tell him to build a boat. He gave him exact instructions, right down to its dimensions and construction.

Noah could have decided he knew a better way. He could have shortened it, widened it, or skipped parts that didn't make sense to him. Instead, Scripture simply tells us that he obeyed.

The Bible doesn't record every conversation, every difficult day, or every obstacle Noah faced while building the ark. But I imagine God's faithful hand helping him through each challenge. After all, building something that enormous wasn't exactly an everyday project. I know from experience that I struggle to assemble a piece of furniture correctly even when I have the instructions sitting right in front of me.  Noah needed help, I'm sure.

Or consider the Sabbath.

When God gave Israel the Sabbath, He wasn't creating another burdensome rule for His people. As Jesus later explained:

Then he said to them, 'The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath. So the Son of Man is Lord even of the Sabbath.' — Mark 2:27–28 

The gift of rest wasn't something God needed from His people. It was something His people desperately needed from Him.  I think we're living in a culture that needs to understand this more than we realize.

We are exhausted.

Physically.

Emotionally.

Spiritually.

We have become so accustomed to constant movement that true rest almost feels uncomfortable. Yet biblical rest is about far more than taking a nap or sleeping in on Saturday morning. True rest is making space to be with the One who created us. It is stepping away from the noise long enough to remember who God is and who we are in Him.

God lovingly leads us because He knows us better than we know ourselves. He sees what we cannot see. He knows where our choices will lead long before we ever arrive there.

Whether it's a life-changing decision about a career, a relationship, a ministry opportunity, or something as ordinary as deciding whether to attend a baseball game, His guidance matters.  Whether God was giving instruction in the scriptures to build an ark or recognize the sabbath, it was about protecting His people.  

Obedience isn't about surrendering freedom.  It's about entrusting our lives to the One who knows exactly what is best for us.

The Small Decisions Become the Big Ones

We often assume obedience in life is about about life's biggest decisions.

Who should I marry?

Should I take this job?

Is this where God wants me to live?

Those are certainly the kinds of decisions we should bring before the Lord. They have the potential to shape the course of our lives, and it only makes sense that we would seek His wisdom before taking such significant steps.

But, God is just as interested in the small decisions as He is in the big ones.  In fact, the small decisions are where He does some of His greatest work.

Most of our lives aren't made up of monumental crossroads. They're made up of ordinary Tuesday afternoons, quiet evenings at home, conversations with friends, interruptions we didn't expect, and countless choices that seem insignificant in the moment. Yet those ordinary moments become the place where God teaches us what it means to trust Him.

Sometimes obedience looks like saying no to one more commitment because you know your body and your spirit need rest. Sometimes it means turning off your phone instead of scrolling for another hour. Sometimes it means going to bed because you know the Lord has been reminding you that you're exhausted.

Other times, obedience looks completely different. It means showing up for a friend even when you're tired because that's exactly what love requires in that moment. It means speaking gently when frustration would come much more naturally. It means extending patience when someone has tested it over and over again.

None of those moments will ever make the evening news. No one is likely to applaud them. Most people won't even notice them.  But God notices every single one, and He uses them.  

My mom has told me a story almost every year on my birthday for as long as I can remember. While she was pregnant with me, she talked to me constantly. Whether she was standing in the kitchen making dinner, folding laundry, or simply going about the ordinary routines of her day, she would tell me what she was doing. Long before I ever saw her face, I was listening to the sound of her voice.

After I was born, she said I immediately knew her voice. When she spoke, I would turn toward her because I already knew who she was.

I've always loved that story.

Isn't that's exactly what God is doing with us in these ordinary moments?

Day after day, He speaks through His Word. He prompts us through the Holy Spirit. He reminds us of His truth during quiet moments of prayer. He comforts us when we're hurting. He redirects us when we're about to wander. Little by little, He's teaching us to recognize His voice, not because He's trying to control our lives, but because He wants to walk through life with us.

The more time we spend with Him, the more familiar His voice becomes. Eventually, we begin to recognize the difference between our own desires and His loving direction. We start to discover that His guidance is never random and His boundaries are never arbitrary. They always flow from His love for us.

He knows when we need rest before we realize how exhausted we've become. He knows when we need courage before we recognize our fear. He knows when we need to step forward in faith, and He knows when we need to be still.

Most of all, He knows us.

God's desire has never been simply to manage my behavior or make me follow a list of rules. His desire is relationship. Every boundary He gives, every gentle prompting He whispers, every invitation to trust Him is another opportunity to know Him more deeply.

That's why the baseball game was never the real lesson.  The lesson was discovering that the God who lovingly guides the biggest decisions of my life also cares enough to guide the smallest ones.

And maybe that's what faith looks like.

Learning to recognize the voice of our Shepherd so well that, whether the decision is life-changing or as ordinary as attending a baseball game, we trust that His way will always lead us to something better than our own.