I was fresh out college—6'4", 275 pounds, a football player with more muscle than discernment. My brother, friends, and I were fishing for the weekend. Enjoying each others company, the outdoors, and the quiet. Around 3 a.m. Sunday morning, a deputy sheriff waved his spotlight at us from the shore calling us in.
“Is one of you Billy?”
I stood. “Yes sir.”
“You need to go call your mom.”
No explanation. Just a command. I assumed it was an emergency, so I drove to the only open place I could find—a country barroom lounge. I asked to use the phone and explained the situation. After I hung up, I heard one of the customers say, “Yep, that monster of a man is that little boy Billy, whose momma called here to see if we’d seen him.”
They laughed. I burned with embarrassment. And pride.
When I got home, I asked Mom why she’d done it. Why did she embarrass me by calling bars. Why did she send the cops. I told her I was grown. I didn’t live with her anymore.
Why didn't she send someone looking for my brother instead?
She answered simply: “I called you because I knew you would answer.”
🌿 Obedience Rooted in Relationship
That moment cracked something open in me. Obedience isn’t about control—it’s about being known. My mother didn’t call because she doubted me. She called because she trusted me. She knew my heart. She knew I’d respond.
That’s how God calls us too.
In Deuteronomy, Moses asks: “What does the Lord require of you but to fear the Lord your God, to walk in all his ways, to love him, to serve the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul?” (Deut 10:12)
This isn’t a checklist—it’s a rhythm. A relationship. God doesn’t demand obedience to test us. He invites it because He knows us. He knows our voice. And He knows that in answering—especially when it feels inconvenient or humbling—we grow in freedom.
🕊️ The Ignatian Way: Listening Beneath the Surface
Ignatian spirituality invites us to listen—not just with our ears, but with our hearts. To notice where God is stirring, even in the ordinary or the awkward. To ask: “What is moving in me right now? Is this voice leading me toward deeper love, or away from it?”
Obedience, in this light, isn’t passive. It’s active discernment. It’s the freedom to say “yes” not out of fear, but out of love. It’s the grace to respond—not because we’re forced, but because we’re known.
Jesus lived this rhythm. He walked with his disciples through confusion, resistance, and surrender. He obeyed the Father—not blindly, but intimately. Even the temple tax became a moment of trust: a fish, a coin, provision in the mundane.
God’s invitations often come quietly. They may feel strange, slow, even humiliating. But they are always rooted in love. Always leading us deeper.
💫 Known and Called
God doesn’t call us because we’re flawless. He calls us because we’re His.
He knows our pride and our tenderness. Our resistance and our longing. He knows we’ll answer—not because we must, but because deep down, we desire to be found.
That’s the heart of Ignatian obedience: not submission, but surrender. Not performance, but presence. Not fear, but friendship.
🛤️ Walking the Path of Discernment
So what does this mean for our journey?
Obey, even when it feels beneath you.
Trust, even when it bruises your pride.
Answer, even when you think you’ve outgrown the call.
Because the One who calls you knows you. And He knows you’ll answer.
And in that answering, we discover not just direction—but intimacy. Not just duty—but delight.
🙏 A Prayer of Ignatian Trust
Lord,
You know me—better than I know myself.
You call me not to shame me, but to shape me.
Not because I’m perfect, but because I’m yours.
Teach me to listen beneath the noise.
To discern Your voice in the ordinary.
To answer, even when pride tempts me to ignore You.
Let my “yes” be rooted in love, not fear.
In freedom, not obligation.
In friendship, not performance.
Because You knew I would answer.
Amen.
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