What Obedience Looks Like at Home

It’s hard to feel close to Jesus when you’re covered in mud. How could the most precious and sacred blessings, marriage and motherhood, also be the most difficult parts of life? It’s a bit like how salvation, the greatest gift of all, is wrapped in the most suffering we’ll ever face on this side of eternity.

Life can be fleeting, confusing, overwhelming, and even deceptive. Things aren’t always what they seem. Sometimes the greatest blow becomes the greatest blessing. After all, the one who will be exalted must first become a servant of all.

I always knew I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. But I’ll admit, it’s much harder than I imagined. For as long as I had that dream, I also imagined owning a storefront one day. (We’ll come back to that.)

It’s hard to feel important when you’re working behind closed doors on a task you’ll repeat for the rest of your life. No one cheers when you fold the laundry. No one applauds when your child walks across the stage. And yet, I’d like to think I’ll have a few more diamonds in the crown I’ll one day throw at my Savior’s feet.

Some people think I must be a saint. After all, how else could someone spend 24 hours a day with their children? Others think I must be lazy, because after all, I “only” spend 24 hours at home with my children. No one warned me about the emotional toll of being an introverted stay-at-home mother. I thrive in solitude, with quiet moments to process my thoughts. But now, I feel guilty for wanting even a few minutes to myself, or an uninterrupted bathroom break.

One moment you’re doing what’s best for your children, and the next you’re realizing what’s best for your intuitive self is sometimes just peace and quiet… and a second alarm. The tension between both can feel like failure when it’s not.

Motherhood is a mirror. You spend years learning to forgive and love yourself, and then you birth a child just like you, stirring up all those old emotions again. Many nights, I prayed for my son to sleep through the night, only for his sleep to get worse. I prayed for my husband to get a promotion and imagined the peace that would come with it. Then he told me he was planning to step down into a role that paid 50% less. It was here that I learned a vital lesson: everything I have is borrowed ( Psalm 24:1) . I must treat it like a precious gift from a friend.

I thought I was in the worst year of my life. It wasn’t until the next season that I saw how God had miraculously provided, yet I couldn’t enjoy it while I was in it. I sometimes look back and wish I could relive those days, not because they were easy, but because they were full of purpose. Life moves in seasons and cycles. And whatever stage you’re in, be content. Because better and worse will both come (Philippians 4:11).

Like kneading dough, the layers and the folding make for a better rise. We don’t always get to choose how long we’re kneaded, how many times we’re stretched, or what temperature the oven is set to. But we do get to trust the Baker. That His recipe is right, even when it burns, even when it breaks us open.

It took me years to understand that I am not less important because I’m not on a mission trip overseas. Washing dishes, folding clothes, changing diapers, cleaning up spills, these aren’t just acts of service. These are Yah’s (abbreviation of Yahweh) love language. “And whatever you do… do it all in the name of the Lord” (Colossians 3:17). And maybe no one sees it, but the unseen moments matter most. They are the evidence of a life laid down, a life aligned with heaven’s rhythm.

And when it gets to be too much, when I feel my steam and patience slipping, I’ve learned to look for the exit (1 Corinthians 10:13). Sometimes a whispered “help me” is enough. And He hears. He sends supernatural strength when you’re falling apart and can’t muster one more ounce of effort. That is what faith requires of you.

If it made sense, if you had every answer and could see the entire picture, would it really be faith? How could you know your faith is strong if it never did any heavy lifting?

This is what obedience requires: an imperfect walk in an imperfect body, stretching and bending until you are molded into something greater.

The things we love most require time in the dark, in the silence. A seed needs time in the soil, hidden from view, before it reveals its full glory. A butterfly needs solitude to grow in its cocoon. A baby must remain in the womb, where only the Father sees, until it can mature enough to survive outside. And you? You must stay in the refining process until you are fully perfected into His masterpiece.

There are days I want to run ahead, to rush the process, but I’ve seen what happens when I move faster than grace. And now, I’m learning to stay patient, to stay obedient, to let Him finish the work without interruption.

Every now and then, I still dream about that storefront, but I’m learning to be at peace, knowing that what God has me tending to right now is not just enough, it’s better than what I would’ve chosen for myself.

You can’t appreciate what you have unless you’ve known what it’s like to not have it. You can’t make an informed choice unless you understand both sides of the equation. That’s

the gift of obedience. Yah doesn’t withhold things to punish us; He does it because He knows what’s best. He’s simply asking us to trust Him.

And when I can be honest enough to say, “I don’t fully trust” (Mark 9:24: “Help my unbelief”), I can also look back and say, “I was wrong before.”

I’ve seen it with hindsight, the times I couldn’t see the forest for the trees. The times I chose my own way, blamed Him, questioned Him… only to later realize that what He had for me was better than anything I could’ve dreamed for myself.

I now understand that His ways are mysterious, but they are proven (Isaiah 55:8-9).

If I don’t have what He showed me yet, it’s likely because I’m not yet mature enough to carry it. If He gave it now, I might squander it—just as Adam and Eve squandered the greatest gift in Eden.

But if He thinks so highly of me that He would assign me this daily ministry, this stay-at-home mission that presses and stretches me, it must be because my transformation will be just as significant.

So I choose to put my faith in Him when it’s scary. When it’s tough. When it feels impossible.

Because in our weakness, He is made strong.

Even when I don’t have everything I want, when I want it, or how I wanted it… I know He will provide.

Obedience means giving Him the space to show what’s possible.

And if you need convincing, just remember this: He wrote the manual. He knows exactly what He’s doing. And even if I don’t always understand, I choose to keep walking, because obedience always leads home.