Delayed Obedience Dulls the Soul

Most people don’t just wake up one morning and decide, “Today I will stop listening to God.” Spiritual deafness almost never happens in a day; it’s a slow fade. It looks more like a quiet nudge from the Lord—“Call that person.” “Turn this off.” “Make that right.” Deep down we know it’s His voice. We feel the tug, we recognize the tone—and we say, “Later.” Then later again. Then not at all. What once sounded clear begins to sound faint, and what was faint becomes almost forgotten. Scripture speaks right into that danger: “To day if ye will hear his voice, harden not your hearts” (Hebrews 3:7–8). Each time we say “not now” to a known prompting, a thin film settles over the heart—like dust on a window. One layer hardly shows. But as the layers build, the light isn’t shut out by one great act of rebellion, but by a thousand small postponements. At first we still hear, but we negotiate. Then we hear less, and we excuse. In time, the conscience grows dull, and what once pricked now passes without notice—“having th

Conscience isn’t an accident of personality; it’s the watchman God has stationed within—“their conscience also bearing witness” (Romans 2:15). When the Holy Spirit brings a verse to remembrance, conscience rings the bell. Prompt obedience keeps that bell sensitive; neglect makes it weak. And there are two inner “lawyers” that hurry in to muffle the sound. Rationalization whispers, Not now—later will be better. Self-justification insists, I had good reasons not to obey. They sound wise. They sound thoughtful. But they’re lies dressed up as prudence. God speaks with far more simplicity: “To him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin” (James 4:17). Delay quenches desire—“Quench not the Spirit” (1 Thessalonians 5:19). Delay slowly rewrites the story in our own mind until a clear command from God is remembered as optional counsel. Delay emboldens the flesh—“For the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh” (Galatians 5:17)—until what’s merely comfortable begins to ma

What do we do when we realize that dullness has started to creep in? When we look back over the last days or weeks and see more “later” than “yes, Lord”? Grace gives us a way back that’s simple enough to remember, but deep enough to change the heart—like spiritual ABC’s. First, we Accept what God is showing us. That means we stop arguing with conviction and let the light fall where it will. We accept His diagnosis of our condition: “For I know that in me (that is, in my flesh,) dwelleth no good thing” (Romans 7:18). We accept that He’s right about our delays, our excuses, our half-obedience. And just as importantly, we accept that He has not turned away from us in disgust. “A broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise” (Psalm 51:17). Acceptance is not self-loathing; it’s finally agreeing with the One who loves us enough to tell us the truth. “For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God;” Romans 3:23

Then we Believe. We believe that Jesus is not only willing but able to change what we cannot. We believe that He “is able also to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him” (Hebrews 7:25). We believe that “it is God which worketh in you both to will and to do of his good pleasure” (Philippians 2:13). That means He can work not only in our outward choices, but in our inward “want-to.” He can awaken fresh desire where there has been only reluctance, and a ready obedience where there has been dragging feet. This kind of believing is more than saying, “Yes, He forgave me many years ago.” It’s trusting that, in the very place you feel most stuck or stubborn right now, Christ is ready to work if you’ll let Him. Faith takes its eyes off our spotted record and fastens them on His spotless character.

From there, we Confess. Confession is where accepting and believing turn into words and surrender. “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us” (1 John 1:9). We stop hiding behind vague language and name things as the Spirit brings them to mind: the delayed apology, the cherished habit, the neglected duty, the inward no that we never said out loud. We confess our “laters” as disobedience, not merely busyness. Sometimes that confession is between the soul and God alone. Sometimes He gently presses us to confess to someone we have wronged or to make restitution where we can (Matthew 5:23–24). Confession doesn’t earn forgiveness; it opens the door to receive what Christ has already purchased. It unclogs the channel so grace can flow freely again and the heart can breathe.

When we begin to Accept, Believe, and Confess in this way, obedience slowly shifts from a grim duty into a willing, even grateful, response. And very often, it starts in small things. Jesus said, “He that is faithful in that which is least is faithful also in much” (Luke 16:10). When a verse flashes across the mind, or a quiet impression presses on your heart, try, by God’s grace, to take a step within minutes if possible. Send the message you’ve been postponing. Close the tab that’s numbing the soul. Set the phone down and open the Bible. Step outside for a few minutes and pray instead of scrolling. Tiny yeses, offered promptly, keep the spiritual ear tender.

The Lord promises, “I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go: I will guide thee with mine eye” (Psalm 32:8). Eye-guidance only works when you’re close enough to see His face. That nearness grows where His Word abides. Even a few verses, hidden in the heart, give the Holy Spirit vocabulary to speak with. “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path” (Psalm 119:105). Jesus said the Comforter “shall bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said unto you” (John 14:26). When Scripture is stored in the memory, the Spirit can bring it back in the very moment it’s needed, so guidance comes not as a vague feeling, but as a living word.

Sometimes the line is not only dull, but noisy. We live with a constant hum of voices, images, sounds. Quieting the stream—less endless media, a little more quiet space with God—doesn’t make life less real; it makes His whisper easier to hear. It can help, in the evening, to gently look back over the day and ask, Where did I sense a nudge from the Lord today? Did I lean in, or lean away? Hebrews speaks of those “who by reason of use have their senses exercised to discern both good and evil” (Hebrews 5:14). Each time we respond quickly, our spiritual hearing grows sharper. Each time we delay, it grows just a bit duller—unless we bring that delay back through the ABC’s and let Jesus wash it away.

There’s a quiet, helpful distinction in Scripture that sheds more light on this whole process: the difference between grieving and quenching the Holy Spirit. To grieve Him is to wound Love—to sin against light we already have. “Grieve not the holy Spirit of God, whereby ye are sealed unto the day of redemption” (Ephesians 4:30). When we knowingly cling to what nailed Jesus to the cross, the Spirit is grieved. To quench Him is to smother the Fire—“Quench not the Spirit” (1 Thessalonians 5:19). It’s what happens when we keep saying “not now” to the next step of light He’s pointing out, until the flame of conviction burns lower and lower. Many of us, if we’re honest, have done both. The mercy is that the same ABC’s meet both needs. When we Accept what He is showing us, the heart that has grieved Him begins to soften again. When we Believe that Christ’s blood and power are enough even for repeated delays, the heart steadies instead of sinking into despair. When we Confess specifically where we have resisted, it’

If your heart feels a little dull today, that feeling itself isn’t the end of the story; in a strange way, it’s hopeful. A dead conscience does not worry about dullness. Only a heart God is still calling feels the ache of, “I am not as responsive as I once was.” You don’t have to untangle the whole future to respond to Him. You can say “yes” to the next clear step. You can whisper, “Lord, tenderize my conscience again. Make me quick to hear and quick to obey.” He hears such prayers. David, who knew what it was to harden his heart and then be broken over it, cried, “Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation; and uphold me with thy free spirit” (Psalm 51:12). God doesn’t merely patch up the old and send us limping back out. He promises, “A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you” (Ezekiel 36:26). Even to the lukewarm, the ones who make Him sick in the language of Laodicea, Jesus says, “Behold, I stand at the door, and knock” (Revelation 3:20). The very One we have kept waiting is still on the porch, still knocking.

If this Fireside Chat warmed your spirit and sparked fresh resolve to live what you believe, fan that flame with Scripture—“Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly” (Colossians 3:16). Pull a little closer to the Light, and carry it into the week ahead.

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