Today seems like one of those “most excellent” days to stay inside, huddle under a cover, read a good book, and enjoy a cuppa (or two) of tea. But alas … This morning, when I opened the door to let Tori out, even she, who usually likes cold weather and snow, stopped at the threshold and shot me that look. You know the one. The look that says, “You can’t possibly expect me to do that!” Her eyes said it all. “Surely there must be another way.” “Make it go away.” “This is all your fault.”
And as I stood there waiting for her to decide, pea brain and all, what she was going to do, I felt a whisper. See, I recognize that look. It’s startlingly similar to the “look” I give God on occasion (at least figuratively). It was as if I could hear God saying, “You do this to me, too.” Have you ever given God that look?
Jonah gave God that look the moment he heard God calling him to go to Nineveh. His words and actions are recorded in the Bible, but from them we can imagine the expression on his face: a mixture of disbelief, hesitation, and reluctance. “But Jonah ran away from the Lord…” (Jonah 1:3).
The prophet Elijah also knew what it was to stand at a doorway he didn’t want to cross. After an incredible victory at Mount Carmel, fear and exhaustion carried him into the wilderness, where he took refuge in a cave. When God asked him what he was doing, Elijah complained, “Lord, I’ve done everything you asked … and look what it cost me.” (1 Kings 19:9). I imagine Elijah giving God that same look: anger fueled by fear and disappointment.
In both cases, God didn’t desert them. God let them rest. And then God revealed himself … in a whisper. Both Jonah and Elijah discovered that God meets us in the threshold moment: when the cold looks uninviting and when our eyes speak a truth we’d rather not say out loud.
It’s our look. We give God “that look” more often than we admit. When forgiveness feels harder than staying angry. When generosity feels risky. When compassion feels inconvenient. When stepping into the unknown feels like stepping into a storm.
And yet, in response, God doesn’t abandon us. He simply stands at the door and waits for us to move. And, like Tori eventually did, we take that hesitant step into the cold. Not because the cold disappears, but because we trust the One who opened the door.
Prayer: Lord, thank you for meeting me in my hesitation and for loving me in my reluctance. Give me the courage to step out in faith, even when the path feels cold or unfamiliar. Continue to whisper to my heart and be patient with me. Help me trust that wherever you lead, you go with me. Amen.
