The Day I Lost Permission to Say No

July 24, 2014. I was out for a run.

The Holy Spirit said, You're gonna quit smoking today.

And I said, "No. I don't think I will."

He said, Yes, you will.

Now understand, I wasn't being rebellious. I was being reasonable. So I started making my case, the way you do when you've got a good one. I said, "I love You, Lord. And You know I've been drinking a lot less than I used to. You know I haven't looked at pornography in a very long time. I've given You a lot of ground. But let's just leave smoking alone."

I love You, Lord — but the answer is no.

That's when He showed me a vision.

I saw a mountain. And on that mountain was a life. My life, the one He had in mind for me — influence, favor, multitudes of souls won for Christ, prosperity, blessing on top of blessing. It was big. It was so much bigger than anything I'd have had the nerve to ask Him for.

That was plan A.

Then I saw a Y in the road. And the second branch of that Y didn't go up the mountain. It went out to the flatlands. A small life. A puny life. Christian, technically. Barely.

And the Lord said, I had big things for you, Steve. Big things.

Then I saw something like a switch on a train track get thrown. And I felt myself start to turn. Away from the mountain. Out toward the flat country.

I went down on my knees right there and I hollered at God like a man watching his truck roll into a lake.

"I changed my mind. I changed my mind. Just hold on — don't do anything rash. Can we back up for a second? Can we just talk about this again? I've changed my mind. I will never smoke another day of my life, and You can ask me for anything, anything, and I'll do it. But can we please just stick with plan A?"

I've thought about that morning for twelve years now, and here's what I've come to.

I didn't have a hearing problem. I heard Him perfectly. Twice.

What I had was a wanting problem.

And I think that's most of us. Most people who tell me they can't hear from God heard Him just fine. They didn't care for what He said, so they filed it under "still seeking clarity" and went on about their business.

We've got beautiful language for it. We say we're waiting on confirmation. We say we're praying about it. Brother, I have prayed about things for two solid years that God answered in about four seconds. I wasn't praying. I was stalling. God knows the difference and so do you.

Watch how it actually goes. He says a thing. You don't move. He says it again, firmer this time. And now you start negotiating — Lord, what if I did this other thing instead, it's nearly the same, and honestly it might be harder. That's not a prayer. That's a man haggling at an auction.

I brought God a list. Look at all this ground I've already given You. As though obedience were a punch card and I'd earned a free one.

He didn't argue with my list. He just showed me what it was costing.

Cease striving and know that I am God. — Psalm 46:10

Not be still. Cease striving. Quit working the angles. Quit trying to arrange an outcome you can live with before you'll say yes. Most of what we call listening for God is a man running numbers, hoping God comes back with a version he likes better.

My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me. — John 10:27

He didn't say might hear. He didn't say the pastors hear. If you belong to Him, hearing is never the miracle. Following is.

And here's the part that'll cost you something. You can be in Christ without much of Christ being in you. Those men in Acts were already believers — already saved, already in — and they still got filled again, and it changed what they could hear. Being a Christian gets you in the door. It doesn't automatically get you full. So if God seems quiet to you, the question isn't whether He's talking. It's how much room He's got in you to talk into.

That morning on the road, God wasn't after my cigarettes.

He was teaching me that I didn't have permission to say no to Him anymore. Not about smoking. Not about anything. That the word "no" had come off the table for good, and everything downstream of that morning — every open door, every soul, every big thing that has happened since — was sitting on the other side of one three-letter word I very nearly refused to say. “YES.”

So quit asking God to speak. He already did.

Go do the last thing He told you. That will get you pointed at the mountain.