A friend and I agreed to have a virtual prayer meeting on a recurring basis. I suggested we meet biweekly, so it would be sustainable. I’d had my fair share of prayer meetings that lose momentum over time. I wanted to play it safe.
I was moving to a new place around that time, and so it was not convenient to make our next meeting. Weeks later, after I settled in, I sent her a message the day we planned to meet, just a few hours ahead: “Hey, are you free today?” She did not see it in time. The meeting did not hold, and I felt exonerated. I had reached out. She eventually responded saying it wasn’t a good day for her. I said “No worries, next week.” And thus began a cycle of last minute scheduling and missed meetings. I’d continue on my Saturday morning walk, contented and free.
Around the same time, she also moved to a new place. Another legitimate reason not to plan to meet—we indulged it. Missed meetings continued.
I’m typically very good at planning ahead. This soft approach to texting a few hours before was me trying to be flexible and gentle with scheduling, for sustainability. Especially with this friend with whom I had had friction in the past over planning times to meet. I told myself this was mature time management. At the core, I was distracted with various life issues. I did not want to give this meeting, or any thing that was unrelated to my flailing business efforts, time or thought. I did not want to plan properly—because I did not want to be held to the schedule.
I knew that hosting prayer campaigns is a lot of work. I did a lot of that as a pastor. It was one of the things I wanted to run away from. And one of the ones I knew I could not. A part of me was still ‘resting’ from all those prayer campaigns.
I watched as our dream prayer partnership started becoming a fantasy. We had both been excited to start, as we felt the inspiration of the Holy Spirit in prompting the idea. Yet… It wasn’t happening, for no good reason. The desire was fading away, and a part of me was fine with that. A part of me was sending those last-minute text messages to my friend as a way of exonerating myself. “See, I texted her. She’s the one that didn’t respond. I did my bit.”
I wanted to be free to spend my Saturday morning as I please. Take long walks in the park around my home. Be flexible. Not be held to a schedule.
The honest part, however, of my soul was restive. Eventually, after another missed week of sending a lame text, I felt convicted. I manned up. I sent an email invite on a Monday for a meeting that was meant for Saturday. I sent her a message about it.
No excuses for either of us this time.
I held the meeting in my mind throughout the week, and especially on Saturday morning. This meant not taking an infinitely long walk, or spending my time randomly. I had to be on routine.
The meeting came quicker than I realized. I didn’t have time for breakfast and proper reflection as I intended to—life happened. But it was time, and we were both prompt.
As we caught up and traded stories, I made an accidental confession. We were saying how it was good to meet again after all the inevitable distractions. I said “I finally decided to schedule the meeting because I was tired of avoiding the hard work of commitment.”
That line landed. I saw the recognition in my friend’s face. It seemed she knew precisely what I was talking about, and perhaps felt convicted as well. It was something I had not thought of before that point or vocalized. It was an admission of guilt, and a moment of growth.
Avoiding the hard work of commitment. We had agreed to a plan. It sounded great in theory. What was left was commitment. The Apple Dictionary defines commitment as the quality of being dedicated to a cause or activity. We are both very intelligent, hard-working individuals. Veritable leaders in our own right. Meeting one a month, or biweekly, for pray briefly, should not be a big deal for either of us. Yet, it had been. To communicate. To plan based on an agreement. And to show up. Not hard. Yet, hard.
I took that line with me. The hard work of commitment. The devotion to a task or purpose. Where else had I been avoiding it? Perhaps it was more obvious in this case because there was an accountability partner.
The hard work of commitment. Commitment doesn’t always show up as something hard. It is usually the simple things. It might just be sending a Google Calendar invite. Making a simple plan to do something, and doing it when the time comes. Saying no to one legitimate distraction and saying yes to a scheduled activity instead. It’s often in the simple things that this avoidance shows up. The things that can take only a few minutes per day, yet yield huge results. Commitment to exercise. Commitment to self improvement. Commitment to loving others.
I’m currently reflecting on this. I am committing afresh to growth in every area. This lesson came in a moment of vulnerability. I’m taking it with me.