The Words That Never Came: A Response to August 17th

This is part of my year-long series exploring human-centered alternatives to the spiritual promises in Oswald Chambers’ classic devotional My Utmost for His Highest. Today’s entry, “Are You Discouraged in Devotion?” promises that when Jesus speaks “stern words” to believers, “sooner or later it will bear fruit” even if it initially produces discouragement, claiming that Jesus “knows perfectly well” that His difficult words will eventually result in devoted obedience, and that He never shames believers for past refusals to hear Him.

Here’s what listening for Jesus’s stern words actually delivered:


For twenty-three years, Pastor Mike had been telling his congregation about the stern words Jesus had spoken to him. The word that had called him to ministry. The word that had led him to seminary. The word that had directed him to this particular church in this particular town.

“When Jesus speaks something difficult to you,” Mike would preach, “you’ll know it’s meant specifically for you. It demands a choice. It might discourage you at first, like the rich young ruler, but sooner or later it will bear fruit if you don’t prevent it.”

The congregation loved these stories. They made Mike seem spiritually sensitive, personally chosen, intimately connected to a Jesus who still spoke stern, specific words to faithful listeners.

But Mike had a secret that would have destroyed his career: he hadn’t heard a word from Jesus in over a decade.

The “call to ministry” had been his mother’s relentless pressure and his own inability to figure out what else to do with a theology degree. The “word” about seminary had been financial aid availability and proximity to his girlfriend. The “direction” to this church had been the only job offer he’d received after six months of searching.

Mike had learned to retrofit normal life decisions with spiritual language because that’s what people expected from pastors. Every reasonable choice became a divine word. Every practical consideration became spiritual guidance. Every calculated decision became stern instruction from Jesus.

But lately, Mike was facing decisions that actually required divine guidance—if such a thing existed. His marriage was failing. His teenage daughter was using drugs. The church board was questioning his leadership during the worst financial crisis in the congregation’s history.

Mike desperately needed to hear something—anything—from Jesus. A stern word about his marriage. A difficult instruction about his daughter. A clear direction about his ministry.

The silence was complete.

Mike tried everything he’d taught others. He listened deliberately. He waited for words that were “amazingly hard.” He looked for choices that would demand sacrifice like the rich young ruler’s. He examined his heart for refusals to hear that might be blocking divine communication.

Nothing. No words, stern or otherwise. No specific instructions. No personal messages from Jesus about the crises that were destroying his life and ministry.

Meanwhile, Mike watched his atheist neighbor, Janet, navigate similar challenges with remarkable clarity. When Janet’s marriage hit rough water, she and her husband entered counseling. When her teenager got in trouble, she researched adolescent behavior and set clear boundaries. When her job became unstable, she updated her resume and networked aggressively.

Janet never waited for stern words from Jesus. She assessed situations, researched options, consulted experts, and made informed decisions based on available evidence. She took responsibility for her choices without crediting divine direction or blaming spiritual interference.

And Janet’s life was working better than Mike’s.

Standing in his empty church office late one Tuesday night, Mike finally faced the question he’d been avoiding for months: What if there were no stern words from Jesus to hear? What if the discouragement he felt wasn’t the initial response to divine instruction, but just the normal human experience of facing difficult decisions without supernatural guidance?

What if the rich young ruler had walked away sadly not because he’d rejected divine words, but because he’d realized there was no divine voice to reject?

Mike looked at the resignation letter he’d been drafting for weeks. Leaving ministry would break his mother’s heart. It would disappoint his congregation. It would require him to build an entirely new career at forty-five.

But for the first time in twenty-three years, Mike was ready to make a major life decision without claiming to hear stern words from Jesus. He was ready to choose based on what he could actually see: a failed marriage, troubled children, and a job that required him to pretend to hear voices that had never spoken.

The decision felt terrifying. But it also felt honest in a way that no spiritual word had ever been.


Reflection Question: How many of your major life decisions have you attributed to divine words that were actually just normal human reasoning dressed in religious language?


This story is part of my upcoming book “The Undevoted: Daily Departures from Divine Dependence,” which offers 365 human-centered alternatives to the spiritual certainties in Chambers’ devotional. Each day explores how reason, community, and human resilience can address life’s challenges without requiring divine intervention.

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Author: Richard L. Fricks

Writer. Observer. Builder. I write from a life shaped by attention, simplicity, and living without a script—through reflective essays, long-form inquiry, and fiction rooted in ordinary lives. I live in rural Alabama, where writing, walking, and building small, intentional spaces are part of the same practice.

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