I don’t like being pushed, rushed, forced, boxed, or told what to do. My excuse is that I was born a month early and still hold a grudge for that. The best way to get me to do something, in fact, is to trick me into thinking it’s my own idea. If that sounds like manipulation, it just might be. But whatever works. Besides, the only real difference between manipulation and influence is your motive for doing it (seriously, think about that).

God pushes me sometimes. It works because he’s so much bigger than I am. Bigger, and immovable. I don’t like it, but He’s God, so I bend. Usually before I break, but not always. I prefer nudging to pushing, but God can do what he wants.

Most times God pulls me, and for some reason I don’t mind being pulled. I guess it’s more of a tug when it comes down to it. Like today. I took a Stat day and had the house to myself. For about half the day, I sensed a freedom to just be, to flake, to relax and let my brain wiggle like jell0. The other half of the day I was being tugged—to pray, to clean something up, to pray again, to text a buddy about doing lunch.

The moment I give in to a tug, there’s a surge of joy to get me over the decision-hump. I love it.

These tugs are subtle, you understand. Little urges no bigger than quiet ripples on the pond of my heart. Tuning in to them releases such a sweetness in my soul, such a delight to be walking with God. But they’re so easy to ignore.

So very easy.

Can you relate to these nudges and tugs? Tell me about it…