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Kevin David Kridner's avatar

P—thank you for writing this. I can feel the weight of conviction in it, and the sincerity of your call to trust God even when what He asks feels difficult or uncomfortable. That’s not a small thing to name, and I respect the clarity and courage in how you said it.

As I read, though, I found myself lingering in Jonah a bit longer.

Because what strikes me is not just that Jonah refused—but why.

It doesn’t seem like he misunderstood God.

It seems like he understood Him too well.

He knew God was merciful.

He knew Nineveh might be spared.

And something in him could not bear the thought of mercy being extended to people he believed did not deserve it.

That tension feels important.

Not as an excuse for Jonah—but as a window into something very human:

What happens when God’s mercy collides with our sense of justice?

I wonder if, at times, what looks like “refusal” on the surface is actually a deeper wrestling underneath:

wrestling with pain

wrestling with what feels right or fair

wrestling with wounds we may not even fully see

And I think Scripture gives us space for that wrestling.

The Psalms are full of it.

Job lives in it.

Even Jonah himself eventually argues with God.

So I find myself asking—not as a pushback, but out of curiosity:

Is obedience always the absence of resistance?

Or can it sometimes include bringing our full, honest tension into the presence of God?

Because the invitation I keep seeing is not just:

“Obey me.”

But also:

“Come, let me know you—even here.”

I agree with you that God is trustworthy, and that surrender matters deeply.

I just wonder if, sometimes, surrender doesn’t begin with silencing our resistance—but with bringing it honestly into relationship.

Appreciate you sharing this—it stirred something real in me.

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