Stop Waiting for Clarity: Obedience Without an Itinerary

“By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance; he went out, not knowing where he was to go.” —Hebrews 11:8

When have you had to choose without guarantees—college major, a gap year, whom to marry, where to live, whether to homeschool, whether to relocate or change careers? Trusting that God speaks through prayer, circumstance, opportunity, and the counsel of wise people even when the outcome stays hidden is a challenge we all face.

We don’t need more certainty; we need a truer obedience. We need God to make us brave. Our problem isn’t a lack of information; it’s our demand to take control. We rationalize our lack of faith as “due diligence”, and procrastinate until every variable is nailed down. The mind races: What exactly will happen? When will I know? If this door shuts, what’s next? If that door opens, then what? Are we moving or staying? We bristle at “wait and see,” and the swirl of questions breeds anxious hesitation—freeze, delay, retreat. But that is neither obedience nor faith. We’re to move because God speaks, and in the moving our heart is formed.

Let’s take a lesson from Christ’s life, in Luke we read, “And Jesus advanced in wisdom and age and favor before God and man.” —Luke 2:52. Even the Son of God didn’t have shortcuts or cheat codes. Jesus learned, listened, obeyed, and grew—day by ordinary day—under the quiet discipline of His parents and the Father’s will. The pattern shown here is not efficiency but steady becoming. That is the pattern for all of us, quiet growth under the Father’s eye. Holiness matures the way a tree does: first, hidden roots sink deep long before fruit appears.

Abraham followed this pattern. “By faith Abraham obeyed when he was called to go out to a place that he was to receive as an inheritance; he went out, not knowing where he was to go.” Faith doesn’t wait for a full agenda and synopsis; it answers a voice. Abraham exhibited trust and took his first step because he heard and responded to God. Abraham moved without an itinerary but gave his consent to God. Augustine wrote something along the lines of, the God who made you without your permission will not remake you without your participation. Consent matters. Faith is obedience under incomplete light. When you wait for perfect clarity, you are not being wise–you are avoiding obedience and postponing love. Abraham’s consent becomes a road; each step shapes him into the man the promise of God requires.

When the Lord first spoke to Abram in Ur, He promised what seemed impossible: a great nation and a blessing for the world through a seventy-five-year-old, childless man with a wife who could not conceive. Abram did not look like the promise he received. He left his homeland, family, and livelihood with no guarantee of return, stumbled and doubted along the way, yet rose again and kept walking. It was the long path of obedience—step, fall, rise, step—that slowly formed him into the man God had named.

God’s commands do not inform us so much as they transform us. The Word speaks in order to make what He says possible. The command to Abraham to “Go” was not merely a test; it was the very road by which God made Abraham into a father. Step by step, the man became the promise he had received. That is what real guidance looks like: not a full briefing, but a divine presence that transforms you as you walk.

In Genesis 22 we walk with father Abraham and his only son, Isaac, to the place of offering. “Some time afterward, God put Abraham to the test…” and said, “Take your son… whom you love,” to the mountain (Genesis 22:1-19). It’s a hard scene to be sure. The wood is carried, a question is asked, an altar built, and Isaac is bound. Abraham demonstrates a heart that has learned to prefer God even to God’s gifts. The knife is lifted, the angel speaks, the ram is provided and God’s covenant takes on a depth it did not have the day before. This test is not cruelty but purification. Obedience opens views we cannot see from the narrow path God calls us to walk. A divided love is not yet pure love. When we keep to the path God sets—without seeing the ground a few steps ahead and without knowing the destination—the journey itself, joined to our cooperation, consent, and obedience, shapes us into what God desires and draws out the hidden fulfillment our hearts were made to seek.

When we protest–because we do–God answers with both mercy and with mystery. “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways…” (Isaiah 55:8-9). Our lives swerve—illness, loss, brokenness, desperation—we ask: Why this? Why now? We are allowed to ask “Why?” The psalms do it often. God’s ways outrun ours. But in our calling out to the Lord, we must also move. Isaiah’s words are a doorway into trust. We’re permitted to ask; but we are also to keep walking. Faith that does not yield to action, obedience, and concrete love is not faith at all. Obedience is not mere compliance; it is the path by which God heals the will. Abraham’s story is a close-up example of a soul being conformed through grace.

So begin where you are. Receive the pattern of the Lord Jesus: grow. Choose one ordinary place—your daily prayer, your speech at home, your work, your schedule—and let it be trained by God. Imitate Abraham and go. Take the step you already know is right, even without full explanation. Consent to take the next right step under God’s eye even if you don’t see what the outcome might be. When a hard cross is placed in your arms, offer it up. Hand back to God the very good gift you’re tempted to hold too tightly (your Isaac), trusting that whatever He returns will be rightly ordered or rightly replaced with something better for your soul. That is how a human heart becomes clean and strong.

Faith is not blindness; it is sight that begins with listening. Faith walks before it sees and by walking, begins to see. That’s the secret. The road clarifies as you move. The Father is not late; He is leading.

Lord, when I am confused, remind me You are near. Give me the grace to release my grip on control, to ask for Your help, and to accept Your direction. Teach me to walk in faith like Abraham and to grow like Your Son. In Jesus’s name I pray, Amen.