The Shepherds Cafe had that late-December hush that makes everything feel heavier than it should. Outside, the sky was winter-gray and unmoved. Inside, the jazz stayed low, the coffee stayed strong, and people spoke in the careful tone they use when the year is almost over and they’re trying to decide what stays and what goes.
Elijah was quieter than usual.
Barbara noticed it immediately. Jeremiah noticed it too, but he didn’t pounce. He never did. He just watched, listened, and waited for the moment when the truth could land without bouncing off pride.
They finished their drinks, said their goodbyes, and stepped into the cold. A few minutes later, they were in Elijah’s car, rolling slowly through town with the heater working overtime.
Barbara sat in the passenger seat, scarf still wrapped around her neck, chai warming her hands. Jeremiah sat in the back seat, relaxed but attentive, white beard catching the occasional dashboard glow when they passed under streetlights. Elijah drove with both hands on the wheel, eyes forward, jaw set like a man trying to decide whether to be patient or to be done.
Barbara glanced at Elijah. “Alright,” she said, calm but direct. “You’re doing that thing again.”
Elijah didn’t look over. “What thing?”
“The quiet thing,” she said. “The ‘I’m fine’ thing. The ‘I’m about to make a decision and I don’t want anyone to slow me down’ thing.”
From the back seat, Jeremiah gave a low chuckle. “She’s not wrong,” he said. “Your silence is loud.”
Elijah exhaled, half-laughing, half-irritated. “I’m just thinking.”
Barbara nodded. “About what?”
Elijah tapped the steering wheel once, a nervous habit. “About letting something go.”
Jeremiah’s voice stayed steady behind them. “What kind of something?”
Elijah hesitated. “A relationship. A situation. A responsibility. It’s been draining me for months. I keep telling myself I’m doing right by staying engaged, but I’m tired. And with the year ending, I want to clean house.”
Barbara leaned back against the seat. “Cleaning house can be wise,” she said. “Or it can be an excuse to avoid what’s hard.”
Elijah finally glanced at her. “That’s exactly the problem. I don’t know which it is.”
Jeremiah didn’t rush. He let the car hum fill the space for a second. Then he asked, “Are you trying to let it go because it’s sinful and needs to be cut off? Or because it’s holy and costly and you’re tired of paying?”
Elijah blinked. “That’s… fair.”
Barbara’s voice softened. “Do you feel convicted, or just fatigued?”
Elijah stared through the windshield at the road ahead. “Fatigued. But I’m not proud of what fatigue does to me.”
Jeremiah nodded once from the back seat. “That honesty is a gift—if you use it correctly.”
Elijah’s fingers tightened slightly on the wheel. “I keep coming back to Hebrews,” he said. “It says Jesus can sympathize with our weaknesses and we can draw near for help (Hebrews 4:15–16). But I’ll be honest—sometimes I draw near, and I still feel tired.”
Barbara nodded. “Tired doesn’t mean you’re faithless.”
Jeremiah added, “And tired doesn’t automatically mean you’re supposed to quit.”
Elijah’s voice sharpened just a bit. “So what do I do? Keep going until I resent everyone? That doesn’t feel righteous.”
“No,” Jeremiah said, firm but not harsh. “Resentment is a warning light. But the answer isn’t always ‘walk away.’ Sometimes it’s ‘walk correctly.’”
Barbara turned slightly in her seat. “Explain.”
Jeremiah’s tone stayed calm, but it carried weight. “A lot of people confuse two things: stepping away from sin versus stepping away from obedience. Scripture commands both, but they’re not the same.”
Elijah nodded. “Like fleeing temptation.”
“Exactly,” Jeremiah said. “When something pulls you toward impurity, deceit, bitterness—anything that violates Christ—you don’t negotiate. You flee (2 Timothy 2:22). But when something pulls you toward patience, humility, self-control… that’s not a trap. That’s sanctification.”
Barbara stared out the window for a moment. “So how do you tell the difference in real life?”
Jeremiah answered without hurry. “You ask better questions than ‘Do I feel like doing this?’”
Elijah’s eyes stayed on the road. “Such as?”
Jeremiah held the structure in his voice like a handrail. “First: Does staying require me to sin? If yes, you already have your answer. Cut it off. Jesus was blunt about removing what causes stumbling (Matthew 5:29–30). Not because He loves drama, but because He loves your soul.”
Barbara nodded. “That part is clean.”
Jeremiah continued. “Second: If I stay, am I staying to obey Christ or to protect my pride? Sometimes we stay just to prove we can control the situation.”
Elijah swallowed. “That one stings.”
Jeremiah didn’t apologize. “Truth often does.”
Barbara added, “And sometimes we leave to protect pride too.”
Elijah gave a short, tired laugh. “Yes. That’s the other side.”
Jeremiah’s voice stayed steady. “Third: If I leave, am I leaving to obey Christ or to protect my comfort? Sometimes what people call ‘boundaries’ are really just polished exits from responsibility.”
The car was quiet for a beat. Not awkward—just honest.
Barbara broke it softly. “So what’s the next right step?”
Elijah hesitated. “The thing I want to ‘clean house’ from is… a pattern. Someone keeps creating problems. I can’t fix it. I can’t control it. And I’m tired of trying.”
Jeremiah spoke from the back seat like a man who’d learned this lesson the hard way. “You were never called to control people. You were called to be faithful.”
Barbara’s tone sharpened slightly, but it was love sharpening it. “Faithfulness doesn’t mean enabling.”
Elijah looked relieved someone said it out loud.
Jeremiah agreed. “Correct. There’s a difference between patience and permission. Patience endures hardship while doing good. Permission tolerates sin without correction.”
Elijah asked quietly, “So what does correction look like without becoming harsh?”
Jeremiah answered immediately. “Truth with a steady spirit. Scripture says to speak the truth in love (Ephesians 4:15). Love isn’t softness. Love is commitment to someone’s good. And sometimes their good includes discomfort.”
Barbara nodded. “And sometimes the discomfort includes you, not just them.”
Elijah’s smile was faint. “That’s the part I keep trying to edit out.”
Jeremiah’s voice grew more serious. “If you’re looking for an obedience that never costs you, you’re not looking for the obedience Jesus taught. He said deny yourself and follow Him (Luke 9:23). Denial isn’t poetic. It’s practical.”
Elijah stared ahead. “So my tiredness isn’t the final authority.”
“No,” Jeremiah said. “It’s information. Not a command.”
Barbara watched Elijah carefully. “Then don’t use tiredness as permission to sin, and don’t use tiredness as an excuse to abandon obedience. If you’re exhausted, get help. Pray. Rest. But stay honest.”
Elijah nodded slowly. “I need to confront the pattern with truth. Set a clear expectation. And do it without anger.”
Jeremiah’s tone warmed. “Good. Do it with a clear conscience before God, not just a clear conscience before people.”
Elijah asked, “Meaning?”
Jeremiah answered, “Meaning you’re not doing this to win. You’re doing it to obey. Whether they receive it or reject it, you do what the Lord requires.”
Barbara raised her chai slightly, like a small toast. “To obedience that doesn’t need a perfect mood.”
Jeremiah lifted his coffee cup from the back seat, amused at the continuity. “And to walking with God when the road is smooth, not just when it’s dark.”
Elijah’s phone buzzed once in the console. He glanced at it, then turned it face down. “I’m going to pray before I respond.”
Jeremiah’s voice carried quiet approval. “That,” he said, “is a man refusing to be led by emotion.”
Practical Challenge (Do This Today):
Pick one situation you’re tempted to “clean house” from—something you want to quit, ghost, or abandon. Before you act, ask these three questions in prayer:
- Does staying require me to sin? If yes, cut it off immediately.
- If I stay, am I staying to obey Christ or to protect my pride?
- If I leave, am I leaving to obey Christ or to protect my comfort?
Then take one concrete step today: either remove the sinful influence decisively, or pursue obedience with truth spoken in love—without waiting for a better mood.