The Holy Spirit is not complicated. This thought surfaces again this morning as I sit with my coffee, staring at the chaos I've created in what should have been simple obedience. I have a gift, it seems, for taking clear direction and wrapping it in layers of complexity until the original instruction is nearly unrecognizable beneath the weight of my additions.
"Do this," the Spirit whispers. "Got it," I respond. "But first, let me overthink it."
In further examining this pattern in my life, this curious ability to clutter clarity, and I'm beginning to understand that it's not actually confusion causing the problem. The guidance is clear, even frustratingly clear. The issue is that I don't trust simplicity, as I've written previously, sometimes I chase shiny objects and other times I bury myself in clutter. I've convinced myself that important work must be complicated, that significant obedience must involve complex strategies and multi-layered plans. So I add, I complicate, and I build elaborate structures around straightforward instructions, telling myself I'm being thorough when I'm really just procrastinating through clutter and confusion.
There's a mental juggling game I play that I've finally learned to recognize. It goes something like this - The Holy Spirit places something directly in my path like a conversation to have, a project to complete, a simple act of service to offer. And instead of just doing it, I pause to envision all the ways this could unfold, I map out scenarios, anticipate obstacles. Worse yet, I construct detailed plans for how this single act of obedience might ripple out into the future, it feels productive, it feels like wisdom, and it even feels spiritual. This careful consideration of how today's faithfulness might serve tomorrow's purpose.
But underneath all that seemingly prudent planning, the disturbing discovery is that I'm avoiding the vulnerability of the present moment. Because present-moment obedience requires something that future-focused dreaming doesn't in that it requires me to actually do something, right now, without guarantees about how it will turn out. The dreams I spin while procrastinating are safe. They exist in the protected space of my imagination where I control all variables and outcomes are certain. But the work in front of me? That's real, uncertain; might fail, be awkward, difficult or disappointing. It might not connect to anything impressive at all, so I dream and complicate instead. I clutter the clarity with complications of my own making.
What strikes me most about this pattern is how it masquerades as something else entirely. When I'm lost in the forest of my own complications, I genuinely believe I'm being responsible, being thorough, being wise. I think I'm honoring God by taking His assignment seriously, by treating it with the gravity it deserves.
But really, I'm just afraid.
Afraid that simple obedience won't be enough. Afraid that if I just do what's in front of me without dressing it up in impressive plans, it won't matter. Afraid that the work will be small, unnoticed, insignificant. So I compensate with complexity, as if the intricate scaffolding I build around clear direction somehow makes the obedience more valuable.
The irony is that in trying to make simple faithfulness seem more important, I often prevent myself from being faithful at all. The work goes undone while I'm busy architecting elaborate approaches to work that required no architecture in the first place. I think about my life as a weather forecaster in the Air Force, those years of trying to predict the unpredictable, of building models and analyzing data to forecast what would happen next. There was value in that work, of course. But I've noticed how that forecasting mindset has bled into areas where it doesn't belong.
The Holy Spirit doesn't need my forecasts. He's not waiting for my strategic analysis before He can work. He's not impressed by my ability to envision twelve possible outcomes and develop contingency plans for each one. He's just asking me to do the next thing. But I've been trained almost subconsciously by culture, by temperament, by years of professional habit to believe that responding to what's in front of me without extensive planning is somehow irresponsible. I've internalized the message that readiness means knowing what's coming and preparing for it, rather than simply being available to what's here.
So when the Spirit's direction is simple, I assume I must be missing something. I dig deeper, look for hidden complexity, search for the "real" instruction beneath the surface-level clarity. And in doing so, I bury the simple truth under layers of unnecessary sophistication. What I'm slowly, reluctantly realizing is that clarity is the point. The simplicity is not a test I need to decode or a starting place I need to elaborate on. It's the actual instruction. "Do what's in front of you" doesn't mean "do what's in front of you, but first spend three hours imagining how this connects to your five-year vision." It means do it, now.
The future work of the Holy Spirit in my life and the fruit that will come, the growth that will happen, the purpose that will unfold all depends not on my ability to envision it in advance, but on my willingness to be faithful in the present moment. This moment. Not the impressive accumulation of moments I'm planning for tomorrow, but the unglamorous, immediate, sometimes tedious moment that's actually here. Because here and now is where real transformation happens. Not in my dreams of spiritual maturity I'll achieve someday, but in the choices I make today. Not in the impressive life I imagine building in the future, but in the simple obedience I offer right now. The past, the now, and the future - all of it is in His hands, not mine. My job is absurdly simple in that all I need to do what's in front of me.
I'm trying to practice returning to simplicity. When I catch myself cluttering clear direction with complications, I'm asking, What am I avoiding? Because underneath the elaborate planning and the impressive-sounding strategies, there's usually just fear. Fear that simple won't be enough. Fear that I won't be enough. Fear that if I'm not constantly projecting forward and managing outcomes, everything will fall apart. But what if it won't? What if the Holy Spirit is actually more capable than my anxiety gives Him credit for? What if He doesn't need my help managing the future, only my cooperation in the present? What if the work in front of me, the email, the conversation, the small act of service is exactly sufficient for today, and tomorrow will bring its own sufficient work when tomorrow arrives?
There's a kind of peace available in simplicity that I've been denying myself. The peace of knowing my job is just to do what's in front of me, and the outcomes belong to Someone else. The peace of showing up fully to the present moment instead of mentally living three steps ahead. The peace of uncomplicated obedience. It's not the peace of having everything figured out. It's better than that, rather it's the peace of not needing to figure everything out. Of trusting that clear direction is enough, that simple faithfulness matters, that the Holy Spirit's work through my life doesn't depend on my ability to see the whole picture, only my willingness to respond to what I can see right now.
So I'm practicing. Practicing the return to clarity when I notice the clutter building. Practicing trust that simplicity is sufficient. Practicing the strange, countercultural discipline of just doing what's in front of me without needing to know how it all connects. The guidance is clear. It's always been clear. I'm the one who complicates it, who clutters it, who buries it under layers of unnecessary sophistication. But underneath all my additions, the instruction remains just to do what's in front of you. So that's what I'm learning to do. One simple, present-moment act of obedience at a time.
Right here. Right now. Right in front of me.
