The Obedience I Wasn’t Taught…

What if everything you were taught about obedience was actually about control—not alignment?

Obedience has been my teacher lately. 

Not the kind tied to fear or striving—but the kind anchored in trust.

As a child, I was taught obedience meant staying in line, doing as I was told, and not questioning authority. That message echoed through family, school, church—and later, boardrooms. For many of us, especially Black women educators and leaders, obedience gets tangled with performance, perfectionism, and the pressure to hold it all together without ever falling apart.

So when God gave me the vision to create a space for deep, honest conversations—🌿Cultivate (a monthly space for reflection, rest, and real conversation—just for us)—my first instinct wasn’t “yes.”

It was hesitation. The kind that sounds like:
😕“Who’s going to come?”
😕“Do I really have time for this?”
😕“Is this even the right season?”

I used to believe obedience meant hearing the call and running—fast, flawlessly, and with receipts. I thought it meant producing, proving, performing… perfectly.

But I’ve come to learn something else. Obedience isn’t about speed. It doesn’t always wait for clarity.

It calls for trust. It looks like taking a small, faithful step—even when your hands are shaking and the timeline is less than perfect.

When Saying Yes Feels Like Rebellion

This month, something shifted. Year of Yes by Shonda Rhimes reminded me that obedience isn’t always about submitting to someone else’s authority.  Sometimes, it’s about finally listening to your own.

Obedience can look like saying yes to growth.
✔️Yes to discomfort.
✔️Yes to visibility.
✔️Yes to joy.
✔️Yes to being fully seen.

And for women of color, that kind of yes isn’t small—it’s sacred.
It’s rebellious in all the right ways.

That’s what I chose when I launched 🌿Cultivate with one week’s notice —sweaty palms, trembling voice, and a decision to trust what I knew was mine to do. No I wasn’t fully ready. But I was fully aligned. And that was enough.

Want to join me in redefining obedience?

Here are 3 lessons I’m carrying with me—and inviting you to hold, too: 

1️⃣ Mastering Mindset: Obedience isn’t about rushing—it’s about reverence.
Most women of color (me included) have been conditioned to move fast, stay strong, and never drop the ball. Urgency becomes our default. But I’m learning that sacred obedience often asks us to slow down. It’s not always the loud “yes” with a perfect plan. Sometimes, it’s the quiet, reverent pause—the deep breath before the leap. I used to think obedience had to look brave and bold. Now I know it can look like stillness, discernment, and a soft step forward in alignment.

2️⃣ Building Boundaries: If it costs your peace, it’s not obedience—it’s obligation.
Obligation wears the mask of obedience—but it robs us of joy. I’ve said yes to too many things that drained me, not because God called me to them, but because guilt did. In schools we are often expected to be all things to all people—caretaker, crisis manager, counselor, culture-keeper—while our own needs are ignored. This month, I practiced a new kind of obedience: saying no to anything that pushed me into resentment and yes to what restored me. That’s not selfish. That’s sacred discernment.

3️⃣ Fueling Forward: Your next faithful step is enough.
You don’t have to leap. You don’t have to know the full map. You just have to move one step closer to alignment. For me, that looked like saying yes to Cultivate—not because I had it all figured out, but because I trusted the seed. Your step might look different. A new conversation. A boundary. A pause. A journal entry. What matters is that you honor it.

What does obedience look like for you in this season?

For me, obedience is no longer about self-sacrifice to prove my worth—to others or to my past self. It’s about alignment. Listening. Trusting the slow yes. Trusting God’s pace, not the world’s pressure. And you know what? That’s where the blessing lives. 

So tell me:

• What’s your next faithful step? 
• What are you being called to trust—even if it’s quiet?
• Even if it’s uncomfortable?
• Even if it’s for you, and not for them?

Until next month,

Michelle 

P.S. If this message stirred something in you, you’re invited to join me for 🌿Cultivate—a sacred space to reflect, breathe, and ask the deeper questions. Click below to learn more or join the next gathering.

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