The safari was everything we hoped for, offering a brief respite for our Western sensibilities from the disease and desperate need we saw on most of our trip. Yet we quickly learned that well-dressed Ugandans think differently than the average American. “What are you looking for?” I asked our Uganda guide as he escorted us down the path towards our villa after dinner.  “Hippos,” as if that was a perfectly normal answer.

“What are you going to do if you see one?” “I’ll bang two rocks together in my hands to scare the hippo.” Two rocks to scare the hippos, I thought in disbelief. “If that doesn’t work?” “Just don’t run in a straight line. Hippos can only run in a straight line.”

Obeying God feels like God wants something from me. In the case of the hippos, maybe God wanted a little more faith. Other times, He’s asking for my time, money, energy, or pride, but always faith. A water well. Obedience requires me to think more of Him and less of me. But obedience mostly feels like less of me. Like I’m giving up something for God. And this may be true in the short term. But obeying God really means more of Him.