Doing The Next Right Thing

I have been a fan of Annie F. Downs since forever. I don’t remember how I found her work or even which of her books I read first. She’s been a constant dependable presence for the last several years, releasing books and podcasts that speak into my soul at, somehow, exactly the right time – or exactly the right time when I get around to listening or reading as it were. That’s usually how God works, isn’t it? You get the message you need right when you need it? 

When I moved back to Nashville, Annie’s church, Crosspoint, was on my list of churches to try. I went to a couple of services, enjoyed them, then moved on to the next one on my list, determined to find the right fit after drifting so long without a church community. Yet I kept coming back to Crosspoint, listening to their sermons uploaded as podcasts each week. Recently, it was Annie at the helm, preaching on how to know what the “right thing” is to do. 

In the sermon, Annie talks about a dress returning incident at Anthropologie and how she had to choose the right thing, despite how embarrassing it was. She has a gift of being able to turn an everyday occurrence (okay, so maybe this particular occurrence was not an everyday thing) into a teaching moment and her sermon wound around to preaching on James 2. The first section of James 2 discusses favoritism. It reminds us that we are supposed to care for everyone, not just those that meet our standards: 

James 2: 2- 4: For if someone comes into your meeting wearing a gold ring and dressed in fine clothes, and a poor person dressed in filthy clothes also comes in, if you look with favor on the one wearing the fine clothes and say, “Sit here in a good place,” and yet you say to the poor person, “Stand over there,” or “Sit here on the floor by my footstool,” haven’t you made distinctions among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts? 

How often have you given someone on the street a wide berth because their clothes are dirty, their hair matted, and everything they own is held in a failing garbage bag? Or perhaps you side eyed someone who looked different than you in a convenience store or maybe you catered to someone you deemed important based on their job title or the depth of their bank account? I know I’m guilty, as recent as the same day on which I’m writing this. We don’t mean to do it, we just – do. It’s on us to work to choose the next right thing which could be offering them a meal or even a simple smile. The golden rule is “love thy neighbor as thyself,” after all, and as Annie quotes in her sermon: “Non-Christians don’t read the Bible. Non-Christians read Christians.” 

Which brings us to the second half of James 2: faith by works.

Annie referenced the story of Abraham preparing to sacrifice his son Isaac despite God’s promise that Isaac would father a nation. Isaac was Abraham’s pride and joy, the son he had prayed for, that God had promised and that Abraham had believed would come. But then God called him to sacrifice Isaac. You or me might try to run, try to hide our precious baby from harm. Not Abraham. Abraham had so much faith in God that he was ready to sacrifice his own child and he believed that God would raise Isaac from the dead if need be. 

God stopped Abraham from sacrificing Abraham and rewarded him for his faith. 

Faith and works. 

God always gives us the next right thing to do, but that next right thing isn’t always the easy thing. It isn’t easy to extend your hand across the aisle to someone with wildly different views or that may not be able to remember the last time they had a hot shower, but it is almost always the next right thing to do. To quote Annie again, “doing the right thing is not always the easy thing, but doing the right thing changes everything.” 

Annie then prompted the congregation to take out their phones – yep, in church – and write down that above sentence: 

“Doing the right thing is not always the easy thing, but doing the right thing changes everything.” 

She then said to list what you knew were the next right things for you and gave examples like apologizing to someone, applying for the job you’ve been eyeing, finally making that phone call, inviting someone to come to church with you. It could be as simple as folding that load of laundry that’s been sitting in the corner for a week. She emphasized that doing the right thing could be hard, that there could even be consequences, but that it was still the right thing to do. 

Faith and works. 

I went on my usual walk later that afternoon after listening to Annie’s sermon. I try to do that most days – get away from my desk and take a stroll around the neighborhood my office is in. I love my job, but it can be meeting-heavy and my to-do list can be long. The movement and fresh air does wonders. I often use that time to pray or listen for God. I decided to do Annie’s “Next Right Thing” exercise and so I took out my phone, typed “Next Right Thing” and waited for God to tell me what those things were as I meandered through the neighborhood. 

He told me three things: 

1. Draft a query letter 
2. Start my podcast 
3. Golf lessons 

An interesting list. 

The query letter made sense. I have a finished manuscript and I’ll never get the thing published if I don’t take the steps to actually get it published. The podcast also made sense. God has been on me to get that going for a long while and I keep putting it off for *insert reason here.* Both of those items are well in line with God’s call on my life: tell stories. We’ll talk about that and all the ways I’ve been Jonah-like about the whole thing later. 

Golf lessons though? Really? 

I shook my head as I typed ‘golf lessons’ into my phone. I went to Topgolf a few weeks ago and someone I was with joked that she was going to sign up for golf lessons to find a husband. I laughed, but then I started swinging a golf club. I loved it. I was terrible at it, but I loved it. I looked up golf lessons fifteen minutes after I got home that night, all set to learn golf for the fun of it – a husband would be a bonus. Except I didn’t know where to start and I had to call – like, pick up a phone and call – most places, so I put it off. 

Yet “golf lessons” kept coming up. It would come to me in prayer, while I was on my midday walks, randomly during the day, while I was journaling. So when it came to me on my “what’s the next right thing?” quest, I had a little talk with God. 

“Okay, God, I get it. Golf lessons. But this is weird. Really weird, actually. Is this for real? Golf lessons? I know we have a deal where I told you I would say yes to whatever you ask me to do, but golf lessons is the next right thing? Okay. I’ll do it. But could you just send me something golf today to confirm I heard that right? Because that’s a weird next right thing.” 

I went about my day. 

Several hours later, I took my dogs for a walk. On the way back to my apartment, a guy got out of his truck – and walked right in front of me carrying two golf bags. 

Okay then. 

Golf lessons, the next right thing. 

I’m still working on my next right things from that afternoon walk, but the idea of doing the next right thing – even when it’s hard and not as fun as, say, golf lessons, has stuck with me. I’ve tried to do the “next right thing,” to put action behind my faith, to reel in the favoritism (the judgment) and remember we are all God’s people, to extend my hand or offer up a few dollars. 

Faith without works isn’t faith at all. Doing the next right thing isn’t always the easy thing or even without consequences. But it is what we were called to do. 

What’s your next right thing?