Hey friends, welcome back to the podcast. I’m grateful you’re here. Today’s episode is a quieter one, but I think it’s an important one—maybe even a freeing one.

I want to talk about something that doesn’t get a lot of attention, but is absolutely vital in the life of faith.

It’s this: hidden obedience.

The choices you make when no one is watching. The private disciplines. The quiet “yes” to God when there’s no spotlight, no affirmation, no immediate fruit.

It’s the kind of obedience that no one applauds, and no algorithm rewards. But it’s the kind of obedience that forms you. That builds roots. That prepares you to stand when things get shaky.

So if you’ve ever felt like your obedience doesn’t matter—if you’ve ever wondered whether your private faithfulness is worth it—this episode is for you.

Part 1: The Culture of Visibility

We live in a world that constantly tells us: If it isn’t seen, it doesn’t matter. And I think we’ve bought into that more than we realize.

We’re wired—especially in our current culture—to equate visibility with value. If it gets noticed, if it gets applause, if it gets shared or recognized, then it must matter. But if it’s done in private? Quietly? Faithfully? It can start to feel like it’s insignificant.

And I’ll be real with you—this hits me, too. Whether it’s ministry work or just everyday faithfulness, there’s this low hum in the background that asks, “Did anyone notice that? Did it count?”

There’s a moment many people have had—serving behind the scenes at a church event. Maybe it was setting up chairs, running cords, brewing coffee. Nothing glamorous, nothing spotlight-worthy. And when it’s over, you pack up, clean up, head home—and there’s this small, nagging voice that whispers, *“That didn’t really matter. Anyone could’ve done that.”*It’s subtle, but it sinks in. The lie that only seen things are significant.

But here’s what the Lord whispers: “You didn’t do that for them. You did it for Me.” And that should stop you. Because you can’t look for validation from the wrong audience.

We are so conditioned to perform for an audience we can see. For likes, for comments, for affirmation. Even in spiritual spaces, we can fall into this subtle mindset where our faith feels more “real” when it’s visible—when we lead worship, or speak publicly, or post a meaningful devotional online. And don’t get me wrong—those things can be good and God-glorifying.

But Jesus, in Matthew 6, flips that thinking on its head. He says:

“When you give… don’t let your left hand know what your right hand is doing.”“When you pray… go into your room and shut the door.”“When you fast… don’t make it obvious to others.”

Jesus doesn’t say, “Don’t do these things.” He says, “Do them in secret.” Why? Because that’s where your motive gets exposed.

Am I doing this because I love God—or because I want to be seen loving God?

Am I showing up out of obedience—or out of a need to prove something?

It’s not that public obedience is bad. Far from it. But if we only obey when we’re seen, then we’re not being shaped into disciples—we’re being shaped into performers.

And God’s looking for followers, not performers.

Part 2: Obedience When It Feels Pointless

Hidden obedience isn’t flashy. It doesn’t come with fanfare. Most of the time, it feels… quiet. Ordinary. Repetitive. And sometimes—even pointless.

And that’s where the discouragement sets in.

You show up. You serve. You do the right thing. You choose integrity. And yet, nothing seems to change. No big breakthrough. No visible impact. You wonder, “Is this even doing anything?”

There are people who wake up early before work to spend time in prayer and Scripture, and they’re not trying to post about it—they just want to be near God. And some mornings, it feels powerful… but other days? It’s dry. Distracted. And they walk away wondering, “Did that even matter?”

There are parents disciplining themselves to love patiently, speak gently, lead spiritually—and half the time, they’re met with eye-rolls, meltdowns, or silence. They wonder if anything is sticking. If it’s all just slipping through the cracks.

There are believers who turn off the show everyone else is watching, scroll past the reel everyone else is liking, or resist the temptation that no one would ever know about—just because they want to be faithful to God. But there’s no applause. No visible reward. Just quiet obedience in the face of loneliness or fear or desire.

And yet—this is the kind of obedience that builds deep roots.

Because hidden obedience is not about the results—it’s about relationship. It’s saying, “God, I trust that you see me. That your presence is enough. That faithfulness matters even when no one else notices.”

Galatians 6:9 says this:

“Let us not grow weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest—if we do not give up.”

I love that verse, but I think we sometimes miss what Paul’s saying. The weariness he’s talking about isn’t just physical exhaustion—it’s heart exhaustion. It’s what happens when you keep doing the right thing but can’t see the fruit. When the silence starts to feel like a closed door. When you’re tempted to quit—not because obedience is hard, but because it seems… empty.

But that’s where faith comes in.

Faith says, “Even when I don’t see it, I believe something is happening.”

Faith says, “God is using this. He’s forming me.”

Faith says, “The harvest isn’t here yet—but it’s coming.”

One of the most powerful truths in the Christian life is this: fruit takes time. Roots come first. Seasons of planting always feel less exciting than seasons of harvest, but they’re just as important. You can't skip that part. And sometimes, the most important thing you’ll do this year is stay faithful in the small, hidden things.

So if you’re waking up early to pray—even when it’s hard, keep going.

If you’re showing up for someone who barely acknowledges it—keep going.

If you’re resisting sin quietly when no one else sees the battle—keep going.

If you’re walking with God in the quiet—keep going.

It may feel small, but in God’s kingdom, faithfulness is never wasted.

Part 3: The Life of Joseph

Not long ago, my family and I were reading through the story of Joseph—just sitting in the living room n the evening. And even though I’ve heard his story dozens of times, something hit me differently this time around—especially in light of this idea of hidden obedience.

If you’re not familiar, Joseph’s story starts in Genesis 37 and spans multiple chapters. He’s the favorite son, gifted with dreams from God—but his life takes a hard turn. His brothers sell him into slavery. He ends up in Egypt, serving in the house of a man named Potiphar.

And here’s what stood out to me this time: Joseph didn’t get bitter. He didn’t spiral. He served faithfully. Quietly. Behind the scenes. He made the most of his situation and earned trust.

But then—just as things were going well—he’s falsely accused of something he didn’t do and thrown in prison. Totally unjust. And once again, Joseph chooses faithfulness in obscurity.

Genesis 39:21 says,

“But the Lord was with Joseph and showed him steadfast love and gave him favor in the sight of the keeper of the prison.”

That phrase—the Lord was with Joseph—is repeated multiple times in his story. Not in the palace. Not on the throne. But in slavery. In prison. In hidden, quiet, seemingly unfair places.

This is a great thing to talk to the kids about—how sometimes doing the right thing doesn’t lead to applause. Sometimes it leads to a harder road. But the presence of God is what makes it worth it.

Even in prison, Joseph interprets dreams for two fellow inmates. He could’ve said, “I’m done serving people. I’ve done enough.” But instead—he listens, he helps, and again… he’s forgotten. For two more years, Joseph stays in that prison, invisible to the world but not forgotten by God.

Eventually, Pharaoh has a dream no one can interpret. Joseph is called up. And that’s the moment—the moment we all remember. The big break. The promotion. The fulfillment of everything God spoke to him as a teenager.

But none of it happens without the years of hidden faithfulness.

And here’s the connection for us: God was forming Joseph in private for what he would one day carry in public.

Those silent years? They weren’t wasted. They were preparation.

Some of you might be in that place right now—doing the right things, quietly, faithfully, without recognition. Raising kids. Loving your spouse well. Showing up for church. Fighting for purity. Reading Scripture when it feels dry. Praying for that one person who just won’t change.

And you’re wondering if it matters.

Let me encourage you: God sees it. He sees you. And He’s not just watching—He’s working. He’s shaping your character so you’ll be ready to carry what He’s planning to give you.

If Joseph had skipped the prison, he wouldn’t have had the wisdom to lead a nation.

If he hadn’t learned faithfulness in the hidden places, he wouldn’t have known how to steward influence in the spotlight.

And that’s what hidden obedience does. It teaches us to lead ourselves before we try to lead others. It anchors us in humility. It prepares us to carry the weight of God’s purposes.

So if you’re in that in-between space right now, like Joseph—don’t rush it. The waiting, the quiet, the repetition—it’s not punishment. It’s preparation.

And when the season changes, when the doors open, when your “Pharaoh moment” comes—you’ll walk into it with a foundation of trust, not ego. Because you were faithful with what no one saw.

Part 4: The Deep Work of the Spirit

Here’s something I’ve been learning—and honestly, relearning—in this season: God isn’t just interested in what you do for Him. He’s deeply invested in who you’re becoming in Him.

And that kind of transformation? It doesn’t usually happen on stages or in spotlights. It happens in obscurity. In stillness. In repetition. In the kind of obedience that no one else sees.

We tend to think in terms of output. What am I producing? What am I accomplishing? What can I point to as evidence that I’m growing?

But the Holy Spirit is doing something slower and deeper. Something that doesn’t always show up on the outside right away.

In John 15, Jesus gives us this image of a vine and branches. He says,

“Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine…”

Notice, Jesus doesn’t say, “Work really hard and produce fruit.” He says, “Stay close to Me.” That’s the core of spiritual life—abiding.

And abiding is hidden.

You don’t see roots growing. You don’t hear nutrients moving through a vine. But that connection? That quiet, steady dependence? It’s the source of everything.

When we prioritize private faithfulness—when we pray in secret, resist temptation in secret, obey God’s voice in the quiet—we are living out a rooted, abiding kind of life. The fruit might come later. But the health of the fruit is completely dependent on the health of the root.

I think about people I’ve known who carried peace and strength and humility with them everywhere they went. People who didn’t need the spotlight but seemed deeply anchored. Almost immovable.

You could feel it in the way they listened. In the way they prayed. In the way they responded to conflict or uncertainty. They had depth. And I guarantee that depth didn’t come from a platform. It came from years of hidden obedience. Quiet mornings with God. Personal repentance. Faithful service. Listening before speaking.

That’s the deep work of the Spirit.

And it’s not quick. It’s not flashy. It’s often slow, repetitive, and even boring. But it’s forming something eternal.

We often want events to shape us—powerful moments at a retreat, a sermon that lights us up, a big “God encounter.” And yes, those moments can be incredibly meaningful. But if we don’t have a pattern of obedience underneath the event, the spark won’t sustain.

It’s the day-in, day-out formation of the Spirit that makes the difference.

It’s forgiving when it still hurts.

It’s choosing truth when a lie would be easier.

It’s turning off the screen when no one would know.

It’s opening your Bible when your heart doesn’t feel it.

It’s showing up for someone who may never thank you.

That’s where the Spirit does His deepest work—not in the rush, but in the repeat.

So if your spiritual life feels uneventful right now—if it feels like nothing big is happening—I want you to know: it might be your most formative season yet.

Stay rooted. Stay close to the Vine. Keep practicing the small yeses. The unseen ones. That’s where the Spirit is working—beneath the surface, building something that will last.

Part 5: Encouragement for the Weary

If you’ve made it this far in the episode and you’re feeling a little tired, maybe even discouraged—that’s okay.

Hidden obedience isn’t glamorous. It’s not designed to give you a dopamine hit. Sometimes, it’s incredibly difficult. You show up again and again, and it feels like there’s no immediate payoff. You’re doing the right thing, and yet it feels… silent. Slow. Heavy.

If that’s you right now—I just want to say this clearly: you are not forgotten. And your obedience is not wasted.

Hebrews 6:10 says,

“God is not unjust; He will not forget your work and the love you have shown Him as you have helped His people and continue to help them.”

That verse always stops me in my tracks. Because it tells us something really important: God sees everything. Every quiet act of faithfulness. Every small decision to obey. Every moment you chose integrity when no one else would’ve known otherwise. Every prayer whispered in weakness. Every day you opened your Bible and said, “God, I’m here, even if I don’t feel anything.”

He sees it. He honors it. And He remembers it.

There’s a phrase I come back to often: "Don’t mistake silence for absence."

Just because you haven’t seen the fruit yet doesn’t mean God isn’t working.

Just because your season feels hidden doesn’t mean your story is on pause.

In fact, some of the most powerful things God does begin in obscurity.

Think about Moses—40 years tending sheep in the wilderness before he ever stood before Pharaoh.

Think about David—anointed king, but back in the field with sheep while his brothers went off to war.

Think about Mary—chosen to carry the Son of God, but living in quiet, ordinary obedience in a small town.

Think about Jesus—30 years of obscurity before 3 years of ministry. Even He lived in hiddenness before stepping into the public eye.

So if your obedience right now looks like quiet faithfulness—if it looks like wiping tables, or changing diapers, or opening the Word when your soul feels dry, or saying no to sin even when it’s lonely—don’t despise that.

That kind of obedience is spiritual formation. It’s resistance to the rush and noise of this world. It’s planting seeds that will grow deep roots and, eventually, healthy fruit.

And one day, you may look back and realize: those quiet seasons were where the most important things happened. Not the visible moments, but the formative ones.

I’ll leave you with one more Scripture, from Zechariah 4:10:

“Do not despise these small beginnings, for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin.”

Let that settle in for a second. The Lord rejoices. Not when the thing is finished, not when the platform is built, not when the results roll in—but when the work begins. When the first step of obedience is taken. When the roots go deep. When the heart quietly says, “Yes, Lord.”

So don’t give up. Keep going. Keep obeying. Keep saying yes to Jesus in the small, ordinary, hidden things. He sees it. He is shaping you. And one day, you will see the fruit of your faithfulness.

Thanks for spending this time with me today. I hope this episode reminded you that you don’t need to be loud to be faithful. You don’t need to be visible to be valuable. And you don’t need to be in control to be deeply anchored in Christ.

If this resonated, take a few minutes to sit quietly after this ends. Ask the Holy Spirit, “Where are you calling me to stay faithful—even when no one else sees?” Maybe even write it down. Or pray through it with someone.

And if you know someone who’s quietly obeying God—maybe a parent, a volunteer, a friend in the trenches—send this to them. Encourage them. Remind them that they’re not unseen.

Until next time—stay faithful in the quiet, stay rooted in Christ, and remember:

Small ripples can make a big impact—go make yours.