The Cost & The Gain of Obedience

There is a version of following God that sounds clean and inspiring—but the real walk has weight.
It costs relationships. It costs familiarity. It costs belonging to places that once felt safe.

My walk with God has required separation.

Not because I became better than others, but because obedience demanded clarity.

What I Had to Release

Along the way, I had to let go of people, environments, and systems that were no longer aligned with where God was leading me.

Some of them looked spiritual.
Some of them felt like family.
Some of them were deeply personal.

There were churches that spoke often but bore little fruit.
There were belief systems that added structure but lacked the life of the Spirit.
There were relationships rooted in dependency, confusion, or emotional chaos.
There were people I loved—truly loved—who could not walk the road God placed before me.

Letting go wasn’t dramatic.
It wasn’t angry.
It was grief-filled, prayer-soaked obedience.

God didn’t ask me to hate anyone.
He asked me to stop clinging.

The Hidden Truth About Separation

Most people misunderstand separation.

God doesn’t remove people because they are evil.
He removes them because they are not assigned to the next season.

Some people are bridges.
Some are mirrors.
Some are warnings.
Some are lessons.

But none are meant to replace God.

When the Lord becomes first—not symbolically, but truly—everything else must either realign or fall away.

What I Gained

What I gained was not immediate comfort—but it was undeniable clarity.

I gained my true calling, no longer diluted by distraction.
I gained the Holy Spirit, not as theology, but as a living guide and daily companion.
I came to know Jesus rightly—not reduced to slogans, not filtered through institutions, but revealed through Scripture and obedience.

I gained a true home—not rooted in geography, but anchored in the promise of the New Jerusalem.
I found a Spirit-filled church that reveres God, teaches truth, and bears fruit.
I gained brothers rooted in Christ—men who pray, repent, lead, and walk humbly.

My physical home became something sacred.
It belongs to the Lord.
It carries peace.
It is guarded by obedience.

I came to understand the full counsel of God—not just the comforting parts, but the refining ones.
Not just grace, but holiness.
Not just mercy, but truth.

And then there was my assignment.

The Assignment

God didn’t give me a platform.
He gave me children.

Children in a juvenile detention center.
The Forgotten. The Broken. The Angry. The Numb.

I didn’t come to rescue them.
I came because I was sent.

They don’t need polished words.
They need presence.
They need Consistency.
Truth spoken without performance.

They recognize authenticity quickly—because many of them have never seen it.

In serving them, I understood something deeply:

God wasn’t preparing me for influence.
He was preparing me for obedience.

Where I Stand Now

I am set apart.

I am not behind.
I am positioned.

I am not grieving what I lost.
I am stewarding what I’ve been given.

I no longer measure my life by proximity to people, but by proximity to God.

The Closing Truth

I didn’t trade people for God.

I traded counterfeits for the real thing.

And I would do it again.

Because when you choose obedience, you may lose what is familiar—but you gain what is eternal.

And that exchange is worth everything.

My personal testimony By: Sokha Thorng