There’s a saying that I’ve come to appreciate more and more. It’s “Work with the willing.” It sounds almost too simple. But I think it might be one of the wisest pieces of advice I’ve ever received.
We waste so much energy trying to get everyone on board, especially in groups we’re involved with. We pitch an idea. We tweak it. We wait for consensus. We re-pitch it. We agonise over the one or two people who don’t get it, or don’t want to be part of it, or who seem set on resisting change.
But the truth is, not everyone needs to come on board in the beginning. Sometimes, all you need is a few willing people – and the courage to begin.
This truth came back to me recently while I was reflecting on one of the Gospel stories where Jesus sends seventy followers to prepare the way in the towns and villages ahead of him. Jesus tells his followers to travel light. No bag. No spare shoes. No fuss. He urges them to accept whatever hospitality is offered. If people receive them, great. Stay, eat, bless. If they don’t welcome them, move on, shaking the dust from your feet as they do so.
Jesus doesn’t say to his followers, “Win them over.” He doesn’t say, “Make your case again.” He doesn’t say, “Wait until the conditions are right.” He says: “Go. Look for people of peace. Work with the willing.”
“Work with the willing.” is a remarkably freeing message, but also, a challenging one, because, if you’re like me, you probably take rejection a little too personally. Most of us do. Whether it’s someone brushing off an idea we’ve put forward, making us feel we’re not being heard, or it’s not being invited to something, it hurts. We want people to say yes. We want them to see the value of what we’re offering.
The longer I live, the more I see how important it is to let go of rejection quickly, and instead pour energy into the people who are open to us and willing and ready to act. That’s where movement happens. That’s where change begins. It’s also where hope lives.
Don’t Pack the Piano
I was reminded of this again when revisiting the tragic tale of Burke and Wills; the explorers who set out in 1860 to cross the continent from south to north. It’s a story of incredible ambition, tragic decisions, and an almost comical failure to travel light.
You might already know the gist of the story: the expedition was lavishly funded. They packed over 20 tonnes of equipment. Among the items were crates of food, a cedar dining table, chairs, a Chinese gong, tonnes of firewood, and believe it or not, a piano.
They were heading into the unknown, yes; but with so much stuff that weighed them down, slowed them down, and ultimately contributed to their downfall.
They also refused to listen to the Aboriginal people, who knew the land, its seasons, its food and water sources.
In the end, Burke and Wills perished, surrounded by help they didn’t trust and food they didn’t recognise.
The only explorer to survive the return journey was John King, who accepted help from the Yandruwandha people, who nursed him, fed him, and sheltered him until he was rescued.
There’s a powerful lesson in this. Sometimes, our pride, our need for control, our over-preparedness, or our unwillingness to trust others can destroy us; or at least wear us out.
Personal Journeys and Personal Baggage
Of course, not all of us are literal explorers. But we all face uncertain journeys.
There are the obvious ones:
- a new job
- a move to a new town
- a health diagnosis
- moving into Aged Care
- the death of a loved one.
But there are also more subtle journeys:
- changing who we think we are
- adjusting our expectations
- learning to live with a limitation
- facing our own mortality with a little more grace.
In each of these examples, the temptation is to overpack.
We carry guilt, fear, the need to get everything right, old arguments, “what if” scenarios, even the voices of people who’ve long since moved on.
The goal isn’t to carry everything.
It’s to travel well.
And to trust that if we are open, we will be met with help, with kindness, with grace.
So, What Are You Carrying?
Maybe that’s the real question.
Not, “What’s your next great adventure?”
But, “What are you carrying around that you don’t need anymore?”
And also, “Who are the open and willing people around you?”
“Where can you stop striving for universal agreement, and just start walking with those who are ready?”
You don’t need a piano.
You don’t need every answer.
You don’t need everyone to say yes.
You just need enough room in your hands and heart
to receive what’s waiting on the road ahead.
And yes—some of us are rooted in place.
We live in small towns, or small churches,
where moving on isn’t about geography,
but about letting go of resistance,
refocusing our energy,
and pouring ourselves into those who are ready.
Even when we can’t leave, we can still choose:
Where will we plant our hope?
With whom will we walk?
And if we’re wrong, if it’s not the right time or we end up in an unwelcoming place, Jesus says:
“Don’t be discouraged.
Shake the dust off your feet. Move on.
There are willing people up the road.
Maybe they’re just a few doors down.
Maybe they’re already beside you.
That’s the gospel, and it’s good news.
Brian Spencer, Minister, Waranga Uniting Churches
Questions for reflection
- What am I carrying right now—physically, emotionally, spiritually—that I may not need?
- Who in my life is willing right now—willing to try, to listen, to walk together?
- Where am I spending too much energy trying to convince those who are not ready?
- What does it mean to “shake the dust off” when I’m committed to staying in place?