It’s 5:30 on a weeknight. You signed up for the evening session weeks ago. The day was long, it’s raining, and the couch is right there. Nobody would really blame you if you texted that something came up.
That moment is where the meaning of “let your yes be yes” gets tested. Not in a Bible study, but in a driveway with your keys in your hand.
I spent a whole chapter of my book for volunteers on something that sounds too simple to deserve one: show up. Be where you said you’d be. Do what you said you’d do. When the job goes long, stay. When you’re tired and you’d genuinely rather be anywhere else, go anyway. It’s simple. It is not easy.
What Jesus meant by yes and no
“Let what you say be simply ‘Yes’ or ‘No’; anything more than this comes from evil” (Matthew 5:37).
Jesus said this in the Sermon on the Mount, in a section about oath-taking. In the first century, people swore by all kinds of things to signal that a particular promise was especially binding. Swear by the temple, and maybe you could wriggle out. Swear by the gold of the temple, and now you meant it.
Jesus cuts through the whole system. A person of integrity doesn’t need special words to make a promise stick, because their ordinary words are already reliable. Every yes carries the same weight.
We don’t swear oaths much anymore, but we have our own version. “I’ll try to make it.” “Put me down as a maybe.” “I’m definitely coming this time.” We add qualifiers to our commitments so we have a way out, and we add emphasis to the ones we actually intend to keep. Either way, we’ve admitted that a plain yes from us doesn’t mean much.
Your yes is holding someone’s day together
Here’s what I want volunteers to picture. At The Garage, the person whose car is in our bay arranged a ride to get there. They may have rearranged their day, found someone to watch their kids, or called in a favor. All of that was built on the assumption that the people who said they’d be there would actually be there.
When you don’t show up, it isn’t just an inconvenience to the ministry. It’s a broken promise to a person who was counting on you.
That’s true wherever you serve. The kids’ ministry leader who planned for four adults and got two. The meal delivery that didn’t arrive. The family waiting on a ride to church. Your yes is load-bearing, even when you can’t see what it’s holding up.
Reliability reflects God’s own character
Paul makes an interesting move in 2 Corinthians 1:17–20. He’s been accused of being flaky about his travel plans, and he defends his reliability by pointing to God’s. Every one of God’s promises, he says, finds its “Yes” in Christ.
That’s the deepest reason showing up matters. We follow a God whose word never fails. He has never once said he would be there and then not come. People who belong to a God like that should become people whose word can be trusted too. When you keep a commitment that costs you something, you’re reflecting, in a small way, the faithfulness of God.
That’s why I call reliability a spiritual discipline. It’s not just good manners or good management. It’s one of the ways your faith becomes visible. Showing up is integrity made visible.
Habits become character
The other thing I’ve learned is that showing up is formative. The habits you build now become the character you live in later.
Tim started volunteering with us at twelve. He’s eighteen now. When sessions run late and a weaker volunteer would invent an excuse to leave, Tim stays. He’s learning, at the age when it matters most, that his word means something. He’s building a foundation, and houses built on foundations like that don’t fall when the storms come.
The same is true at forty or seventy. Every time you keep a small promise when it’s inconvenient, you become a little more the kind of person who keeps promises. Every time you bail, the opposite happens. There’s no neutral.
How to build a yes people can count on
A few practical suggestions:
- Say yes less often, and mean it more. A reliable yes starts with an honest no. If you know a commitment is unrealistic, decline it up front instead of dropping it later.
- Decide before the moment comes. Settle ahead of time what counts as a real reason to miss (illness, a true emergency) and what doesn’t (tired, a better offer). You’ll make a better decision at noon than at 5:30.
- Picture the person, not the task. When you’re tempted to skip, think about who is waiting on the other end.
- If you truly can’t come, say so early and directly. Communicate like someone who knows their absence matters, because it does.
- Stay when it runs long, if you can. Some of the most important service happens after the scheduled end time.
None of this means you can never miss. Life happens, and a healthy ministry has grace for that. The goal isn’t perfection. It’s a pattern where your word is so dependable that people can build plans on it.
One question to ask
Here’s the question I’d leave with you, and it’s one of the discussion questions in the book: Is your yes reliable enough that people can build plans on it?
If the honest answer is “not yet,” start small. Pick one commitment this week and keep it exactly as you said you would, even if it costs you something.
This idea, and the volunteers who taught it to me, is at the heart of Part Three of Full Service. If you lead a serving team, the leader guide includes this chapter’s discussion questions, ready for your next team meeting.