Why Christian Obedience Is Not Blind—and Never Was
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Reflections on a Scene from Essex Dogs
Dan Jones, one of today’s most engaging modern historians, is known for his riveting non-fiction works on medieval history. So, when he turned his attention to fiction with Essex Dogs: A Novel, I was eager to see how his storytelling would translate to a new medium. As expected, the novel didn’t disappoint, combining gritty realism with compelling characters. Yet what struck me most was a particular scene in the book that, against the backdrop of medieval warfare, offers a moment of quiet reflection. It’s a scene that resonates with profound spiritual depth, showing how timeless truths can emerge in the unlikeliest of places.
The moment revolves around Loveday, a central character in the story. Amid the chaos of medieval battle, Loveday chooses to pause rather than act, embracing stillness in a moment of uncertainty. The passage describing this is deceptively simple but rich in meaning:
“So Loveday did the only thing he could do. As he always did when in doubt. He waited. He listened. He controlled his breath. And he kept his eyes open. He stayed still so long that in his crouch the muscles in his lower legs began to cramp. He wiggled his toes inside his boots to try and keep them from going numb. He gritted his teeth. And eventually his patience was rewarded. Briefly, right on the edge of his vision, he saw something move.”
On the surface, this is a pragmatic survival tactic. Loveday pauses, gathers himself, and waits for clarity. Yet there’s much more beneath the surface. His choice to stop, breathe, and observe mirrors spiritual practices rooted in trust, patience, and attentiveness. In this moment of stillness, Loveday offers a model of faith that is as relevant now as it would have been in the medieval world.
Loveday’s stillness is a striking counterpoint to the frantic action and violence surrounding him. While others might panic or charge forward blindly, he chooses to trust the process, even at the cost of physical discomfort. This deliberate pause evokes the spiritual teaching found in Psalm 46:10: “Be still and know that I am God.” Stillness here is not passivity but an act of trust—an acknowledgment that clarity often arises when we surrender control and allow ourselves to wait.
In the Christian tradition, waiting in silence is a recurring theme. Whether it is the Israelites waiting on God in the wilderness or the Apostles in the upper room after Christ’s ascension, these moments of quiet anticipation are often where faith grows. Loveday’s decision to remain still, despite the uncertainty, reflects this timeless spiritual wisdom. He exemplifies the patience described in Isaiah 40:31: “But those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength.”
One of the most striking details in the passage is Loveday’s focus on controlling his breath. This practical measure to calm himself also carries deep theological resonance. In Genesis 2:7, God breathes life into Adam, marking the intimate connection between human existence and the divine. Later, in John 20:22, the risen Christ breathes on His disciples, giving them the Holy Spirit. Breath, then, becomes a symbol of God’s sustaining power and presence.
This connection between breath and spirituality is also reflected in the ancient prayer practices of the Church. In the Eastern Christian tradition, for example, the Jesus Prayer—“Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner”—is often synchronized with one’s breathing. This union of physical rhythm and prayer cultivates a sense of inner stillness and attentiveness to God. When Loveday centers himself by focusing on his breath, he echoes this profound link between the physical and the spiritual, between the ordinary act of breathing and the presence of the divine.
Another powerful element in this scene is Loveday’s vigilance. He keeps his eyes open, alert to the slightest movement, even as discomfort sets in. This watchfulness calls to mind Jesus’s admonition to His disciples in the Garden of Gethsemane: “Watch and pray that you may not undergo the test” (Matthew 26:41). Spiritual vigilance is a recurring theme in the Gospels, reminding believers to remain awake and attentive to God’s presence, even in the midst of challenges.
Loveday’s patience is rewarded when he finally notices a small movement at the edge of his vision. This moment is reminiscent of Elijah’s encounter with God in 1 Kings 19. Elijah expects God to appear in dramatic ways—through wind, earthquake, or fire—but instead, God’s presence is revealed in a “tiny whispering sound” (1 Kings 19:12). Similarly, Loveday’s attentiveness allows him to perceive something small and seemingly insignificant, yet it is precisely this detail that brings clarity and direction.
The scene also highlights the discomfort that often accompanies stillness. Loveday’s legs cramp, his toes go numb, and he grits his teeth to endure it. This physical struggle reflects the spiritual challenge of remaining patient and steadfast in times of uncertainty. St. Paul speaks to this in Romans 12:12: “Rejoice in hope, endure in affliction, persevere in prayer.” Faith is not always easy or comfortable; it often requires perseverance through difficulties, trusting that the effort will bear fruit.
Loveday’s endurance is a reminder that spiritual growth often happens in the midst of discomfort. Whether it is waiting for answers, persevering through trials, or simply holding still when every instinct urges us to act, faith demands resilience. This resilience is not passive but active, a deliberate choice to trust that God is at work even when the way forward is unclear.
What makes this moment in Essex Dogs so compelling is its ordinariness. There are no grand miracles or dramatic revelations. Loveday simply waits, breathes, watches, and endures—all very human actions that carry profound spiritual weight. This reflects a central truth of the Christian life: faith often shows up in the mundane and the ordinary.
In our daily lives, acts of trust, vigilance, and patience often feel small and insignificant. Yet it is in these quiet moments that faith takes root and grows. Loveday’s story reminds us that God’s presence is not always announced with fanfare; it often arrives subtly, like a faint movement at the edge of our vision.
In times of uncertainty or doubt, Loveday’s example offers a powerful lesson. When we feel stuck or unsure, we can pause, breathe, and watch, trusting that clarity will come in time. This is not a passive waiting but an active form of trust—faith that God is present even in the stillness.
Like Loveday, we are called to endure discomfort, remain attentive, and trust that our patience will be rewarded. In the unremarkable moments of our lives, we may find seeds of faith that, over time, grow into something greater. As St. Teresa of Calcutta once said, “Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies.”
Faith does not always arrive in dramatic gestures or certainties. More often, it begins as a quiet whisper, a subtle nudge, or a tiny movement at the edge of our vision. By cultivating stillness and trust, we create space for God to work in and through us, transforming the ordinary into the sacred.
The scene from Essex Dogs may be set in a medieval battlefield, but its lessons transcend time and place. Loveday’s choice to wait, breathe, and watch is a powerful image of faith—one that challenges us to embrace stillness in the midst of life’s chaos. In the quiet, God’s presence often becomes most apparent, offering us direction, hope, and grace. Through small acts of trust and patience, we open ourselves to the transformative power of faith, discovering that even in the stillness, God is at work.
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