A few years before becoming a mom, I felt like God was asking me to lay down what my life had been "career-wise." I’m in a very different place now than I was during the first decade and a half of adulthood.
Back then, I was in full-time ministry. Life was fast-paced and full—lots of people, visits, cultural experiences, events, prayer meetings, writing newsletters, speaking, traveling. It was such a huge gift to have those years and I loved them too. If we're honest, nothing we do in life is ever totally pure. A big part of my heart genuinely loved Jesus and served from that place. But there were also parts of me that craved approval—that loved the ministry spotlight, loved having people read my newsletters and posts. Looking back now, I know that serving overseas and then in some ministries back here in the States was the story God had for me in those seasons.
There's nothing about that that I can really boast in about those years though. Like some messy, carrot-shaving covered little kids I once saw in a kitchen who'd been given carrot peelers to "help" make dinner because they just wanted to be with their mom, Jesus let me be with Him. It was the mom who was really making the dinner, and it was Jesus who was really doing any of the work in building His kingdom in hearts. Jesus did just as much in those years in changing my own messy heart and graciously knew and picked the setting I needed to be in in order for Him to shepherd and care for me in a way that could be fruitful.
Over time, God gently but clearly asked me to lay all of that down. As I entered a new season a few years ago—newly married, in a new city, at a new church—it was a humbling shift. Instead of public ministry, God invited me to serve Him in ways only He could see. No spotlight. No titles. Just laying things at His feet without an identity tied to a ministry role.
Honestly? That’s been harder for me than I’d like to admit. Being in a new city with a new church and community, becoming a wife and mom, has exposed prideful and selfish mixed motives in my heart—even in good desires like wanting to serve in ministry. There’s often this lingering fear: “What do people think of me now? Do I still have their approval like I did when my life seemed more exciting and fruitful?”
There’s been this felt need to explain who I was before—to subtly make sure people know about the “important” things I’ve done. And I have to ask myself: Why does that matter so much? Who cares what anyone thinks or approves of except Jesus, my Audience of One? He sees and knows it all—the good, the bad, the ugly, and the being-slowly-transformed parts of my heart.
There's so much of my heart that still struggles with pride and selfishness, wanting my own glory. In this new season, God is kindly showing me so many ways I've been self-absorbed and unaware of others. It's cringy. I need His shepherding care to continue to change me into someone who loves more purely like He does.
Now, my days are filled with online grocery orders and making meals to feed our family, bottles, therapy appointments, nap times and cuddles with our sweet daughter Eden, who has special needs. It’s not the life script I imagined, but it’s the one God graciously knew, picked, and is writing for us- once again shepherding and caring for us in the way that He sees will be most fruitful.
My husband and I had thought and prayed before we were married about serving together in ministry, maybe abroad. But life has twists and turns. For so many reasons, I'm so incredibly grateful that we get to live here in northern Alabama, one reason of which is access to resources and care for Eden.
What if we live here forever and are never in a vocational ministry again? Would that be okay? Can I be content with this story God is writing, even when it looks so different from what I might have chosen in my younger years of missionary fervor?
This new season is a gift—limitations and all- and I genuinely love it. I'm learning to see the beauty in not being in the seat of going but in the seat of sending, praying for, and encouraging others in ministry. One of our pastors at our church who knows many aspects of our story and was the one who married us, recently said something that really encouraged me about the limitations and uncertainties that feel specifically nuanced to us. “The unique script God is writing for your family is for your good and for His glory.” It's safe for me to submit to this.
There’s peace and joy for me in trusting that. Younger, more dogmatic me had a much narrower view of what it meant to be all in on following Jesus, living radically. It probably involved living overseas as a more elite option (cringy to admit), being in full-time ministry, and embracing a simpler lifestyle. I still love those things and I celebrate for my friends who have that as their current story. I don’t think I honestly had categories though in my younger years for what it might look like if God planted me back in the States and in a role that wasn't full-time ministry, or blessed me with things like our crazy story of buying our comfortably large house for less than we could’ve purchased a smaller one. I’m learning that a theology of sacrifice and suffering has to be coupled with a theology of His goodness and blessings—otherwise, pride festers. There is humility in receiving whatever He gives, resting in His work, resting in our limitations.
So even though this season looks vastly different from when I lived in Africa or Orlando, single and constantly on the go, the heart of Jesus’ call remains the same. He calls me to the humble worship of loving Him with all of my heart, soul, mind, and strength.
In this hidden season, I’m learning to “waste time” just being with Jesus in the mundane moments.
This quietness and stillness with Jesus, knowing and trusting Him, being loved and loving Him is the spring from which any service that bears real fruit overflows. Sometimes that fruit is visible to others; sometimes it’s just for Him, laid at His feet.
One day, we’ll all lay our crowns at His feet—no matter where we served, what roles we held, or how we earned those crowns. We’ll lay them down and boast only in Him. And all that we will want to do will be to cry out in the humble worship of overwhelming love “Holy, holy, holy is the Lamb.” And that will be enough.
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His Glory and My Good- CityAlight
Welcome to Delaware- Watermark
The Mission- Steve Green
We Fall Down- Chris Tomlin
Captivate Us- Christy Nockels
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