Skip to main content

Called to Serve

Listen…

Yesterday, when I walked through my door,
something in me broke open—
not gently,
but like a flood 

that could no longer be restrained.


No language could carry it.
Only tears—raw, unfiltered,
the kind that rise 

from the soul’s deepest chambers.


I released it all.
The quiet disappointments I buried,
the subtle wounds of disrespect,
the heaviness of discontentment 

I carried longer than I should have.


I laid it down—fully.


For so long,
I’ve been measuring my life by missteps,
replaying failures

like they were sacred scripts,
standing knee-deep in what went wrong,
as if pain was proof of my worth.


But today…
something shifted.

I turned the lens.
I recalculated.
I gathered the evidence of grace.


And what I found—
brought me to tears all over again,
but this time, they were holy.


The seeds I’ve been entrusted to nurture—
they are not just growing…
they are flourishing.


Those once hidden in the shadows—
timid, uncertain, unseen—
are now rising.


There is a fire in them.
A confidence that cannot be silenced.
A boldness that moves with purpose.

They are no longer searching for direction—
they are walking in it.


And I know…
this is not by accident.

But because I leaned—

consistently—into God.


In uncertainty, I sought Him.
In silence, I trusted Him.
And in return,
He poured wisdom without limit.


What I witnessed in them
was more than growth—
it was fruit.


Living, breathing evidence
that God was not only present,
but active…
intentional…
near.


His footprints were everywhere.


He didn’t just order my steps—
He made a way for them.


He prepared victories
they didn’t even know 

they were walking into.


And I watched—
in awe,
in reverence,
in love—

as they stretched their wings
and took flight.


Like birds leaving the nest,
not in fear,
but in divine timing.


And just when my heart 

felt too full to hold more—
one of them reached back.


With trust.
With vulnerability.
With something sacred.


And in that moment,
I realized—

I am not just a guide.
I am a refuge.
A safe place to land.


An answered prayer
in someone else’s life.


What they may never fully see
is how often I carry them to God.


How their names are spoken 

in quiet moments.


How I ask—daily—

“Lord, stand in the gap for them.
Cover what they cannot see.
Protect what they cannot yet defend.
Guide what they do not yet understand.”


And today,
my heart overflows with gratitude.


God, thank You—
for trusting me with what matters to you.


For allowing me to see people
not through my own limited vision,
but through Your eyes—

eyes full of grace,
of purpose,
of possibility.


Thank You for letting me serve,
for letting me lead,
for letting me love
in a way that reflects your light.



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Broken Covenant

Once upon a time— I wanted to believe something was real so desperately that I silenced the Spirit within me just to keep the illusion alive. I saw every red flag— not as warnings, but as tests of how much  I was willing to endure to feel chosen. I asked no questions because truth was already whispering, and I feared what obedience would cost me. So I made a covenant with denial— calling lies “grace,” and confusion “patience,” because the truth felt too vast, too holy, too disruptive to the future I had built in my mind. I clung to potential like it was promise, and mistook absence for peace. Yet the weight of it— this thing I called love— crushed my spirit daily. Still, desperation dressed itself as loyalty and convinced me to stay. And it didn’t get better. It decayed. Quietly at first… then unmistakably. Each time God unveiled truth, I chose the comfort of shadows over the calling of light. I pleaded. I prayed. I begged— not for revelation, but for permission to remain where I w...
Post a Comment
Read more

From Chaos to Calm

After a while… the need to be heard at full volume begins to dissolve. The rooftops grow silent. The flames you once fed with trembling hands no longer feel like power— only exhaustion. What you burned never built a home. And somewhere along the way, you realize— not every echo returns, not every seed takes root, not every mountain was yours to climb. The grace you poured out like water in a desert, the love you offered with open, unguarded hands— it did not come back the way you imagined. And still… you are here. So instead of fighting what refuses to bend, you loosen your grip. Not in defeat— but in awakening. You release the need to be answered, to be chosen, to be understood by those who never learned your language. Your hands, once reaching outward, begin to rise— not in desperation, but in devotion. Upward. Open. Steady. God… I see You now in the quiet I once avoided. I hear You not in the thunder— but in the space where my striving used to live. And I am ready. Something within ...
Post a Comment
Read more

“Let God Do The Heavy Lifting”

What if we told God the truth— not the polished version, not the palatable version, but the raw, unfiltered ache of what we  really  want? What if we sat in expectation— not clenched in frustration, not counting the silence as absence, but trusting that unseen hands are already at work? What if we leaned back— not in defeat, but in surrender— and allowed God to step forward into the places we keep trying to control? What if we stopped responding out of fear, reacting out of wounds, reaching for everything except the One who holds it all? What if we let go… and let God do the heavy lifting? Because real transformation doesn’t begin in striving— it begins in honesty. In sitting still long enough to face the truth of where we are without rushing to escape it. Naomi pushed people away, not because she didn’t need love, but because grief convinced her she was too heavy to hold. She believed her pain would be too much for anyone to sit with. But God will always send a Ruth— someone ...
Post a Comment
Read more