Oh how funny God’s timing is… I began writing this back in January, but I never quite got around to finishing or posting it. When I set out writing it earlier this year, the following was the first paragraph:
This post feels a bit different from the others that I have posted. Usually, I try and find some sort of devotional-like style to work within that shares a message or lesson that I have learned or have been learning. That is not as much the case in this one. See, I have some things that I need to get off my chest, and at the same time have a testimony that I know I need to share. So this is not so much a lesson, but honestly, this is just plainly and simply- my story. It’s my tale of the faithfulness of God and His ability and willingness to turn everything around if we are just willing to take that next step in humble obedience… Maybe it’s not even for anyone to hear, maybe I simply just needed to write it. I don’t know the answer, but I am just thankful that He does.
Ultimately, this post is still quite simply, a story of my last year, but it’s also more than that. As I write this now, I do see a clear strand of messages woven through the experiences and opportunities. I see instances where He took my smallest, most seemingly mundane answers of ‘yes,’ alongside the ones that felt like they were fundamentally shifting the very ground I was walking on, and He showed me the sheer power and redemption that exists in the presence of obedience. Just when I thought I was simply telling a story, He still wanted to subvert my expectations and teach me a lesson in return. Though, I’ll get to that shortly.
First, I have to tell you the story…
My family raised my brother and I as Christians, and we always attended nondenominational churches. When I was in fifth grade, a late night phone call between myself, my mom, and my Uncle Craig led to my salvation and acceptance of Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and Savior. In sixth grade, I was baptized, making public my commitment to God and a public declaration of my faith itself. I attended church camp many summers, whether affiliated with my church at the time or not, and was active in youth groups at certain periods of my life. All in all, I was raised a Christian and made the conscious decision to be a born again believer.
That all makes it sound so simple though, so easy, so straightforward, so consistent. The truth is far different than the carefully-crafted synopsis. But isn’t that always the case with life?
I am not secretive about my personal story of losing a best friend of mine to cancer my freshman year of high school, and part of my openness about it is that that was a season in which I found myself experiencing great intimacy with my Creator. My faith became so incredibly strong after losing her, and a good bit of that was because I knew that that would be the one thing that would help get me through such heartbreak. I felt so on fire for the Lord, sharing personal testimonies and devotional-style writings of messages I was learning through my own walk. That fire would start to dim though, as I let other aspects of life take priority and precedence over my own faith.
At a certain point in life, your faith has to become your own, not one that is curated by your parents or family. When it was on my own shoulders to pursue a relationship with Christ, I will confess, I majorly dropped the ball. I did not go to church regularly, I did not read my Bible, and I was very much a lukewarm Christian. I would listen to worship music at times, and still prayed, wrote about Him and what He would teach me and such, but I did not prioritize His presence in my life or carve out any amount of time or focus. I was lacking community in an earthly sense, and intimacy in a spiritual one. For years, I would seek out and yearn for genuine community, but I always fell short or struggled to find the right fit. I would pray for God to bring me home, but I honestly didn’t know just what that would look like.
I love the story of the prodigal son. I love how he was welcomed in by his father with open arms, regardless of how he’d strayed. I also love how the father ran to meet him, not even making the son run the whole way alone. Try as I might, I just simply cannot even begin to fathom the fact that the creator of the universe feels that way about us. I know it’s the truth, but it’s another thing to fully wrap my mind around and truly comprehend that unbelievable level of love. I spent years blowing Him off, placing temporary earthly desires above a relationship with Him, yet He still not only welcomed me in, but He was all the while loving and seeking me out. How mind-blowing is it that the Almighty God knows us, loves us, and desires and seeks out such intimacy with us.
Well, 2020 was my prodigal son moment, it was my return home. In many ways, 2020 was a dumpster fire of a year. So much of what we considered normal was stripped away, and we were left reeling, trying to make sense of and the best of these newfound ‘unprecedented times.’ One thing it taught me though, is that sometimes you need to have everything stripped away to appreciate what you have, and sometimes you need silence to hear the voice of the divine.
One evening in May, I felt this overwhelming conviction that I needed to go to church that coming Sunday. Going to church certainly isn’t an odd thing in and of itself, but at this point, it had been years since I had genuinely attended a church service on a Sunday morning just of my own accord. There also was a special caveat, we were still in the midst of a lockdown brought about by the Coronavirus pandemic. Despite these reasons, and several others, that my brain used to try and deflect the thought, I knew with complete certainty that the excuses were simply just that, excuses.
So I stopped fighting it. I searched up churches that were open in person, because I not only felt that I needed to attend church, but I felt very specifically that I needed to go in-person, and alone. Again, this complicated matters. Very few churches were even open in person. When I searched online though, I saw that Highlands Church, one I had attended way back in the day, was open in person. I knew that that was my Sunday-morning destination.
I had now decided to pull the trigger and go that Sunday to Highlands, but then there was that second stipulation: I needed to go alone. That part piqued my bit of social anxiety and led to many personal pep talks before that fateful Sunday would roll around.
Even in my lukewarm season, though, I knew better than to challenge a directive from God. I bit the bullet, woke up early, and went to church, alone, on a normal Sunday for the first time in a long, long while.
The details of that one service are not necessarily important, but what is is the reality of what had occurred. Like the lost sheep in Luke chapter 15, I had a shepherd who refused to give up searching for me. God did not give up on his wandering sheep, but instead He left the 99, sought out the lost, and rejoiced when He found the wanderer, when He found me.
4 “What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he has lost one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the open country, and go after the one that is lost, until he finds it? 5 And when he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders, rejoicing. 6 And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and his neighbors, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’ 7 Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.
Luke 15: 4-7
What I think is just so cool is how God orchestrates the story so perfectly that looking back, we can see a clear path of divinity and divine providence over moments that we did not see at the time.
I had one of those moments this past spring. See, not only did that one church service serve as a ‘found moment,’ but it didn’t stop there. I did not just attend and say “okay that was cool God, thanks! Let’s do this again in six months!” Nope. Like a shepherd, He found me, and then He proceeded to guide me to that next step, again and again. He led me from a season of desolate and desert faith to one of the richest that I have ever experienced in present day. The steps were not always easy, though.
We established above that I tend to oftentimes get anxious in various social settings, most notably the ones in which I do not know anybody there. Going to that church service felt like a massive step of faith, but He had bigger and better plans. I began attending regularly, and then I started getting this new conviction: You need to sign up for a small group. I’m sorry, God, what?! I haven’t been in one of those consistently since middle school, and I did not know a single college-aged human at this church. Translation: I would be walking into a group of strangers as ‘The New Kid.’
Queue my internal panic.
I obeyed, though, and I signed up and showed up to the first small group meeting for college students/young adults. The moment I stepped through the door, I felt a sense of peace. The leaders, Caleb and Becca, immediately made me feel like a part of the family, and the other young adults acted like I had been there forever; there was no ounce of that awkward odd-man-out feeling that the circumstances could have, and in all reality, should have, yielded. But at the end of the day, I had listened to God’s direction, and I felt the positive consequence of that obedience. Each week, I would show up and attend small group, and each week, I felt my personal relationship with God be strengthened and nurtured. I had found a home of believers in this group, and in Highlands Church.
This group and the spiritual fellowship that it brought me became such an important part of my life, and I looked forward to Thursday nights and Sunday mornings more than ever. I even missed my senior year sorority formal for ‘chicken nugget Friendsgiving’ night as a small group- that is dedication, right?! Little did I know that that night that seemed so silly in theory would be one filled with deep theological discussion that I still think and ponder on. Again, God is so cool.
Fast forward to the end of the semester, I was asked if I would be interested in helping lead the middle school girls at our church. Me? Someone who is nowhere near a theological expert, had just gotten back to regular church attendance in the last year, and had never done anything of the sort? I wanted to say, “God, are you sure I’m the right girl for this task?”
What I did say: Yes.
Thank God that I did. Helping to lead these precious students has been one of the biggest blessings, and I swear that they do more for me and my own life than I am doing for them by serving them. Each week, it is the absolute highlight getting to talk about the Good Lord with them and help lead them in their own spiritual journey. We even got to go on a winter retreat that was miserable when it came to the weather, but absolutely life-changing spiritually for the kids and us leaders as well. I got to lead a small group of my girls and other precious gals from other churches, and it was the baptism by fire that I needed to dive in as a small group leader.
And a small group leader I have been ever since, co-leading with the most amazing, spirit-filled and spirit-led women and men, and this was all fine and dandy, and then God said, “Let’s take it one step further.”
Each Sunday evening at small group, one of the pastors would typically lead with the message (as both our main pastor and student pastor were middle school boys leaders), and then we split by gender for small group discussion. A couple weeks into the semester, though, I got a text from the student pastor asking if I would lead the message for that coming Sunday.
I love public speaking, but I had never preached or done anything of the sort, so I excitedly, reluctantly, and expectantly accepted. Thankfully for my amateur self, we follow a curriculum for small group messages, so the general message was already written down with the big idea they wanted the kids to grasp, and then whoever presents it chooses how to deliver it, how to relate it to them, what personal story they want to share, and so on and so forth.
I look at the message for my week, and what do you know… It’s about Luke Chapter 15, the lost sheep. The big message is that Jesus notices you. The message was the one kicking off the whole month’s series all focused on the idea of being lost and found.
Are you joking, God? I mean, I just can’t make this stuff up.
In the curriculum, it said to tell a story of a time you felt spiritually lost. Well, I certainly had a story about that. I was nervous, though, to tell this story. I was scared that the girls would think less of me, that I would be looked at as an inadequate leader, or that it just simply wouldn’t resonate with these girls. But despite apprehension, I told the story. God had appointed me to that position for such a time as this, right? Who am I to disregard one of my favorite verses, and the one that this very blog was inspired by?
“Who knows if perhaps you were made queen for just such a time as this?”
Esther 4:14
So I shared my story and let God speak through me. It felt liberating. It felt amazing to be able to look these students in the eye and tell them what a good shepherd He is after experiencing that exact relationship with Him for myself so recently. I also found that the girls did not see me as inadequate to lead or spiritually weak for doing so, but instead that I was relatable, that I was honest with them and with myself, and that I had walked a path that perhaps some of them were wrestling with for themselves. The truth of the Christian experience and life is that it is not linear, and we are not failures when one season looks a bit different, a little dimmer than the last. What is important is that we don’t stay in those dim seasons, but we pursue the light, pursue His face, knowing that He will meet us and lead us out of whatever darkness and hard times we’re facing.
I mentioned earlier that I can look back and see God’s hand in all of this, and this is why I say that. July 3, 2017, I wrote a post on here entitled “To Bare a Soul…,” which was all about how I was feeling spiritually lost and was seeking community with fellow believers and intimacy with God. In that post, “To bare a soul…” I referenced the prodigal son in Luke Chapter 15, a story from the same chapter I stood up and taught on to my students just last semester. In that post, I talked about my wrestling with faith, and now I look back and see the result of that wrestling, and it has made my walk with Christ all the much stronger. How amazing is it that we serve a God who does not balk at our questions and challenges, but instead welcomes them?
Flash forward to today, as I write this later, edited version of this post, I am amazed at all he has done with a simple ‘yes.’ A year really can change so much.
So why do I say all this? Why do I tell the world how I spent a good portion of my life not attending church or being a lukewarm Christian? Why do I tell you of my amazing experience with my now church home? Do I do it to hype up Highlands? No, though I do love my church, that is not my main purpose in sharing this. Do I do it to hype myself up and all that I am fortunate to be a part of as a result? Absolutely not!
The main desire of my heart in sharing this is that someone, somewhere is perhaps in my position, maybe one similar or exactly the same, where God is asking something of you: Just take the next step. He is calling on you to step out in faith and obedience and give Him your simplest “yes.” It is scary, it’s hard, but it is worth it! I promise. I’m living proof.
Another reason that I choose to share all this: To let you know that you are not alone. I am a BIG believer in the power of stories and their ability to foster such great connection. When we tell our stories, soon, we realize that some of these harder experiences are not unique to us. We are not alone in these struggles, but they are in fact universal ones that so many others have walked and are working to this day. By sharing our stories, we have a moment of “wait, you too?” and soon enough, we realize how supported and seen we are in these struggles.
One last story that I want to tell about this… Maybe a year and a half/two years ago, I received a Direct Message from a friend from high school. She sent me the sweetest message about how I was inspiring her as a Christian woman. Her words were beautiful, lifting me up and speaking such encouragement over my life, though I must admit that while I was incredibly honored and thankful for the message, I also felt like such a fraud. At that time, I was still living my lukewarm life, but on the outside I was rocking it out. Let me tell you this, perception is a liar (and social media is the biggest perpetrator of those lies). So again, why do I say this? Well, I share this to say, finally, that everything and everyone is not as it seems. That person that you see as a “model Christian,” they might be breaking down behind the scenes, so please, never judge yourself by what the world tells you you should be. You will lose the battle every time striving to meet the standards that others carefully curate for themselves. Hold yourself up next to God’s word, His standards, the truth that you were made in His image and are beautifully and wonderfully made, despite any mistakes you have made or times you have walked away. There lies your identity and your value.
You are not as alone as you think you are, in this place, in this season, in this life. So pretty please, take it from someone who has been there, done that… just come back home. Don’t fight it. If He is calling you, He will equip you.
Just come home.
Crowned for a Purpose 