From The Vault.

Today’s post comes straight from ‘the vault’. It was originally posted in 2008 and has been edited for relevancy and clarity, because, well, I was even wordier in 2008 than I am in 2022. I hope it speaks to you today like it did to me!

“Come to me with your ears wide open. Listen, and you will find life.

I will make an everlasting covenant with you.

I will give you all the unfailing love I promised to David.

See how I used him to display my power among the peoples?

I made him a leader among the nations.

You also will command nations you do not know,

and peoples unknown to you will come running to obey, because I, the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, have made you glorious.”

Isaiah 55:3-5

Y’all, I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you that I don’t still struggle with questioning God.

I know, I know. So immature. Being raised in faith, I’ve never not known Jesus. I’ve spent more than half my life in ministry in some capacity. I’m supposed to be steady and rooted.

But here’s your girl, just peppering the good Lord with questions almost exactly like my 4-year-old when she hears the word ‘no’.

Can I just say that I’m really, really glad that I don’t have God’s job? I’d strike my own self down with lightning bolts, y’all.

Ministry is one of those places I get impatient and question-y. I’ve been blessed to serve in so many capacities – music, outreach, administration, leadership, teaching, mentoring, design, fundraising, and yes, a whole lot of peanut brittle – and work alongside some incredible people.

But in ministry, things often shift. Sometimes you’re right in the middle of serving, living, and loving and absolutely bursting with purpose.

And then sometimes, you’re sidelined for awhile. You don’t have a job to do. You don’t have the same sense of fulfillment. You might even feel empty or useless, because in your heart of hearts, you know you’re supposed to be doing something.

It’s me, y’all. I’m that ‘you’.

It’s hard for me to remember that ministry does not equal importance. It does not ensure relevance. It doesn’t even equal salvation.

It’s a journey of service to the kingdom of God, and it works in forward motion. Not necessarily upward motion. We grow through our experiences, we learn during the hard times, and we find that our most powerful messages of hope come from the most broken places of our story.

A lot like David did. He’s famous, obviously, but not necessarily for his prowess and leadership. He’s famous because of the grace God showed him when he humbled himself after his many indiscretions. He’s a repeat screw-up, tbh, and I like that about him because, well, it’s a lot like me.

But he wasn’t always the king who was afforded grace and mercy, even when he royally messed up. He was also a shepherd. A fugitive. A stranger in a foreign land. I mean, the guy spent a lot of time running for his life and living in caves.

Those moments, months, and years are where ministry is truly developed. Opportunities to strengthen your relationship with Jesus for you, which gives you the depth to lend strength to others in future days.

But if your heart’s cry is to move people towards Jesus and you’re about a million miles away from your purpose, it’s pretty normal to start tugging on God’s sleeve asking why and when and how.

David did that, too. I mean, have you read the Psalms he wrote? Half of them are glorious songs of praise, and half of them are laments and complaints. He was absolutely as uncomfortable waiting for his purpose to be fulfilled as I am.

My brain sees my purpose shrouded in a thick fog, leaving only uncertainty about where my foot will land with the next steps I take, and, well, mama ain’t comfortable, y’all.

But He was unfailing in His love to David. He used David to display His own glory throughout the land. And He promises to pour out that same grace and purpose into us, His children. The kids who don’t drive Him crazy, even when we ask eleventy-thousand times ‘are we there yet?!?’

‘Just wait and listen to me’, He’s saying. ‘It will all make sense soon.’

So the eleventy-thousand questions? I’m so there, y’all. But the trusting? I can’t think of anyone better than Jesus to direct my steps, even if I can’t see where they’ll land.

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