Christ - My Journey - How Full Is Your Spirit?: May 2025

Sunday, 25 May 2025

What Is the Focus of Your Decision?

What Is the Focus of Your Decision?

Recently, someone very close to me shared they are thinking about making a significant life decision. The kind of choice that isn't just about a job change or a new hobby—but a decision that will alter the shape of their life and ripple across those who love them. You know the kind I’m talking about. The kind of choice that doesn’t come with a simple yes or no answer.

We’ve all been there, haven’t we? I’ve talked before about the “should haves” and “could haves” of life. About the 20/20 hindsight we all seem to gain—but only after the moment has passed. There’s a funny irony to that, isn’t there? Hindsight is this superpower that shows up late to the party. But what stuck with me from this recent conversation wasn’t just the decision itself—it was the focus behind the decision.

Where is your focus when you’re standing at the crossroads?

This friend of mine has walked through the fire. A failed marriage. Two kids born from that union. And now, in this tiny village they call home, they’re surrounded by multiple generations—parents, kids, grandchildren, great-grandchildren. This isn’t just a place on the map. It’s a web of relationships. It’s a living, breathing network of spontaneous backyard visits, emergency babysitting, last-minute support talks over coffee, and birthday parties where everyone knows everyone. This isn’t just a location—it’s a life.

And now this person is thinking of leaving. For healing. For space. For a new chapter. For the warmth of sun on their face that doesn’t come with snow tires and frozen eyelashes.

I get it. Truly, I do.

You’ve heard me say before that if you need to make a change in your life for your own growth, you should do it. I still believe that. But I want to offer an addition to that belief. Maybe an asterisk. Maybe a magnifying glass.

Ask yourself: What is the focus of my decision?

Because when I look back on my own life and the times I’ve stood at that intersection of stay or go, leap or wait, move or root—I now realize the most important question wasn’t whether the decision would help me grow. It was this: what is my focus when I’m choosing? What lens am I using to view this moment?

I remember once testing the waters for a possible move away from my own little village. I live up north, where snow isn’t some magical holiday miracle—it’s a long, cold, deeply embedded reality. For some, snow feels like Santa Claus and Christmas movies. For me, it feels like a burden. A cold, wet, everyday weight that chips away at the soul over time.

So I did what many dream of. I gave myself two weeks. Two weeks in a warm place to explore what it might feel like to live somewhere else—somewhere without frost warnings and slushy sidewalks.

And at first, it was amazing. Yes, let’s do this, I thought. The warmth! The change! The endless sunshine!

But then my heart turned to those I would be leaving behind. Not just in the big ceremonial ways—holidays, birthdays—but in the little moments that hold up the everyday. The random Tuesday night dinner. The spontaneous driveway conversation that turns into an hour-long heart talk. The quick hug after a hard day. Those small, steady lifelines that are impossible to recreate once you’re gone.

And I realized then—I couldn’t leave. Not because I wasn’t allowed to. But because I couldn’t shake the weight of what I’d be taking away from others. What I’d be subtracting from the lives of those who’ve added so much to mine.

Let me be clear: If you need to go, go. If growth demands it, leap. If God is calling you to a new season, step forward. But before you do, pause long enough to ask: what’s the true focus of this decision?

My friend told me they need to leave for healing. For a reset. For a better life. That makes sense. I hear it. I respect it. But the focus of that decision is different from mine. And that’s okay—but it’s important to name it.

Because no matter what choice you make, your choice will impact others. There’s no way around that. And sometimes, in the name of healing, we accidentally break others.

The daily in-person interactions are gone now. The safety net of presence has vanished. And while time will bring clarity—and yes, 20/20 hindsight will tell the full story—right now, it’s left a lot of people in pain. It’s left some people grieving something they can’t quite put into words. The absence of the small things. The invisible glue that once held the days together.

So I want to share three questions to ask yourself when you’re standing at the edge of a life-changing decision. Three questions rooted in scripture—Old and New Testament—that can help align your focus.

1. Is This Decision Rooted in Obedience to God or Escape from Pain?

This is the hardest question to ask honestly.

Am I making this decision because God is leading me, or because I’m running from something I don’t want to face?

There is a difference between a wilderness that God leads us through and a wilderness we wander into on our own.

In Exodus, God led the Israelites out of Egypt into the desert. Not to escape, but to grow. But what happened when things got hard? They wanted to go back. They missed the predictability of slavery more than the promise of freedom. Why? Because the pain of transition is real.

“And they said to Moses, ‘Is it because there are no graves in Egypt that you have taken us away to die in the wilderness?’” – Exodus 14:11

Be honest: is this new life you’re reaching for really a calling, or just a quieter place to hide your brokenness?

Sometimes what looks like a fresh start is actually a bypass.

2. Will This Decision Multiply or Isolate the Gifts God Has Given Me?

Jesus teaches in the Parable of the Talents that what we’ve been given should grow, not shrink. Our gifts—our presence, love, wisdom, experience—are meant to multiply in the lives of others.

“For to everyone who has will more be given, and he will have an abundance. But from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away.” – Matthew 25:29

Ask yourself: Will this move multiply my impact, or shrink it?

Will I be able to bless more people, serve more deeply, reflect Christ more fully? Or am I removing my presence from a place that needs it because I’m tired?

Tired is valid. Jesus rested too. But He always returned to the people.

3. Am I Choosing Based on Temporal Comfort or Eternal Significance?

It’s easy to make choices based on what feels good now. A warmer climate. A quieter place. A new start. And none of these things are wrong—unless they become the only thing.

We must hold temporary comfort up to the mirror of eternal value.

In Colossians, Paul reminds us:

“Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.” – Colossians 3:2

What you choose today—does it ripple into eternity?

Does it leave a legacy for your children, your community, your church? Or is it only satisfying a hunger for ease?

Jesus didn’t come for comfort. He came to fulfill a mission. And sometimes, comfort comes as a side effect of obedience. But often, it doesn’t come at all.

There are times when leaving is the most God-honoring thing you can do. Abraham left everything he knew because God told him to. Ruth left her homeland to walk beside Naomi. Even Jesus left the comfort of heaven to walk among us.

But in each of those stories, the focus was obedience, not avoidance. Faith, not frustration. Purpose, not pain relief.

So if you're standing at the edge of a decision like my friend was—pause. Take a breath. Look past your own needs, your own comfort. And ask: What is the real focus?

Your healing matters. Your growth matters. But so does your impact. Your presence. Your legacy.

If you need to go, may it be because you’re being led. Not just because you’re tired of staying.

And if you stay, may it be because your roots run deep in purpose—not fear.

One of the most underrated stories in the Bible is in Acts 16, when Paul and his companions were planning to go into Asia—but the Holy Spirit stopped them.

“Paul and his companions traveled throughout the region… having been kept by the Holy Spirit from preaching the word in the province of Asia.” – Acts 16:6

That line has always fascinated me. Paul wanted to do something good. To preach the gospel! But the Spirit said no.

It wasn’t about the goodness of the action—it was about the focus. The Spirit had a different plan.

And that’s what I hope for you, and for my friend. Not just good decisions. But God decisions. Not just change for the sake of escape. But shifts born of calling.

Because one day, 20/20 hindsight will arrive. And when it does, may it find you focused. Rooted. Obedient. And walking not just in warmth, but in purpose.

Let’s never forget: our choices write stories. Not just our own—but the stories of those we love.

So choose well. Choose focused. Choose faithfully.

Could Have Syndrome: Walking by Faith, Not by 20/20 Hindsight

Could Have Syndrome: Walking by Faith, Not by 20/20 Hindsight

We’ve talked about “Should Have Syndrome” before. The weight of regret that comes when we look back at what we didn’t do, didn’t say, didn’t become — and somehow, all of it still lingers. But lately, something else has come up in my spirit. Another kind of reflection. Not necessarily regret… not yet anyway. It's the idea of what we could have done.

“Could Have Syndrome” is more subtle than its louder cousin, “Should Have.” It’s not fueled by guilt — not at first. It starts with possibilities. Opportunities. Doors half-open that we walked past because we didn’t trust ourselves or God enough to go through them. It's the quiet haunting of what might have been — not because we did something wrong, but because we didn’t do anything at all.

And then comes that superpower we all have — the power of 20/20 hindsight. That sneaky gift of perfect vision, after the moment has passed. Wouldn’t it be something if we had that kind of vision before we needed it? Before the decision, before the step, before the pruning?

Now, I understand the theology of pruning. We need it. Jesus taught it plainly:

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit... while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.” (John 15:1-2)

Pruning is growth. Pruning is preparation. Pruning is God’s way of saying: "I love you enough to take from you what you would never give up on your own."

But even so — can I be honest? Sometimes, it would be nice to avoid the pain. Sometimes, I don’t want to learn through loss. I want to learn through peace, through still waters and green pastures, not just valleys and broken limbs.

I find myself in one of those moments now. Maybe you’re here too.

A New Thing (Isaiah 43:19)

Right now, there’s a possibility — one that I didn’t expect to come knocking again. It’s still too early to say anything for certain, and I don’t want to get ahead of myself. But after over two years of being single, of assuming that kind of intimacy just wasn’t in the cards for me anymore, something… or someone… has entered the story.

And it’s good. Not perfect. Not fully formed. But good.
Refreshing, even.

But do you know what else it is?

Terrifying.

I didn’t realize how comfortable I had become in solitude. In my routine. In knowing the edges of my life and staying safely inside them. I know how to function alone. I know how to pour into my work, into ministry, into helping others. But to open myself again? To risk again? That’s something else entirely.

Because if I let my guard down — if I walk into this possibility — I’m inviting the full force of “Could Have Syndrome” to whisper in my ear every step of the way. “You could have just stayed safe. You could have avoided this. You could have protected your peace.”

Or maybe… just maybe… I’m being invited into something sacred.

The Wrestling Place

You see, I’m not just a romantic. I’m a data analyst in my own mind — especially when it comes to discerning if something is of God or not. I’ll weigh it. Measure it. Cross-reference it with Scripture. I’ll find affirmations and warnings. And if I’m honest, I can find enough data to support either narrative.

Isn’t that just like the enemy too?

The enemy doesn’t always shout lies. Sometimes he just suggests a few alternative truths, and then lets us stew in our confusion.

And confusion is fertile soil for “Could Have Syndrome.”
Because the enemy knows that hesitation can destroy more than action ever will.

So where does that leave me? Where does that leave you, if you’re also standing at a threshold and wondering if the thing in front of you is holy or harmful, sacred or a setup?

Sometimes, I think the answer isn’t found in the clarity of outcomes, but in the courage of obedience. Sometimes God isn’t asking us to be certain — He’s just asking us to walk.

“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” (Psalm 119:105)

It doesn’t say floodlight. It doesn’t say GPS. Just a lamp — for the next step.

Three Ways to Move Through Transitions With Godly Discernment

Here are three ways that have helped me, and may help you too, when you're facing transitions and don’t know if you're dealing with a God-opportunity or a counterfeit comfort:

1. Submit the Decision Daily, Not Just Once

Most of us were taught to ask God once and wait for a green or red light. But God is relational, not transactional. He wants a walk, not just a yes/no moment.

“In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.” (Proverbs 3:6)

That word all means… all. The early days of possibility. The quiet moments of insecurity. The nights where you feel more confused than comforted.

I’ve learned that when I continually submit something to God — when I bring it back to Him day after day — something begins to shift. Not always in the situation, but in me. Either my peace grows, or my discomfort does. Either way, clarity begins to rise from the conversation.

The key is to keep submitting. Not once. Not twice. Every day.

2. Seek Confirmation Through Community, Not Just Circumstance

When you’re walking through transition — especially the kind where your heart is involved — don’t isolate. Don't try to spiritualize every sign or feeling. Invite godly voices into the conversation.

“Plans fail for lack of counsel, but with many advisers they succeed.” (Proverbs 15:22)

There’s a humility required to open up your vulnerable thoughts to someone who knows Scripture and knows you. But when you do, something beautiful happens — the burden gets lighter. The perspective gets broader. And often, you’ll receive wisdom that you couldn’t see on your own because of the emotional fog.

Your heart will deceive you. But your wise and Spirit-filled community? That’s God's gift of course correction and confirmation.

3. Trust God With The Outcome, Not Just The Process

We often say “trust the process.” But with God, it's more than that. You have to trust the person behind the process. And you have to trust the outcome — especially when you don’t know what it is.

“For we live by faith, not by sight.” (2 Corinthians 5:7)

Faith isn’t about knowing how the story ends. It’s about believing that the One writing the story is good, even when you can’t see the ending.

I don’t know how this relationship will unfold. I don’t know if it’s the one. I don’t know if it’s from God or just a good thing I’m meant to learn from. But what I do know is that God hasn’t changed. His character is consistent. His love is constant. His promises are still true.

So whether this relationship grows into something lasting or ends with another pruning, I will trust the Gardener more than I fear the shears.

Final Thoughts: Walking Forward One Day at a Time

Maybe you're here, reading this, and you're in the middle of your own “could have” moment. Maybe it’s a relationship. A career move. A ministry call. Maybe you’re wondering if that door that opened is really God or just your desire playing dress-up.

Friend, let me say this: it’s okay to not know right now. It’s okay to be unsure. What matters most is not whether you make the perfect decision, but whether you walk closely with the One who perfects your path.

Don’t let “Could Have Syndrome” keep you paralyzed.
Don’t give the enemy the power to twist possibility into fear.

Take one step. Then another. Let your lamp light the way. Let God’s voice be louder than your doubts. Let peace — not pressure — be your compass.

And if it turns out that this wasn’t the right path? God will still be there. He redeems every “could have” and turns it into a testimony of grace. He wastes nothing.

As I walk into this next season — uncertain but hopeful — I’m choosing to believe that even if I don’t have 20/20 foresight, I serve a God who sees the end from the beginning (Isaiah 46:10). And that’s enough for me to say yes to today.

Scriptures for Continued Reflection:

Isaiah 43:18-19 — “See, I am doing a new thing…”
Romans 12:2 — “Do not conform… be transformed by the renewing of your mind…”
Ecclesiastes 3:1 — “There is a time for everything…”
Psalm 37:23-24 — “The Lord makes firm the steps of the one who delights in Him…”
1 John 4:18 — “Perfect love casts out fear…”

Whether this is your season of planting, pruning, or possibility — walk gently, walk wisely, and walk with Him. One day at a time.

Let that be enough.

Sunday, 11 May 2025

What Is Your 90-Day Fiancé?

What Is Your 90-Day Fiancé?

Have you ever sat down on a quiet evening, perhaps with a warm drink in hand, the chaos of the day behind you, and clicked “play” on a show like 90 Day Fiancé? I have. More times than I can count, actually. And let me tell you, I don’t just watch that show—I observe it. I watch with my heart, my mind, my experience, and yes, sometimes a twinge of sadness too.

90 Day Fiancé is more than entertainment to me. It’s a mirror. A fast-paced, edited-down glimpse into something much bigger: our deep human desire to be chosen, to be loved, to be safe. We all want to be the exception to the rule. We want to believe that someone will fly across the world for us, risk their whole life just to start a new chapter with us. That kind of love feels thrilling, almost holy. But then... why doesn’t it last?

It’s not just the time limit. It’s not just the visa. And it’s not just the cultural gaps or language barriers or meddling in-laws. No, I believe it’s because the foundation was never properly built in the first place.

Love on a Timer

The idea of falling in love in 90 days is romantic, right? A whirlwind journey of connection, risk, and commitment. And for some, that story ends in a lifetime of happiness. But for many—too many—it ends with heartbreak, arguments, legal complications, and wounds that sometimes don’t heal for years.

So what is the real issue?

Let me offer you this: it’s not about the 90 days. It’s about what those 90 days represent. A countdown. A pressure cooker. A timeline too short to build something that was always meant to take longer. The best relationships aren’t microwaved. They’re slow cooked. They’re rooted in patience, humility, trust, and faith—not in deadlines.

The Hope We All Carry

I get it. I do. I’ve hoped like that too. Hoped that the next person would be the person. Hoped that this time, things would be different. That someone would finally see me for who I am and love me through it. That the loneliness would melt away the moment their plane landed. That finally, my life would feel full.

But sometimes, the person who walks off that plane isn’t sent by God. Sometimes, they’re just someone passing through your story—and it hurts deeply when we realize that.

The hard truth is, many of these couples on the show fall in love with the idea of love more than they fall in love with the person in front of them. And when reality sets in—when money runs low, when the language barriers become arguments, when families clash or dreams don’t match—they fall apart. Because the fantasy couldn’t hold up under the weight of real life.

Love Without Foundation Crumbles

This isn’t just a TV show observation. This is a life principle. Without a foundation, anything can look good for a season, but it won’t stand the test of time.

Think about what Jesus taught in Matthew 7:24-27. He talked about the wise man who built his house on the rock. The rains came, the winds blew, but that house stood firm. Why? Because of the foundation. But the foolish man built his house on sand. And when the storm came, that house fell with a great crash.

I see a lot of relationships—on TV, in my life, in my community—that are built on sand. On chemistry. On loneliness. On attraction. On convenience. And when the storms of life come—and they will come—that relationship crashes down.

What if instead of rushing to find “the one,” we took the time to build our own foundation first?

The Pain That Follows

What’s worse than being alone? Being worse off than when you were alone.

When these relationships end, there’s emotional pain—yes. But also legal stress, financial loss, betrayal, and shame. You risked it all for love, and it didn’t pan out. And now you feel like a fool. But let me stop you right there: you’re not a fool.

You’re just human. A human with a heart that longs for connection. A human that wanted to be loved.

Don’t let one broken relationship—or even ten—harden your heart to the possibility that God has someone beautiful prepared for you. Just make sure you’re building your heart’s house on the rock this time. Not on fantasy. Not on lust. Not on desperation. On the rock.

So What Do We Do Now?

We do the work that nobody sees.

We heal.

We pray.

We build a life so full and grounded in God that anyone who comes in is simply joining what is already good.

And when you’re strong in your faith, rooted in your purpose, and sure of who you are in Christ—you won’t be looking for someone to complete you. You’ll be looking for someone to partner with you. Someone to build with. Someone who doesn’t just spark your heart—but strengthens your spirit.

The Person God Wrote for You

Let me ask you a question I’ve had to ask myself lately—do you believe God has already written someone into your story?

Now, I know that can stir up all kinds of feelings. If you're single, it might feel like hope. If you're divorced, maybe it feels like regret. And if you're in a relationship that’s testing your limits, maybe it feels like confusion. But the deeper truth here is this: God does write people into our story. He’s the Author of life, after all. But we still have to turn the pages with discernment, with patience, and with faith.

I don’t think we “miss” the person God has for us by accident. I believe we miss them when we ignore His voice. When we try to speed up the timeline. When we choose someone based on feelings instead of foundations. When we lean on emotion instead of wisdom. That’s when we start handing out permanent places in our hearts to people who were only meant to be in a single chapter.

And friend, it’s not that God is punishing us—it’s that He wants us to stop settling for less than His best.

The Pressure to Succeed

Now back to the 90-day thing for a moment. Can you imagine the pressure of trying to prove your entire worth, value, compatibility, and future potential—all in three months?

Think about it: these couples are under the spotlight. Some of them are leaving everything behind: their family, their culture, their jobs, their language, and sometimes even their dignity. And for what? For a relationship that they hope is real. For a dream that maybe love can finally conquer all. But pressure like that crushes people. It doesn’t build them up. And when you add social media to the mix? Forget it.

Suddenly, the relationship isn’t even about the two people anymore. It’s about likes, opinions, comments, and brand deals. It’s about followers who pick sides when things get rough. It's not two hearts becoming one—it’s two hearts performing on a stage.

That’s not marriage. That’s performance art. And that kind of love doesn’t last.

Let’s Talk About Social Media

Social media is one of the biggest culprits here. It convinces us that love should look perfect, glossy, and presentable. We scroll and see proposals in Paris, wedding videos edited like movie trailers, and couples laughing over lattes on cobblestone streets. What we don’t see is the disagreement that happened before the camera turned on. Or the financial stress. Or the long talks that didn’t end in understanding. Or the tears shed in private while the world still “likes” your last post.

We start to believe that if our love doesn’t look like that, it must be wrong.

But real love? It’s not always Instagrammable. Sometimes, it looks like someone folding your laundry. Sometimes it’s a quiet prayer when you’re sick. Sometimes it’s forgiving each other after a hard conversation. And yes, sometimes it's sitting side by side in silence, both choosing not to walk away.

You won’t find that kind of love trending. But you will find it in people who’ve chosen to build their lives on something deeper than validation from strangers.

Let’s Go Deeper: Emotional Roots

Another thing I see in these failed 90-day relationships—and maybe in some of our own—is that the emotional roots don’t go deep enough.

It’s easy to fall in love with someone’s accent, their laugh, their sense of adventure. But what happens when the real stuff hits? When someone loses their job. When your savings dry up. When one person wants kids and the other doesn’t. When religion, family, and lifestyle differences become loud?

Without deep emotional roots—mutual respect, aligned values, shared vision, and a strong spiritual center—those relationships get pulled up like weeds in a windstorm. It doesn’t matter how pretty the flower looks if it’s never been rooted in good soil.

Love has to be planted deep. It has to be watered with time, truth, transparency, and trust. If it isn’t—no matter how beautiful it starts—it won’t survive.

God’s Version of Love

Let’s come back to the foundation.

If we want to build a love that lasts, we have to go back to the source of love itself. God. Not culture. Not movies. Not our own desires.

In 1 Corinthians 13, we’re reminded what real love is: patient, kind, not self-seeking, not easily angered, keeps no record of wrongs. Love that rejoices with the truth. Love that protects, trusts, hopes, and perseveres.

Do you know what that kind of love requires?

Work. Grace. Forgiveness. Humility. Surrender.

And yes, it requires faith. Not just in the other person—but in God.

That’s why I say: don’t just look for chemistry. Look for someone you can go to war with—in prayer, in hardship, in ministry, in family. Look for someone who’s willing to do the foundation work with you.

If You're Still Waiting…

If you’re reading this and you’re still single—can I just say something that might be hard to hear but is full of truth?

You are not behind. You are not broken. And you are not forgotten.

Don’t believe the lie that says your singleness is a sign of failure or punishment. Sometimes it’s a sign of protection. Sometimes it’s preparation. Sometimes, it’s so God can grow you into the person your future spouse needs. Not just the person they want.

While you wait, build your foundation. Heal from past relationships. Learn your worth in Christ. Learn how to communicate. Learn how to listen. Learn how to serve. Learn how to love without losing yourself.

Because when God writes someone into your story, you’ll want to be ready—not desperate.

And If You’re Already Married…

If you’re married and reading this thinking, “We didn’t build a strong foundation,” let me encourage you. It’s not too late. God is a master builder—even in homes with cracks.

Start where you are. Pray together. Have the hard conversations. Set new boundaries. Go to counseling. Relearn each other. Say “I’m sorry.” Say “I forgive you.” Say “I still choose you.”

And most importantly—invite God into your marriage. Not just for the Sunday mornings, but for the Tuesday night arguments. For the budget meetings. For the bedtime prayers. For the parenting decisions. For the seasons where love feels more like work than romance.

With Him, nothing is impossible.

Closing the Chapter—But Not the Book

So here’s what I leave you with:

What is your 90-day fiancé?

Is it a rushed relationship? A job you jumped into too fast? A decision made out of pressure instead of prayer?

We all have a “90-day” story—something we wanted so badly that we skipped the slow build and jumped into. And maybe it worked. But maybe it left you more broken than before.

But that doesn’t mean you’re finished. It means you’re being formed. And there’s grace for that.

There’s a better story being written. And it’s not a reality show. It’s reality—when you give the pen back to God.

Keep the faith. Stay rooted. Build well. Because when the right one comes—and I believe they will—you won’t need 90 days. You’ll just need trust, time, and a solid foundation.

And that, my friend, will stand the test of time.

When You’re Tired but Still Trying: A Crossroads with God

When You’re Tired but Still Trying: A Crossroads with God

Have you ever followed God so faithfully that you’d swear you were walking exactly in His will… only to look around one day and realize you’re standing in the rubble of something you thought He built with you?

That’s where I’m at right now. And to be honest, I don’t even want to dress it up with spiritual language today. I just want to be real. Not perform. Not posture. Just share.

Because maybe someone else reading this feels the same way.

The Blessing I Carried

For the past few years, I’ve been carrying a blessing. A growing business. And not just growing for the sake of success, but one that truly let me care for others. I’ve been able to support my aging parents, provide for myself with dignity, and give to others when needs have come up. That alone is a huge gift—one I never take lightly.

I genuinely thought I was honouring God through it. Every decision I made, every client I served, every seed I planted—it all felt like it was in line with what God wanted me to do. I wasn’t trying to build a kingdom of my own. I was trying to build something for His. That’s what I told myself. That’s what I believed.

So when the time came to grow—to bring others into this mission, to expand the reach, to create a team that could carry this mantle further—I stepped forward boldly. Confidently. Prayerfully.

And then it crumbled. Twice.

Two Tries, Two Failures

You don’t need all the details. But I brought people in who I thought were the right fit. People who, at least for a moment, felt aligned with the bigger picture of what I thought God wanted to do through this business.

But both times, it didn’t last.

It’s not even about blame. It’s not about who was right or wrong. All I know is that what I tried to build with them fell apart. Fast. What I hoped would be a ministry disguised as a marketplace felt more like a lesson in heartache. And now I sit here, wondering if maybe I got the whole thing wrong.

What if I’m not supposed to do this?

What if this business, which once felt like a calling, has become something I’ve just been trying to keep alive out of pride?

What if this is God’s way of saying, “You’ve gone far enough. This is the end of this road.”

I’m So Tired

I don’t say this lightly: I’m tired.

Not physically—I mean spiritually. Emotionally. Soul-level tired. You know the kind. The kind where even prayer feels like a struggle. Where reading the Word doesn’t light you up the way it used to. Where you second-guess everything you’ve ever thought you heard from God, because the fruit you’re seeing doesn’t look anything like the promise you believed.

This isn’t just disappointment—it’s disorientation.

I used to be so sure. I used to wake up with vision. With direction. With a clear sense of what needed to be done and why. But now? Now I’m unsure of everything except that I’m unsure.

And it hurts.

Have You Ever Been Here?

So I’m asking you now, reader. Yes, you. Have you ever been here?

Have you ever taken a step you felt God asked you to take, only to have it backfire completely?

Have you ever walked away from a stable path to follow a whisper, only to have that whisper lead you straight into a storm?

If so, then you know this ache. This shaking of the foundations. This desperate desire to rewind the clock and somehow do it differently. But also, underneath all that… the quiet hope that maybe—just maybe—this isn’t the end. That maybe God’s still here, even in the failure.

Where Is God in the Failure?

That’s the real question, isn’t it?

Not, “Why did this fail?” but “Where is God in this failure?”

It’s easy to believe He’s with us when things are growing, when team members thrive, when expansion feels inevitable. But when things fall apart? When the people you trusted disappoint you? When your own leadership comes into question? That’s when faith gets real.

And honestly… this is where I’m struggling.

Because I’ve always believed that God doesn’t waste pain. That even the messiest chapters can be redeemed. But in the thick of it, it’s hard to see that. Right now, I’m not seeing beauty from ashes. I’m just seeing ashes.

What Do I Do Now?

That’s my question. My prayer. My journal entry. My cry in the dark.

What do I do now?

Do I rebuild?

Do I pivot?

Do I quit?

Do I shrink things back down and just hold on tight to what’s left?

Or do I take the biggest leap of all—another step into the unknown, trusting that somehow, even though I feel like I’m failing, God is still writing something with my life?

I don’t have the answer.

But maybe the Holy Spirit does.

This Is Me, Asking

You know how usually when you’re stuck, someone recommends a book? Or a podcast? Or a retreat?

But not today.

Today, I’m not the one writing the answers. I’m asking you.

What has the Holy Spirit whispered to you as you read these words?

I don’t mean what would you say to me if we were sitting across the table. I mean deep down—has anything stirred? Has anything risen up inside of you as you walked through this valley with me?

Because maybe, just maybe, the answer I need isn’t in a book I haven’t read yet… maybe it’s in your story. In your pain. In your redemption. In your God.

A Time to Rebuild or a Time to Rest?

There’s a verse in Ecclesiastes that’s echoing in my mind: “There is a time to build and a time to tear down.”

That’s what I’m wrestling with.

Was the tearing down that happened this year part of God’s plan? Or was it a result of my own missteps?

Is now a time to rebuild—with new wisdom, new boundaries, and new discernment?

Or is now a time to rest—to pull back, to let the soil heal before planting again?

I don’t know.

I really don’t.

But I trust that God does.

And I’m asking Him to speak.

I Still Believe… Even If

Even in the doubt, I still believe.

Even in the silence, I still seek.

Even in the confusion, I still worship.

Why? Because at the end of the day, I’m not in this business for a paycheck or for praise—I’m in this because I wanted to serve. To provide. To glorify God through my work. And while I may have fumbled the details, I know my heart started out right.

Maybe yours did too.

And maybe, like me, you’re wondering what to do when your best effort wasn’t enough.

Maybe the Answer Isn’t Doing

Maybe the answer right now isn’t doing anything.

Maybe the answer is just sitting in God’s presence and letting Him speak.

Letting Him remind you that your worth doesn’t come from the team you manage or the profit you earn. That you are still His. Still chosen. Still called.

And maybe what He wants most right now isn’t a plan—but surrender.

To the One Who Feels Beat Up

If you feel like you’ve failed, like you’re at the end of yourself, I want to say this to you:

You are not alone.

I’m with you.

God is with you.

And even when it feels like everything is falling apart, something holy is happening. You may not see it yet. You may not feel it. But faith isn’t about feelings. It’s about holding on.

So hold on.

Even if your grip is weak. Even if all you can do is whisper, “Jesus, help.”

That’s enough.

He’s enough.

A Final Prayer

God, I don’t know what comes next.

I don’t know why this hurts so much.

But I trust You still.

I trust that You’re not done with me.

I trust that even in failure, there’s purpose.

I ask for wisdom. For healing. For courage.

Show me what to do, Lord.

And if doing isn’t the point—if just being with You is what You want—then help me rest in that.

Help me believe again.

Help me begin again.

Amen.