Do you remember a time when you began
something that you believed was your calling — a moment when your spirit
stirred with excitement because you knew deep down God had planted a seed
inside you? I do. I can still recall those early mornings, when I sat at my
desk or prayed before writing a word, feeling the quiet nudge of the Holy
Spirit saying, “This is it. This is the path I’ve laid before you.”
In those moments, it felt like the heavens
themselves were leaning in. The air carried that unmistakable presence — the
kind that makes your heartbeat different. The kind that fills you with peace
and trembling all at once.
But soon enough, the enemy showed up. Not with
thunder, not with flames, but with whispers. Doubt. Distraction. That subtle
questioning: “Are you sure this is from God?”
And I began to wrestle with that tension
between divine inspiration and human insecurity — between being called and
feeling capable. It’s an odd space to live in. You can feel the Spirit moving
in you one moment, and the very next, you’re questioning whether you’ve made it
all up.
That’s where I’ve spent much of the last
decade — working, writing, learning, stumbling, and standing again. What I’ve
discovered is that the process of walking in your God-given gift doesn’t always
feel like soaring. Sometimes, it feels like crawling through the mud of your
own limitations, pulling yourself forward one inch at a time.
Yet even in that, there’s beauty. Because
every stumble becomes a lesson in grace. Every moment of doubt becomes an
invitation to trust.
When Your
Gift Begins to Breathe
As I’ve continued writing and walking with the
Lord, I’ve noticed something remarkable: our gifts have life in them. They
begin as seeds — small, fragile, uncertain — but when watered with faith,
obedience, and humility, they start to breathe. They become alive in us.
It’s subtle at first. You might not even
notice the growth right away. But one day, you’ll look back and realize that
the very thing that once felt impossible has become a natural rhythm of who you
are.
You’ll see how the baby steps — the shaky ones
filled with fear — have turned into strides of confidence, not because of your
strength, but because of His.
As it says in Philippians 1:6 (NIV):
“Being confident of this, that he who began a
good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.”
That verse has carried me through seasons when
I felt like my progress was too slow or my growth too small. God reminded me
that He doesn’t rush the work He values most. The process is the purpose.
One More
Get Up Than Fall
I can’t count the number of times I’ve fallen
flat on my face — not just in my writing, but in my walk with Christ. There
have been moments when I’ve questioned my worth, my words, even my witness. But
every single time, grace has picked me up.
The key, I’ve learned, is simple: get up
one more time than you fall.
That’s how faith grows — not through
perfection, but through persistence.
Proverbs 24:16 (NIV) says:
“For though the righteous fall seven times,
they rise again, but the wicked stumble when calamity strikes.”
It doesn’t say the righteous never
fall. It says they rise. Again and again.
And each time I’ve risen, I’ve carried a
little more wisdom, a little more humility, and a deeper awareness that it was
never my power sustaining me — it was God’s.
This is how momentum is built in the Kingdom.
Not by speed, but by steady obedience. Each act of getting back up is a
declaration: “God’s not done with me yet.”
A Decade of
Refinement
Now, ten years into this journey of writing
and reflecting, I see how God’s been refining me more than I’ve been producing.
What began as a desire to write for Him has turned into a process of being
rewritten by Him.
I still feel like a novice. I still stumble
over words and wonder if what I’m doing makes a difference. But today — this
week, in fact — I felt something subtle shift inside me.
While writing personalized greetings for two
readers of my published books, I noticed the transformation. I wasn’t just
signing pages. I wasn’t just sending gratitude. I was ministering. The
words carried weight — not because of their eloquence, but because they came
from a heart aligned with purpose.
It was a reminder that when you walk long
enough in your gift, God begins to turn what you do into who you are.
And that’s when the fundamental transformation
happens — when your effort becomes ministry, and your calling becomes a conduit
for His presence.
Romans 12:6 (NIV) says:
“We have different gifts, according to the
grace given to each of us.”
Grace is what makes the gift work. Grace is
what transforms practice into power. Grace is what turns a trembling first step
into a confident stride of faith.
There’s something holy about looking back —
not to dwell on where you were, but to recognize how far grace has carried you.
When I think about this journey, from that
first flicker of inspiration to now, I can see how many times God used what
felt like a delay to do deeper work in my heart. Sometimes the delay was
His mercy. Sometimes it was His protection. Sometimes it was His preparation.
The truth is, we all start our walk with God
believing we know what our gift is for. But over time, He reveals that the gift
is less about what we do and more about what He does through us.
I used to believe I was writing books. But
now, I see that I was really being written — word by word, moment by moment —
by the Author of Life Himself.
And as He’s been writing my story, He’s shown
me that the most significant ministry rarely begins with a microphone or a
platform. It starts in the quiet places — in the heart of surrender.
From Effort
to Overflow
That slight shift I noticed this week while
writing those personalized notes to readers wasn’t about skill or confidence —
it was about energy.
In the beginning, I would pour out from a
place of wanting to do well, wanting to impact, wanting to make sure my words
resonated. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it can sometimes feel like
striving.
But this time, it felt like overflow.
I wasn’t trying to be impactful — I was
just being obedient. The words flowed naturally, like living water moving
through a willing vessel.
And it struck me: when you move from effort to
overflow, you’ve entered into alignment with the Holy Spirit.
John 7:38 (NIV) says:
“Whoever believes in me, as Scripture has
said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.”
The living water doesn’t come from us; it
flows through us. Our responsibility is to remain open, humble, and
connected to the Source.
When I write, when I serve, when I encourage
someone — that’s the posture I strive for. Not performance, but presence. Not
pressure, but partnership.
That’s when your God-given gift stops being
something you practice and becomes something you live.
Becoming
the Work Itself
I once believed my calling was to create — to
write books, letters, and reflections that inspire others to grow in their
faith. But over the years, I’ve realized that God wasn’t just calling me to
create something. He was calling me to become something.
To become more like Christ.
To become a vessel of truth.
To become a living testimony that
transformation is real.
Romans 12:2 (NIV) reminds us:
“Do not conform to the pattern of this world,
but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test
and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.”
Transformation is the evidence of a gift being
used for God’s glory. Because when you truly surrender your gift to Him, it
begins to transform you before it ever transforms others.
And as He works in you, people begin to notice
something different. Not the polish, not the productivity — but the peace. That
quiet peace that comes when you know you are walking in His will.
Old and New
Testimonies
In the past few months, I’ve been blessed to
receive messages from readers — some who have followed my journey from Climb
Your Mountain, and others who just discovered Reflections with Christ.
One reader shared how a single sentence I
wrote brought them to tears, not because it was eloquent, but because it
mirrored what God was whispering in their own heart. Another shared how a
reflection gave them the courage to pray out loud for the first time in years.
These aren’t just stories. They’re testimonies.
They’re glimpses of what happens when obedience collides with purpose.
And those testimonies — both old and new —
remind me that this isn’t about building a brand. It’s about creating the Body.
1 Corinthians 12:12–13 (NIV) says:
“Just as a body, though one, has many parts,
but all its many parts form one body, so it is with Christ. For we were all
baptized by one Spirit so as to form one body.”
That means when you operate in your gift, you
strengthen the whole. Whether your role is to speak, write, lead, serve, sing,
build, or simply encourage — your obedience feeds the health of the entire Body
of Christ.
So when doubt creeps in, and the enemy tries
to whisper that your work doesn’t matter, remind yourself: You’re not
working alone. You’re part of something eternal.
When the
Purpose Shifts
Here’s the beautiful part — the “subtle shift”
I felt this week wasn’t sudden. It didn’t come with fireworks or fanfare. It
came quietly, like dawn after a long night.
I realized I was no longer writing for
people — I was writing to them. There’s a difference.
Writing for people carries a hint of
performance, a desire to please or impress. Writing to people is
ministry — it’s personal, it’s intentional, it’s relational.
That’s what the Holy Spirit does. He doesn’t
speak at us; He speaks to us.
And as I leaned into that shift, I realized
that I was no longer focused on what I could say — I was focused on what God
wanted to say through me.
That’s the mark of maturity in the Spirit. Not
perfection, but alignment.
Galatians 5:25 (NIV) says:
“Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in
step with the Spirit.”
When we walk in step with the Spirit, we stop
chasing significance. We start chasing obedience. And obedience always leads to
purpose.
Humility in
the Growth
Now, I want to be clear — this isn’t about
achievement or self-recognition. This realization doesn’t come from pride, but
from perspective.
There are many leaders far wiser, stronger,
and more anointed than I am. But the beautiful truth is that God doesn’t
compare His children — He calls them.
And when He calls, He equips.
The longer I walk this path, the more I
realize how much I still have to learn. Every day, I’m reminded of my need for
His grace. Every time I sit down to write, I ask Him to empty me of myself so
that His truth can fill the page.
I used to think humility meant doubting your
worth. Now I understand it’s recognizing your Source.
As John the Baptist said in John 3:30 (NIV):
“He must become greater; I must become less.”
That’s the true posture of a servant. That’s
the shift I’m learning to live in.
And the more I surrender to that truth, the
more I sense God’s presence in the small things — in the pauses between
sentences, in the quiet moments before the page fills, in the stillness of
knowing He is near.
Psalm 46:10 (NIV) reminds us:
“Be still, and know that I am God.”
Stillness is where the shift happens. It’s
where striving ends and trust begins.
When I look back on these ten years of
walking, writing, stumbling, and rising again, I can see now that the journey
has never been about reaching a destination. It has been about the becoming.
The subtle shift I felt this week wasn’t a
change in direction — it was a change in depth. A deepening of purpose. A
clearer understanding that everything we do through Christ is part of something
far greater than ourselves.
Each note written, each reflection shared,
each conversation had — they’re all threads in a larger tapestry God is
weaving. And sometimes, when we pause to look back, we can finally see the
pattern emerging. The once-random strokes of obedience begin to reveal His
divine design.
I see now how even the smallest acts of faith
were shaping me. Every time I picked up the pen, I felt empty. Every time I
pressed through doubt to publish a message of encouragement. Every time I
shared truth, even when it felt like no one was listening — those moments
mattered. They still do.
And as I felt that subtle shift this week, I
realized something: I am no longer walking toward purpose. I am walking in
purpose.
That’s the moment when obedience turns into
overflow. When faith matures into trust. When the Spirit takes what was once a
simple act of service and turns it into an offering that glorifies the Kingdom.
Three Ways
to Live Your Life Using Your God-Given Gift to Glorify the Kingdom
Over the years, I’ve learned that God doesn’t
give gifts to be hidden. He gives them to be multiplied — to bring light,
truth, and healing to others. And while our paths and callings are unique,
there are three foundational ways we can all live out our gifts in a way that honours
Him.
1. Use Your
Gift with a Spirit of Service, Not Self
The first shift every believer must make is
from performance to purpose.
When you start using your gift, it’s easy to
focus on outcomes — who notices, how it’s received, whether it makes a visible
impact. But over time, the Spirit begins to refine your motive. You begin to
realize that who you’re serving matters more than what you’re
doing.
Every gift is meant to serve.
1 Peter 4:10 (NIV) says:
“Each of you should use whatever gift you have
received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various
forms.”
That verse has shaped much of my perspective.
When I sit down to write now, I no longer ask, “Will this inspire someone?” but
rather, “Will this serve someone?”
Because when your motive is service, God
multiplies the impact. He takes what seems small and uses it to touch lives in
ways you may never see.
Sometimes service looks like leadership.
Sometimes it looks like listening. Sometimes it’s simply showing up with love
in your heart and patience in your voice.
But in every case, it’s not about us — it’s
about Him.
The Holy Spirit reminded me once in prayer,
“Craig, when you write to one person, you minister to many, because the Spirit
knows who needs it.”
That truth keeps me grounded. Because the
moment I make the message about myself, I stop being a messenger.
2.
Surrender the Timing and Trust the Process
The second way to glorify God with your gift
is to surrender your timeline.
I’ve lost count of how many times I thought I
was ready for something, only to discover that God was still refining me. I’ve
learned that His pace is perfect, even when it feels painfully slow.
Ecclesiastes 3:11 (NIV) says:
“He has made everything beautiful in its
time.”
That includes you. That includes your growth,
your platform, your ministry, your family, and your calling. Everything.
The waiting seasons — the quiet, hidden years
— are not punishment; they’re preparation. It’s in those hidden moments that
God strengthens the foundation so the structure can stand when the storm comes.
When I first began writing, I was eager to see
the fruits of my labour. I wanted affirmation, progress, and momentum. But God
gently whispered, “Do you trust Me enough to write even if no one sees it?”
That question still humbles me. Because that’s
the kind of faith He honours — the faith that creates without applause, that
serves without recognition, that obeys without understanding.
When you surrender the timing, you release
control. And when you release control, you make room for miracles.
Isaiah 60:22 (NIV) captures it beautifully:
“I am the Lord; in its time I will do this
swiftly.”
God’s timing may not match your calendar, but
when His moment comes, it will unfold with power, precision, and purpose.
3. Let Your
Gift Point Back to the Giver
The final and most important way to glorify
God with your gift is always to let it point back to Him.
Our talents, our insight, our ability to
connect with others — they are all borrowed light. They shine because the true
Light dwells within us.
Matthew 5:16 (NIV) says:
“In the same way, let your light shine before
others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.”
This verse doesn’t say “glorify you.” It says,
“glorify your Father.” That’s the essence of Kingdom living — using your
platform as a mirror that reflects Christ’s love and truth into the world.
Whenever I release a new book, write a
reflection, or speak with someone one-on-one, I remind myself: This isn’t
about my words. It’s about His Word.
Every time someone tells me a chapter helped
them find peace or clarity, I point them back to the Source. Because
transformation doesn’t come from the pen — it comes from the Spirit.
Your gift is simply the doorway through which
God enters someone else’s heart.
Living as a
Reflection, Not a Source
This past week, while signing those
personalized greetings for readers, I realized how far God had brought me from
that uncertain first year of writing. What once felt like a fragile calling has
become a firm conviction.
But even now, I’m reminded that I’m still
learning, still growing, still dependent on grace.
There’s a passage in 2 Corinthians 3:18 (NIV)
that captures this ongoing transformation perfectly:
“And we all, who with unveiled faces
contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with
ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.”
That’s what this subtle shift of purpose truly
means — to live unveiled, vulnerable, and willing to be transformed again and
again.
Our purpose is not to arrive; it’s to reflect.
The more we reflect Christ, the more our lives
point others to Him. The more we decrease, the more He increases. The more we
give, the more we’re filled.
It’s the paradox of Kingdom living — that
surrender leads to strength, and humility leads to honour.
A Closing
Reflection: The Ripple Effect of Obedience
One of the quietest lessons I’ve learned
through this decade-long journey is that you never know how far obedience will
ripple.
You may never see the faces your faith has
touched. You may never hear the stories of how your words, your prayers, your
kindness changed a life. But in Heaven’s record, every seed planted through
obedience bears fruit.
That’s why it matters to keep showing up —
even when it feels small, even when it feels unnoticed. Because God measures
differently. He counts hearts, not headlines.
Colossians 3:23–24 (NIV) says:
“Whatever you do, work at it with all your
heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you
will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ
you are serving.”
That’s the heart of the matter. When we serve
Christ through our gifts, we become part of His continuing story on earth — a
story of redemption, restoration, and renewal.
Every act of faith is another verse in the
song of eternity.
A Prayer
for Alignment
Father,
Thank You for the gift You placed within me — the calling, the creativity, the
compassion that flows only from Your Spirit.
Help me to use it not for recognition, but for revelation. Let my work, my
words, and my walk reflect Your truth and bring light to others.
When I grow weary, remind me that every seed
sown in faith matters. When doubt whispers, quiet my heart with Your promises.
Teach me to live in the subtle shift — the
space between striving and surrender — where Your Spirit moves freely through
me.
And may everything I create, every life I
touch, and every moment I live point back to You.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.
Final
Thoughts
As I close this reflection, I’m reminded of
how faithful God has been through every season of uncertainty.
Ten years ago, I began what I thought was
simply writing a book. Now I see it was the beginning of a lifelong
conversation with the Creator — one that continues to refine, restore, and
re-align me daily.
And perhaps that’s what this “subtle shift of
purpose” truly means: learning that the goal isn’t to finish the work — it’s to
remain faithful in it.
Because when you do, you discover the greatest
truth of all —
that the gift was never really yours to begin with. It was His,
entrusted to you for such a time as this.
So, wherever you are in your journey — whether
you’re just starting, rebuilding, or rediscovering your purpose — take heart.
The same God who began the work in you will be faithful to complete it.
“Being confident of this, that he who began a
good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.”
— Philippians 1:6 (NIV)
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