FOR MAN OR FOR GOD?

I’m not sure if you’ve ever felt the same as me but throughout my entire life I’ve felt the pressure of inadequacy. I would never be enough. In my head I believed that if I reached too high then I was doing too much. I would be bothering people. Or they would think that I shouldn’t be doing X, Y, or Z.

There have been two areas where I have felt this the strongest. One is in worship. Since I started singing, there were many times I felt unseen, unsupported, and not enough in the eyes of worship pastors. This isn’t to expose anyone or shame anyone but it’s the truth of my journey. All I wanted was someone to see me as worthy of attention and pour into my gifting and the call God put on my life. But I never got that. I realized that if it was something I desired then I had to seek it, I had to find the help, I had to pour myself into it. No one would do it for me. Regardless, I still have felt the sadness that the very people who were supposed to steward my gift were the very people diminishing me.

Over all of these years I just realized something that God has been trying to teach me all along. Every time I seek the Lord in this area, he tells me the same thing. Who are you doing this for? Is your purpose for man to see you? Or for Me to see you? Are you trying to impress people or are you ministering to Me? He reminded me Paul’s words in Colossians 3:23-24,

“Whatever you do, do it from the heart, as something done for the Lord and not for people, knowing that you will receive the reward of an inheritance from the Lord. You serve the Lord Christ.”

This hit me hard. What have I been doing this whole time? I loved to worship, I gave everything I had every time but when I was rejected the sadness overtook me. I didn’t have my focus on the right thing. I was wanting to be seen, acknowledged, validated. Over the last several months, the Lord has been working in me: It’s something done for the Lord and not for people.

This past weekend a really great friend of mine invited me to come lead worship at her church. The morning of everything was a mess. My son had been crying all night and my husband was taking him to the emergency room to make sure nothing was wrong (don’t worry, he is fine). But my morning didn’t go to plan. There was no peace in it. I didn’t get to warm up like I wanted and during rehearsal my toddler was running around distracting me.

Something really interesting happened despite the chaos—I was able to let go. I didn’t think about how I was singing at all. I realized that these people didn’t know my story. They were just hearing the worship God told me to lead them into. It wasn’t about perfection. It was about worship to the King of Kings. In that chaos those were still my kids, I still loved them, and poured into them. My heart was still for them. In the night, I spoke in tongues over the health of my son and sang over him. That was not for the attention of man.

So when I happened to be on a stage, I knew God was seeing me as I see my kids. And so I sang, just for Him.

This same sort of inadequecy I have felt about my writing. What would I even write? Would it matter to anyone?

And so as I sang the same truth applied here, what am I doing this for? Attention? Validation? Or did God put it on my heart for the right people at the right time?

The truth is, both my worship and my words belong to Him first. If He is the one who gave the gift, then He is also the one who will steward its fruit. My job is not to force recognition. My job is to be faithful.

To be Published March 27, 2026

This weekend, I uploaded my book files to be published. I added the manuscript, I added the cover, and I put in all the details. Today, as I write this, I am waiting for a proof of the paperback and hardcover books to arrive in the mail.

Sitting in contemplation of this moment, I am blown away by it. How is it that I wrote a book? It seems impossible. It could have been anyone. There isn’t anything I particularly have that others don’t. Maybe my story is uniquely mine, but I still wonder, why me?

The answer is simply this: God placed me in these particular situations where I could sit and write, where I was able to take all that I have experienced and put it on a page. I know it was cathartic for me, but deep in my heart I know that this book is for everyone who finds themselves in stages of waiting. I was given a unique story to tell, but it was written for all of you. It is no longer only mine, but yours too.

As I march toward my publication date, I’m afraid. Afraid that no one will buy my book, that no one will read it. But when I allow a moment of silence for this benchmark in my life, I am reminded that God is in control of this book, just as He was in every moment that went into its creation. Every moment in my life when I didn’t have the answer—He was present.

In the same way, I know in my heart that the right people will get my book at the right moment. I have very little control over how that happens, but isn’t that how all of life is?

I have nothing more to say in this moment because I am so overwhelmed, but what I will say is this: If you have a dream to do something, don’t give up on it. Don’t ever doubt that it could be you. Keep walking forward and trusting.

Silence and Solitude

I’m a middle school Language Arts teacher. Go ahead and say it, “Oh gosh, that sounds rough.” I get it all the time. And to be honest it isn’t that bad. Preteens are usually funny and interesting. Most of my classes listen and do what they need to do, but then there are the few that make my brain go numb.

There is always that class that, no matter what I do, can’t stop talking. The array of cuss words bounces around the room giving me a headache that grows and grows over the length of the period. Have you ever tried to hear someone whisper in an environment like that?

The sweetest student comes up to me for help and her words are lost to the tumult. I couldn’t hear her even if I tried.

Sometimes the entirety of our lives feel this way.

In 1 Kings 19:12, Elijah stood on the mountain waiting to hear the voice of God. Wind tore through the rocks. Was the Lord in the violent wind? No. There came an earthquake that shook the mountain. Was the Lord in the earthquake? No. There came a fire. Was the Lord in the fire? No. The Lord was not in the wind, nor the earthquake, nor the fire. After the chaos came the sound of a gentle whisper.

There is a question that rings in my ears. What do I do if I don’t know what the next season of my life holds? What if I don’t know what my next step is? What if I can’t hear the answer?

I know I’m not the only one that thinks this. Many of you reading this are thinking, “I can’t hear the answer. I can’t hear God.”

And so you’re stuck. The waiting is even worse because no matter how much you strain your ears to hear, it feels silent. But maybe it’s not the silence that’s the problem, maybe it’s the noise that we allow to fill our lives.

Like with Elijah, God’s voice is quiet—not absent.

We busy ourselves with the next thing. Our jobs become the sole focus of everything we do — just trying to get ahead. Who has the best car? The best house? Our phones become our partners and friends. We more quickly talk to ChatGPT or the most current version of AI over our spouse. We drive from work to our kid’s baseball game to church to home. Constantly on the go.

We think to ourselves, What could we possibly remove?

But the hurry is slowly killing our spiritual lives. We don’t stop long enough to breathe much less pray or spend time with God.

God is like the sweet student who is trying to come up to you and ask you a question or tell you something important. Can you hear Him? It might be too loud.

So then insert silence and solitude.

“Be still, and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10).

It’s time to take that time to slow down and wait to hear the voice of God. Be still. Create space. Allow yourself just to sit and listen for the next step, the answer, the next season.

Jesus Himself often went out to a place alone to pray (Luke 5:16). If the Son of God stepped away from the noise to commune with His Father, perhaps we should as well.

When we follow Him, stick close to Him, pause and listen for Him, we will know His voice. John 10:27 says, “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.”

In John Mark Comer’s book The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry he says, “In our ears we sense His voice cut through the cacophony of all the other voices, which slowly fade to the deafening roar of silence. In that silence, we hear God speak His love over us. Speak our identities and callings into being. We get His perspective on life and our humble, good places in it” (139).

So I challenge you today. Take 5 minutes. Pause. Breathe. In your mind repeat, “Be still, and know that I am God.”

He’s speaking to you. Come away with Me. I want to speak to you. I want to reveal the mysteries to you.

Sitting at the Gate

I started writing about waiting about a year ago. It had been bubbling inside me for some time. Charlie, my son, was really the beginning of my processing of waiting in life. Waiting to be pregnant. Then waiting for his birth. I have to admit that I didn’t think much of it before then. But now it fills my mind on a daily basis.

The funny thing is that it’s not just me. The more people I talk to the more I realize that it’s a universal human condition. We are all waiting for something. Sometimes it’s simple—waiting for the bus. Other times it’s heavier: healing, provision, direction, the next step. So really this conversation is for every single person because at the end of the day we are all waiting.

Out of all the different types of waiting I could discuss, I want to talk about miracles. I’m currently waiting for one myself.

Acts 3: 1-10 sticks out in my mind.

“Now Peter and John were going up to the temple for the time of prayer at three in the afternoon. A man who was lame from birth was being carried there. He was placed each day at the temple gate called Beautiful, so that he could beg from those entering the temple.” (1-2)

This man was waiting for his miracle from birth. He probably didn’t even know he was waiting for a miracle. He probably thought this would be the rest of his life. His entire life was out of his hands. He was brought from place to place—from home to beg—to beg and then home. That was his existence. But God had different plans for him.

“When he saw Peter and John about to enter the temple, he asked for money. Peter, along with John, looked straight at him and said, “Look at us.” So he turned to them, expecting to get something from them. But Peter said, “I don’t have silver or gold, but what I do have, I give you: In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, get up and walk!” (3-6)

Today was like any other day. He was brought to the temple gate like any other day. Begging from those entering the temple—as he did any other day. Hope in this man had quieted to nothingness. Apathy. A repetition of the same. He certainly did not expect for a miracle that day. He was expecting money, maybe a small amount of coin. But that isn’t what Peter had; he had something much greater. Maybe this is you—waiting for the miracle in your life. You have let your hope fade; no longer willing to ask because you don’t hear the answer or it hurts too much to go another day of asking without a response. It is the prayer you stopped praying. The job you stopped applying for. The healing you no longer expect. The dream you stopped seeking. The silence that feels louder than the noise around you.

This man had to show up to the gate thousands of times before his miracle took place. Day after day again and again. No, it may not take thousands of days for you but sometimes it will feel like thousands. You just need to keep showing up.

“Then, taking him by the right hand he raised him up, and at once his feet and ankles became strong. So he jumped up and started to walk, and he entered the temple with them—walking, leaping, and praising God.” (7-8)

With the healing of his body, this man also received something that was much more important. This man who was on the outskirts of society—an outcast—was returned to community. This was something he had never experienced. Now he was restored to where he belonged. In addition and more importantly this man was given a glimpse at who God is. God was worthy of his praise in a way he had never witnessed before. The man didn’t deserve the healing. He didn’t work for it. He didn’t ask for it. But out of God’s great mercy and love, He sent two of His disciples into a place where they would come into contact with this man. It’s not a coincidence. It’s God.

“All the people saw him walking and praising God, and they recognized that he was the one who used to sit and beg at the Beautiful Gate of the temple. So they were filled with awe and astonishment at what had happened to him.” (9-10)

Not only was this man changed by the miracle but so was everyone who saw him—everyone who knew him as the lame beggar outside the temple gate.

My miracle isn’t anything like this man’s. I’m believing for something much different but I’m encouraged by his story. If he received mercy he never even asked for, how much more can I trust that the Father sees my asking, my seeking, my waiting? No, I’m not implying that asking guarantees that I will receive what I ask. I’m drawn closer in connection with God and He helps me to see what I really need and what He will be providing for me today. So I speak my hopes out loud. Not because I believe I can force His hand but because I trust that He hears me and has the best for me. I believe God. And when He moves, I know it will be better than I imagined. And when that day comes I will be walking and praising Him so everyone knows what He has done. So I’m going to go sit at the gate and wait.