On decisions

and making our home with God

“Many Christians approach decisions as though God has hidden the correct answer somewhere and our job is to decode the clues.

Did the door open?

Did someone say the right phrase?

Did the same Bible verse appear twice?

But Scripture usually describes wisdom less like solving a riddle and more like becoming the kind of person who can choose faithfully.

God may care less about whether you decipher the secret plan than about who you become while deciding.”

Josh Daily, MD

I recently made the decision to pursue a couple of new endeavors¹. Like so many of those I meet with in counseling sessions, and I’m sure many of you reading this, I have my own history of confusion and frustration surrounding how to discern God’s will. I labor over decisions slowly and deliberately.² And I’ve had to continually grow in my capacity to receive from God, his love and care for me, in the midst of what remains difficult to discern. In the end, it’s been a long exercise in making my home with God. He has held my questions tenderly these years, guiding me into absolute certainty that he goes before me and with me wherever I am.

There have been a handful of key people in my life over the past two years that have further shaped and confirmed my life’s calling. Their influence did not lead me to a specific decision, but have consistently been a source of confirming presence, reminding me of God’s will to see people with clear eyes and a humble heart. Earlier this summer, I was welcomed at a retreat with thirty or so women who have experienced unspeakable abuses and in many cases, cast out from their communities or alienated from family members, even their own children, because they chose to say “no more,” to declare that it is very much not God’s will for humans to be mistreated in such vile and violent ways. In my ReStoried group this year, I heard account after account of women who were not only harmed in their homes, but in their churches. The problem of abuse has not gotten smaller or less pervasive. Sure, to some degree, there are more resources available, and public awareness in general on the topic has increased. Yet, there’s been almost a parallel effort to move on to other issues at best, and to shame, even silence, those who speak out on this issue at worst. Sadly, the degrees of spiritual harm that I encounter, as I walk with these women, has only become more intense and common.

My inner sense of conviction (my conscience) to advocate for victims and survivors has only gotten louder in recent years. I’ve spent a good deal of my life trying to quiet my calling, seeing it as something to tame or fit a particular framework or audience. As I met with my mentor last year, I was challenged by the question: What if what bothers me most about myself is actually a feature and not a bug? I spent months revisiting the Beatitudes and the Gospels, noticing with fresh eyes how much of Jesus’ time was spent with those pushed to the margins of society, and those who are used or trampled on by the powerful. I have discovered more and more that this is where I belong. This has been, and is, God’s will for my life. I want my heart to stay soft³, and that work of growth and transformation happens best when I’m sitting with, advocating for, and companioning the most vulnerable — those who are overlooked, dismissed, or misunderstood, and those who typically have little or no recourse because they lack power and position. This is my vocation, and I consider it to be something I cannot disregard or delay at this stage of my life. It’s taken me a long time to be able to say that I want more.

I don’t share these things to baptize my decision as a particularly holy endeavor, or as more right or righteous than other choices. The day-to-day logistics and particulars of our jobs are the minor details. I am certain of my calling and it does not shift regardless of where I get my paycheck or hold a title. My calling goes with me wherever I go. My calling is to do the Father’s will, and to make him my home wherever I am – to “dwell in the shelter of the Most High.”⁴

1. I will be offering counseling and consulting services (virtually) at The Journey and the Process, beginning August 1, 2026. I would love to support you, particularly if you are recovering from abuse and trauma or looking for spiritual formation support that is gently spacious and slow-paced. I will also be expanding my ReStoried groups as 2027 approaches, as well as continuing to speak at events and gatherings.

2. That labor used to be more about my fear of making the wrong ones. I am still slow and deliberate, but now it is because of my increasing capacity to remain present even when I am uncomfortable. Fear remains at times (I don’t like risks!), but a commitment to honesty about my journey toward wholeness has eclipsed those fears. This is a profound work of the Holy Spirit in my life, and I do not want to take it for granted. I bless that work, and I bless God for it.

3. I read this type of wording by another writer a while back, and while I can’t seem to recall who said something about “staying soft,” it resonated with my present experiences and I don’t want to borrow it without attribution.

4. Psalm 91:1-2