Note: It was difficult for me to decide if I wanted to publish this or not. Had to edited certain parts, even. But what eventually led me to just go for it was the thought of my future self telling my present self, “At one point in your life, you loved and worked and shared life with these amazing people doing crazy things that you all knew only God could pull off. Don’t forget this time. Don’t forget these people. May He complete the work that He started in all of us.”
By the time you read this, I’ve already made my decision to leave the ministry.
I have served here for the last four—nearing five—years of my life. And it was by far, both the hardest and easiest decision I ever had to make.
What made it the hardest had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with faith. Because it wasn’t about finding provision. It wasn’t about where to find my next job. It wasn’t about what people would say about my decision.
The ministry was a land I had been on for almost five years now—where I had sown most of my 20’s to, where I had wrestled with God many times over, and where I had reaped unseen treasures countless of times simply because I stayed on.
It was a place I had grown familiar with; where I met colleagues who turned into friends and spiritual family. And perhaps what makes it so hard is that, in such short notice, I would have to say goodbye to that land and to those people.
I would slowly have to wean off corresponding with them regularly for work, and grieve over the last time I saw them in person being the last time we were ever going to talk about whatever it was we were working on in that moment.
I would slowly have to come to terms with eventually going back to the building, step into the way-too-cold hallways (or maybe they’re not as cold anymore to save on electricity), and enter our office with no windows (which I’ve silently always complained about) just to collect my things once life goes back to normal (whenever that will be).
Goodbyes, for me, are always the hardest.
But, in the same breath, what made it the easiest decision had everything to do with faith and nothing to do with logic.
God has been speaking to me for, apparently, some time now. And despite the sharp and sudden heartbreak attached to this, what emerged in this experience was also this unexplainable joy, peace, and comfort as I witnessed God’s Word on my life finally taking form, finally seeing light.
Since January of this year, God has been ushering me out of something, but what it was, I wasn’t quite sure of. But the last month has been a time of clarity upon clarity for me. And as much as I grieve over the experiences and people I can no longer go back to in the same way, God has been filling me with His blessed assurance of my inheritance in Him.
He is too kind to be angry with.
He is too holy to be toyed with.
He is too clear to be misunderstood.
He is too present—I do not feel abandoned.
He is too good—I do not fear what the future brings.
He is too loving—I know I will always be taken care of.
He is too gracious—He will do beyond anything I can ask for and imagine.
And one day, I’ll look back at the last five years with less pain and grief in my heart. One day, I’ll look back and remember and pray and thank God for everyone He has brought into my life because of the place He called me to for a season.
But today, and with all the strength and grace I have that only comes from Him, I thank God for choosing to entrust me with the privilege to do ministry with Him in this way. I am undeserving and beyond grateful.
The ministry will be more and more and more than okay and will reap even greater things beyond my time (ten times better, with every generation that passes). And my life will go on because it does not belong to the ministry, a position, a role, a gifting, or a calling. My life belongs God and it is God’s alone.
P.S. A friend of mine handed this note to me after our content ideation meeting last January. Cool, right? But that’s another story altogether.
P.P.S. I collected my stuff last Tuesday, but I still can’t get myself to unpack any of them yet. The building is still cold. Our office still has no windows.