3 years ago I was quickly climbing the corporate church ladder.

After surrendering my life to Jesus my sophomore year of college, I was thrust into a calling of being a voice for my generation. Within months of saying “Yes,” I was preaching the gospel in the Alaskan wilderness to teenagers and adults from all walks of life. I barely knew my Bible but I had my face buried in it every second I had. Without constant help from the Holy Spirit, I was completely unequipped for the tasks at hand.

I came back to the lower 48 and my responsibilities grew. I was now a toddler in the faith (inches past “baby”) and was doing my best to teach Jesus to a bunch of college freshman (though the teaching was completely mutual). I attended my Bible classes and took vigorous notes, trying to wrap my mind around something so epic. It was a time in my life where I couldn’t hardly order a burrito without asking for the Lord’s direction – I was so aware of my inabilities that the Holy Spirit was in the driver’s seat of my life.

The night before my senior year of college, a worship service in our chapel sparked a campus-wide revival that burned for months and miles. The Lord called a few of us “B-teamers” to lead the way and it was incredible to see the transformation of our student body. Guys that had been cheating on their college exams a year earlier were now leading discipleship groups in the dorms. People were sitting on the floor in chapel because there weren’t enough seats. We built in extra worship services during the week because people were starving for Jesus.

That Spring, I spoke to the student body about community in chapel – a calling to a higher level of friendship and authenticity was burning in my heart and we all needed to step into it. After that message a few people came up to me to share how the Lord spoke into their lives. A professor told me I was “anointed” and there were “big things in store” for me.

I look back at that day as a turning point for me. In that short few minutes the enemy got a grip on my soul by speaking the simple phrase “You’ve got what it takes – you don’t need him anymore. Fame and glory are within reach.”

From that point on my mentality shifted from “I can’t do this without Jesus” to “nobody can do this without me.“

I stopped sharing the role of teaching with my brothers and sisters because I believed I did it best. I would listen to others preach and wish it were me because I believed I would have more impact. The next summer I was the “Camp Pastor” at a summer camp and was so obsessed with my way that I actually re-preached a speaker’s gospel message after he sat down. (I call it my personal Kanye moment, a low point).

I didn’t quite have my plans in place for post-summer, but I figured I’d be touring the country somehow. I was interviewing with the fastest growing evangelistic movement in the country, assuming I would be the “next big thing” in Christian speaking circles.

But that’s when God in His radical grace provided exactly what I needed:

I got benched.

Not just “sit this game out” benched, but “pack your bags, leave everyone you know and who knows you, and move 500 miles away to the middle of nowhere” benched.

Before I moved I had a few speaking engagements which I thought would be “no sweat” – they were topics I had taught on multiple times and it would require no prep. But as I stood up on stage at a women’s retreat I couldn’t put two words together – a few people walked out before I even finished my introduction! I didn’t know what was happening to me, but I felt like Michael Jordan in Space Jam. Straight zapped.

I made the move to oil patch and everything in my life changed. I went from being a leader to a dishwasher. I went from being the “next big thing” to the girl who didn’t know the difference between detergent and fabric softener. All of my securities were stripped away like a rug being pulled out from under me.

I spent a lot of the first two years clawing my way back up. I tried to write a book (the next bestseller, of course). I took strong political stances via Facebook to gain followers (and opponents). Any chance I could get to display my prominence I did.

But nobody cared.

Over time I settled into my new lifestyle and I started to realize just how idolatrous I had become. The surest way to find your idols is to lose them – lots of anger and tears will ensue. (Google the 2006 Twins playoff run and imagine how I responded).

I saw a quote about a year into my sabbatical that struck me.

“Spiritual maturity is the consistent application of elementary things.”

At some point I had found myself “above” the elementary things and only pursued things that had a big payout. I viewed “alone time” as a waste of time. I only wanted to invest in people I thought would change the world. Ministry trumped sleep every time. My physical health found a permanent spot on the back burner of my priority list. I viewed anyone who wasn’t getting bloody on the mission field as complacent and even questioned their salvation.

It was time to cultivate the elementary things.

Getting 8 hours of sleep. Making it to work on time. Doing thankless jobs. Making a budget. Tidying my apartment every day. Evaluating my commitments. Giving up my lifelong addiction to Mountain Dew. Submission to authority. Reading my Bible every morning. Deleting my social media accounts to create space for God to speak into my life. Creating platforms for my brothers and sisters to use their gifts.

All things that are “elementary,” but I had neglected on my journey to stardom. I had platforms and followers, but I was growing more immature by the minute.

I can’t say these last three years have been my favorite in my timeline. So many days I would wake up wanting to do something that mattered – to make an impact on the broken world I lived in. But I was just a girl washing bar glasses and stocking beer, facilitating nightly parties for wealthy men. The growth in my life was slow and grueling – offering little fruit or trophies. But God continued to hold me in that place, shaping and molding me into something He could use.

My roommate and I decided to plant a garden this year. It was our first year planting one of our own and we got mixed results. Our spaghetti squash took over our entire garden, with vines stretching a dozen feet from its origin (we’ve deemed SS an extrovert). Of course we had tomatoes coming out of our ears (most of which we lost in a random freeze that we were both out of town for). But so many seeds didn’t yield anything – no peas, cucumbers, carrots, or peppers.

One morning I was wrestling with God (we do this a lot). I was thankful for this season of refining, but afraid I was still in the same place I was two years prior when I had been benched. I went out to the garden to pick some beans and pulled back a leaf to find the biggest cucumber I’ve ever seen in my life. I checked the other plants and found zero cucumbers, not even a pickle! Just the one.

I had checked that cucumber plant 50 times and never seen any fruit – I swear that cucumber just appeared. I laughed to myself. It seemed it was God’s way of saying “you are growing, even if you can’t see the process.”

I used to measure growth and progress in conversions and disciples, radical movements and miracles. My production became such an idol that I forgot the simple truth that I am God’s beloved. He has called me into His family not because I am worthy, but because He wants me (Romans 8!). How could I possibly carry His flag to the nations without that foundational truth?

This blog doesn’t end with a radical announcement that I’m diving headfirst back into the mission field with a role that puts me center stage. As of today I’m not leaving Williston to go abroad and I don’t have a “ministry” job lined up. I’m just waking up every day, applying those elementary things. Learning what it looks like to rely on the Holy Spirit again. God will move me at the right time, not necessarily when I’m ready – but when He is.

“If you are faithful in little things, you will be faithful in large ones. But if you are dishonest in little things, you won’t be honest with greater responsibilities.”

Epilogue

I’ve been bartending for two years to pay off my loans, and felt the Lord give me “October 15th” as my final day. I was looking forward to being done with that vocational season of my life, but slightly frustrated that I had seen so little fruit in that environment. Two days before my last shift, I got word that one of the chefs at my restaurant had had a brain aneurysm overnight. We had worked together in two restaurants for a total of two years and had become good friends. A few of my co-workers and I went to say goodbye to him at the hospital the morning they would take him off life support. We were able to meet his son and 4 of his 5 sisters – who were all in town from Sacramento. I felt convicted to offer to do a memorial service for him – even though I’m not “ordained,” I’m probably the closest thing to a minister in our line of work. The next night we had a small memorial service at the restaurant I worked at. With the leading of the Holy Spirit, I was able to preach the explicit gospel in all its fullness in front of most of my co-workers past and present.

What a crazy way to end that season of my life. Almost 800 days of elementary application leading up to that single opportunity to preach Christ crucified.