Every month seems to follow the same pattern. I begin with hope and determination, convinced that this month will be different. Then somewhere along the way, life catches up with me. The questions get louder, the overthinking begins, and I’m reminded just how little control I actually have.
Lately, I’ve been wrestling with God’s will. I’ve become so afraid of making the wrong decision that every choice feels loaded with eternal consequences.
What if I change jobs and derail my career?
What if I move and miss the community God had for me?
What if I miss the person I’m supposed to marry?
What if I unknowingly step outside God’s will?
My mind has become a home for “what ifs.”
I know God created me. I believe He knows every day of my life before I live it. But somewhere along the way, trusting Him started feeling more like trying not to disappoint Him. Instead of walking with Him, I find myself trying to predict Him. It’s exhausting. Prayer has become difficult. Reading Scripture feels tedious. Not because I don’t believe anymore, but because I don’t have the energy to pretend I’m okay. Then there’s the familiar cycle of messing up, promising to do better, falling again, apologizing again, and wondering how many times God watches me return with the exact same confession.
Sometimes all I can whisper is, “I’m tired.” And I think that’s the truest prayer I’ve prayed in a long time. But this month wasn’t all darkness. I went to a Millennial Cookout with friends. We danced to old-school ’90s music, laughed until our stomachs hurt, and for a few hours, I forgot how heavy my thoughts had become. I attended a little girl’s birthday party: good food, meaningful conversations, children laughing, and people simply showing up for one another. I hosted a friend in my home. I finished my Connect Class at church and now wait to join a home fellowship and begin discipleship classes.
Work has become busier. More responsibilities are finding their way onto my desk. I’m grateful for the trust, even as I quietly hope for something more permanent than another consulting contract. I’m building a portfolio while praying that one day I’ll build a career that feels stable. I’ve even caught myself dreaming about finding a remote job on the side. Not because I desperately need the money, but because I’d like a little breathing room. The freedom to enjoy life without calculating every purchase. Yet underneath all of that is another question I’ve been carrying. When is it going to be my turn? Right now, so much of my life feels like it’s for God and for everyone else. And yes, it’s also for me. But it doesn’t always feel that way. If marriage isn’t here yet…If children aren’t here yet…If the deep friendships I’m praying for aren’t here yet…Can I at least have one thing? The stable career. The work travel. The benefits. The permanent job. The apartment that feels more like home.
Lately I’ve even been thinking about moving somewhere with a little more life. Somewhere that feels like the version of adulthood I’ve imagined for myself. Then I catch myself wondering if those desires make me ungrateful. I don’t think they do. I think gratitude and longing can exist in the same heart. Whoever sold us the adulting dream definitely left out this part. Nobody tells you that adulthood isn’t just paying bills and decorating apartments. It’s carrying uncertainty every single day while still showing up to work, replying to emails, attending church, making dinner, paying rent, investing for retirement, and pretending you know what you’re doing. Somewhere along the way I realized something. I’m 35. I actually feel like a grown-up now. I’m making five-year plans. I’m thinking about a bigger car. A more senior title. Investing more intentionally. Building wealth instead of just earning income. Creating a life that’s sustainable instead of merely surviving. And as strange as it sounds, that realization has been both exciting and terrifying.
The month wasn’t all waiting.
I watched The Odyssey and absolutely loved it. I watched Spider-Man: Brand New Day. I went bowling with friends. I’ve been making a conscious effort to say yes to life, to spending time with people I enjoy and create memories instead of waiting until everything else falls into place.
How are we already in Q3? Looking back, so much of what God promised me has actually come to pass. Not all of it. But enough that I can see His fingerprints on this season. I’m choosing to believe the rest of the story is still unfolding. Toward the end of the month, I finally caught up on a few church sermons I’d missed while I was feeling spiritually drained. One message in particular stayed with me. It was about when self becomes god. I felt convicted. I’ve been stubborn about fully embracing my new church. Deep down, I’ve acted as though I know better than everyone else there, which is ridiculous considering I’m still learning. I immediately asked God to teach me humility, and perhaps His silence about why I’m there has been part of the lesson.
As I think about Q3, my goals are surprisingly simple. I want to practice intermittent fasting again. Walk for at least twenty minutes each day on my treadmill. Read more. Be intentional with my quiet time. Not because I’m trying to earn God’s approval, but because I want my life to reflect the person He’s shaping me into. I’m done wallowing in self-pity. I’m choosing small, faithful steps. A version of me that’s fully surrendered to God. As July comes to an end, I’m beginning to see that a surrendered life isn’t a life without desires. It’s a life that places every desire, career, marriage, friendships, finances, home, dreams, timelines into God’s hands again and again.
...THROUGH MY EYES ✨ 