How ministry became part of my story.

Have you ever started sorting through old things, intending to clear some space, only to spend hours wandering through memories?

That happened to me this past week. As I looked through old photographs, documents, and files, I found myself laughing, pausing, and getting a little emotional. What began as an effort to organize turned into a reminder of how much life I have lived, and how faithfully God has walked with me.

One memory led to another, and soon I was thinking about how I found my way into ministry.

Growing up as a pastor’s kid, working in church was near the bottom of my list of ambitions. I wanted to be a pilot, fly around the world, and eventually own a big house overlooking the beach. Apparently, my younger self also thought this picture needed a cigar in my hand!

I had quite a plan.

But while I was dreaming about the skies, something was taking shape through my ordinary days of volunteering at church. Mentors and friends began suggesting that ministry might be something I should consider.

For months, I played Jonah with the idea. Then a staff member challenged me to try the church’s internship program for six months.

Six months became a year, and before I knew it, I was on staff, serving in children’s ministry.

Working with children taught me things I could never have learned entirely from a classroom, a book, or a training session. Children have a way of bringing you fully into the moment. They ask the questions adults hesitate to ask. They tell you exactly how they feel, sometimes at the most inconvenient time. Their curiosity can turn a carefully planned lesson into a conversation you never saw coming.

And somewhere between their questions, laughter, and interruptions, they begin teaching you too.

I learned to listen, to be patient, and to explain things simply. I began to understand how much it matters for a child to feel noticed, safe, and loved. Those experiences shaped me in ways I am still discovering. There is much more to that part of the story, and I hope to share it another time.

In June 2013, a colleague and I were invited to help with a children’s summer camp at a partner church in the United States. That experience opened my eyes to new possibilities for serving across cultures. Over time, opportunities took me to parts of Asia, Europe, and America. As I met people and served alongside them, my understanding of the world, and my place in it began to grow.

Looking through those memories, I found myself in tears.

I remembered the joy, but I also remembered how tired I had been. The long Sundays. The afternoons running kids’ clubs. The late nights my friends and I spent writing curriculum. The volunteer bins that needed preparing and the evenings when I was still working after everyone else had gone home.

I also remembered seasons when I gave more than I knew how to sustain. I loved the work, but I had not yet learned how to pace myself or recognize when I needed rest. Looking back, I can appreciate the service while also recognizing that I needed care too.

There were nights I went to bed asking God what He was doing with my life.

Many of my friends were already in college, preparing for careers with recognizable titles and clearer paths. I was working with children, and sometimes I struggled to explain why that mattered, or where it would lead.

I still remember how much it hurt when a friend asked what was wrong with my life and why I was spending it in children’s ministry.

At the time, I did not have a convincing answer. I knew the work mattered, but I was still trying to understand how it fit into my future.

Now, I can see some of what was growing in those years: a love for young people, an interest in other cultures, a willingness to serve, and the ability to lead and care for others. I can also see the people who believed in me before I understood what I had to offer.

What felt uncertain then has become a meaningful part of the person I am today.

We rarely know how life will unfold. We make plans, take opportunities, change direction, and sometimes wonder whether we have fallen behind. It can be difficult to value the season we are in when someone else’s path looks clearer.

But looking back has helped me become gentler with the younger version of myself who did not have it all figured out. He was learning. He was trying. He was doing meaningful work, even when he could not see where it would lead.

Perhaps you need that same kindness today.

You may be in a season that is difficult to explain. You may be doing work that few people notice, waiting for an opportunity, or questioning a decision you once felt sure about. You do not have to force an explanation for everything right now.

There may be things worth noticing along the way: a relationship that is helping you grow, a skill you are developing, a need you are learning to recognize, or a small opportunity to make someone’s day better.

And you are allowed to ask for help, rest, or change direction as you discern what comes next.

I still have questions about parts of my journey. Yet those old memories reminded me that I have much to be grateful for. God met me through people, places, and experiences I would never have thought to include in my original plan.

Sometimes I can look back and smile: “Lord, I see a little more of what You were doing there. Thank You.”

I hope you find moments like that too.

Take time to remember the people who encouraged you, the doors that opened, and the difficult days you made it through. Let those memories offer courage for what is still uncertain.

God loves you in this part of the story too. You can bring Him your questions, your hopes, and your unfinished plans, and take the next step knowing you are deeply loved.