I've been learning that continuing to show up when there is no evidence of fruit, or any indication that what you're doing is actually working yet, really tests your why. It makes you sit with the work you're doing and ask yourself some hard questions. Why am I really showing up? Why do I keep coming back to this team and extending grace?When this girl keeps shutting me out, why should I keep loving her? When you're pouring into people and not seeing much change, it's easy to wonder if any of it is making a difference. And I've realized that those moments challenge your motivation. They bring to the surface what's really driving you. Because if my motivation for doing this, especially when it's hard and the field is still bare, isn't that these kids would come to know Christ and experience the life I've received in Him, then eventually that's going to become apparent. And when I find myself wrestling with those questions, I keep coming back to one thing.
I was that girl once.
I was the girl who needed someone but would never admit how hard things really were. I was trying to carry everything on my own and appear strong. I was surrounded by people, but deep down, I was walking completely alone. I looked fine. I was a happy kid in high school. I had it all held together, or that’s the way things appeared. Nothing affected me too much that other people noticed. I held people at arms length. And I did the same thing with God. Only revealing parts of myself to Him that felt comfortable.
I think about that version of myself often. And then I think about what Jesus did for me when I finally let my guard down and surrendered. I'll never forget the moments when He changed my life. When He reached into the pit I was in, pulled me out, and set my feet on solid ground. I know what it's like to live without the freedom I've now found in Him. And I know what it's like to experience that freedom for the first time.
I want that for these kids so badly. I know it is just as available to them as it was to me.
And remembering my own story has started to change the way I see theirs. When a student seems uninterested, when a girl keeps her distance, or when I feel like I'm not getting anywhere in a relationship, I'm learning to respond with more compassion and patience. Because I remember what it was like to be on the other side. I remember what it was like before I went all in with Jesus. And I think about the way He looked at me, loved me, and continued to pursue me even then. There's so much that can be happening beneath the surface of someone's life that we know nothing about. I know that because it was true of mine.
And now, when I look at these students, I can't help but dream and imagine. I sit there and notice their personalities, the things they're good at, the way they interact with their teammates, and the influence they already have. And sometimes all I can think about is what their lives might look like if they knew Jesus personally. I imagine how God could use their gifts. How He might steer their strongest qualities. How their relationships could change. How they would steward the hardship they’ve been handed. How they could influence their teams and the people around them. I see so much potential in who God has made them to be, and I crave for them to know Him. And to be honest, it's hard knowing I can't make that happen for them. I can show up. I can love them. I can share my life with them. But I can't choose Him for them. That's something I'm learning to surrender.
Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 3:6, "I planted the seed in your hearts, and Apollos watered it, but it was God who made it grow." I keep coming back to that picture. I can be faithful to plant. I can keep watering. But the growth belongs to God. And just because in some places I can't see anything growing yet doesn't mean He isn't working. So until these students come to believe and pursue Jesus for themselves, I can keep praying for them. I can keep speaking hope over their lives. I can keep believing that God is capable of doing more in them than I could ever imagine. I can have faith for what is to come for them. I trust that His timing will be perfectly placed in each of their stories, even when the waiting is hard for me.
But I think what God is showing me right now is that it's not just about what happens when the fruit finally comes. It's about who I'm becoming and how I'm choosing to live while the field is still bare.
Will I keep showing up when I don't see results? Will I keep extending grace when it's not returned? Will I keep loving these kids when they don't seem to want anything to do with Jesus? Will I keep trusting that God is working, even when I can't see it? I want the answer to be yes. Not because I know what their stories will look like, but because I remember what He did with mine. And if continuing to show up gives me the opportunity to be even a small part of pointing one of these students toward the Jesus who changed my life, then I want to be faithful with that opportunity.
Even when the field is still bare.