Benched.
Less than two years into marriage Chris and I each took a ministry position at a church in Phoenix, AZ, which was a long way from our home in Atlanta. For me it was a similar worship position, for him a total career change from I.T. to ministry. It was risky. Chris would take a huge pay cut. We’d leave behind our family and a church we loved. But we put on our big adventure pants and chased whatever God had next. It didn’t hurt that there was a Starbucks card included with the salary.
We listed our first home for sale and drove across country in Chris’ Honda Accord overflowing with our clothes, my keyboard and our little dog, Thatcher. We traveled across Texas, New Mexico and finally into Arizona. We saw the incredible Sedona for the first time and arrived in Anthem, AZ just in time to go straight to band practice. We were fast-tracked into church life and were both on stage leading worship by Sunday. Homeless and happy we just dove in. Truly though, the church was so gracious to furnish a home for us while we waited for ours to sell and the sweet Edwards family let us stay for free in one of their beautiful rental homes.
The culture shock that would follow was pretty fierce. It was such a different place. No more Bible Belt. No lush greenery. Goodbye sugarcoating everything. But it was also hello to amazing Mexican food, sunshine everyday and people with a hunger for God and willingness to talk about their struggles openly. And after a short time we began to appreciate this new kind of beauty and way of life.
Three months later our home in Georgia finally sold. We made the big move and just as we settled in we found out we were going to have our first baby. Talk. About. Shock. All kinds of fear went through our minds. How do we tell our parents? We just moved far far away from them. How do we tell our boss? He just moved us here. And for me-what’s going to happen to my career? I feared I’d be sidelined. That I wouldn’t be able to continue with this new, incredible opportunity. I wasn’t even sure they’d still want me. It was not how I imagined motherhood beginning. In fact, though I badly wanted to have babies I had never really imagined how it would start. I had always known that I wanted to work but I also knew that I didn’t want my kids raised full time by someone else. And I think deep down I was wondering if having kids would disqualify me from ministry. From pursuing my calling. From being Maribeth.
Our Pastor was one of the people we told first. Well, I say we, but Chris did the heavy lifting. I saw him a day or so later and he spoke the most alien words to me:
Maribeth I’m excited to see how being a mom will impact your worship leading. You’re going to have a new depth of experience. I can’t wait to see how God will use it.
I was sent back on my heels. First for his gracious response. And second at the seed planted that there was a possibility that being a mom didn’t disqualify me from pursuing my calling. It didn’t make me unfit for ministry. In fact maybe it would enhance my experience, grow my heart and allow me to connect with others in a new and deeper way. And even as my belly grew I began to understand the love of God more intricately. It made me want to work more efficiently and have more impact. I wanted to keep growing in my leadership. I wanted to prove that I could do both well and be a mom and a career woman. And I wanted to do it all for my new little family.
Pastor Steve’s words were the first spark of my realization that life would have many more facets than I ever could have imagined. And that my chasing after my singular calling or life’s purpose was way too simple a pursuit. For if it were that simple there would be too much ahead that just wouldn’t make sense.
Fast forward exactly ten years and I sat at coffee with a new friend, Natalie. I poured my heart out over letting go of full time ministry. Our forth little boy was on the way and we had just moved across the country for the third time. Back to the Bible Belt in Nashville, TN. I was unknown and had little reputation in our new community. And for the first time ever, I was a pastor’s wife that wasn’t a pastor. The business I started years earlier was struggling. I had no idea what the future held. I felt ill-fitted for my circumstances. These weren’t my people yet and I didn’t know my next move. There was so little I could control. And over a tall, decaf, almond milk latte my new friend’s words rang out:
Maribeth, for some reason God has you hidden right now. I don’t know why but He does.
And as it turns out, what I saw as being benched God saw as a time of preparation. Preparation for a time like this when I would step into the space between the hustle of entrepreneurialism and the calling of ministry. Where I would have a chance to lift up the chins of others who are doing their best to live with purpose but struggling with what’s next. For others who would sit for hours and ask God why and when and how he would deliver not realizing that every day is an important part of the process. I’m six years past that coffee. And wow have I wrestled with making sense of the mosaic nature of life and the meaning of purpose. But here’s what I’ve found:
The work God wants to do in you and through you he will do wherever he has you.
He doesn’t waste any of it. You’re not disqualified when things don’t go in the order or at the pace you imagined. You’re not obsolete even when you say a tearful goodbye to a dream, a career or a title.
So this is for you who may be questioning that you can still do great things. For those of you who think your resume or your mixture of experiences qualifies you for exactly nothing. I want to say to you what one of my heroes once said to me.
It’s impossible to find people like you.
There’s never been anyone in history like you and there’s never going to be another. Your quirky collection of talents, the life lived and even your mistakes are exactly what’s needed for the unique mark you will make on this world. So let today initiate a new beginning. A day where you truly begin to love not just where you’re going but where you are. For each difficult step forward is still just that. A step forward.