On the night of the GIFTaway announcement, I sat on my front porch with a broken heart, swollen sinuses, and bloodshot eyes from crying. At no fault but my own, I was misunderstood and judged. My character attacked, and my faith in question all because of my poor choice of words; and I didn’t want to carry on with my assignment anymore. I can’t say that I felt the intense agony that Jesus felt in the Garden of Gesthemene, but I definitely didn’t want to drink the cup of ministry anymore, and I asked for it to pass from me.
I thought about if I stopped ministry, I could get a job in the workforce, maybe become a school counselor again, and earn a paycheck. One that would pay for fancy vacations or the inground pool I once told Mikayla we would purchase before spending that money we had saved on the ministry building.
I thought about my days as just a stay-at-home domestic engineer with only the worry of not putting the wet clothes from the washer to the dryer before bed rather than if I forgot to respond to the heartbreaking email I received earlier that week, leaving them with the idea I didn’t care.
But as I thought about this life of “comfort,” that seemed free from stress and constant pain that seemed to be tucked away in my heart from serving others, I could hear God say, “You have a choice.”
And I knew what He was talking about.
I had the choice to choose for myself comfort over calling.
God is not making me choose ministry, just as He didn’t make Jesus choose the cross. It was out of love and obedience that Jesus chose His calling over the comforts of heaven and a life not marked by a gruesome death. And I, too, have a choice. Not life or death, but comfort or calling.
Do I choose to go back to my bubble or continue to live out my faith in the spotlight?
Do I choose to keep encouraging others on a prominent platform with scrutiny as my words can sometimes get twisted or not have clarity, yet also form bonds with strangers who have become friends who get me? Or do I keep my gift of encouragmemt to my inner circle of those whom I know are struggling with their fertility?
Weighing it all out, I looked to the heavens and whispered to God, “Twelve years is a long time in ministry. Jesus only had to do three. Surely, I’ve done my part, right?”
Silence.
“What do you want me to do, God?”
More silence.
It’s now Tuesday, two days after my Gesthemene moment, and the choice is still before me.
Continue or stop.
Comfort or calling.
I know the answer needs to be calling. If not, I’ll feel like Jonah in the belly of a whale, running from aasignment. But unlike Jesus, I would be choosing it out of obligation rather than love and obedience.
So, what do I do?
I want to make the right choice but with the right motives. Therefore, I need Him to purify my heart, restore to me the strength I once had, and have an increased passion to serve. I want the same kind of passion Christ had for the church. To lay it all down, sacrificing everything to follow His plans and purpose for my life and to serve the infertility and loss community He has given me without question. I don’t want to make this choice out of obligation, but devotion. And not out of fear, but love and obedience.
This week, while I ultimately will choose calling because I do love and obey God, I will also choose comfort as I let Him work on my heart, filling it back up with all the things required for ministry and working with others. I’m going to take time for myself, sleeping in, cooking my favorite meals, and watching more YouTube videos on how to curl my hair cause ya girl is still struggling with this short hair.
You might wonder what this has to do with you and your story of infertility. On the surface, this might not look like encouragement, and more of an announcement or page ripped from my journal.
But you, too, have to choose calling or comfort, especially when it comes to choices you have in building your family.
Are you going to give up because it’s less painful, so it would seem? Are you going to ignore the pull towards adoption because it’s not the easy path compared to the others? Will you lay it all down, your will, for His and welcome kids into your home from foster care? Or will you set aside your need for now and wait on God to direct your next steps, whichever direction it is that He chooses.
You see, every day, we all have the choice to make, with everything He calls us to do, and He leaves it up to us because He is a good God who doesn’t force, manipulate, or control.
And so I leave you with the question I am now asking myself, what will you choose?
Will it be comfort or calling?
“My flesh and my heart fail; But God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” Psalm 73:26
With all my love,
Elisha
