What If Your Next Step Changes Everything?

If you had asked me a year ago how things were going in my life, I would have said that things were the hardest they had ever been.

And I would have been wrong.

My hardest days were yet to come, but there was no way of knowing this. All I could think about was the hardships I was facing in the moment. My father was in declining health with a severe heart condition. Multiple members of my family were experiencing mental health crises. My marriage was strained. My finances were tight. My job was relentlessly stressful. And to top it off, my grad schoolwork was steadily piling up on me.

Really, it was all piling up. A breaking point or a breakthrough was imminent. I just didn’t know when or how it would arrive.

I don’t recall having much, if any, downtime during this period. I simply pivoted from one responsibility to the next for months on end. The only form of temporary relief came from my workouts, which I managed to get in several times a week. The one thing I knew I had to do well was take care of myself physically so that I could keep carrying everything on my shoulders. In a season when so much felt uncertain, it felt good to accomplish something I could control, even if it was as small as getting a workout in before the stress of the day began.

What I began to realize was that overall, I really wasn't doing wellness very well. I focused on my physical well-being, believing that the most important thing was to sustain my ability to keep going. I ate well and exercised to maintain the energy, strength, and endurance I needed to run the race before me. But I completely misprioritized the importance of my mental and spiritual health. That’s not to say those areas were absent. I was aware of my stress, anxiety, and emotional state, and I meditated on God’s Word and prayed often, but admittedly not nearly consistently enough. More often than not, I neglected those areas in favor of physical activities that offered more immediate, tangible results. While not the best solution, this approach helped sustain me enough to get through the days. That is, of course, until life got even harder.

Doctors gave an estimate that my father had no more than 18 months to live. One month later, he was placed in hospice care. Two weeks after that, right before Christmas, he passed away. Needless to say, it was a shock to me and my family, especially since we thought there would be more time. Nothing can truly prepare you for the passing of a parent. Loss and grief consume your mind. So do the responsibilities that come with planning a funeral and settling estate affairs. Add in all the other stress already weighing on me, and it was nearly debilitating. However, I was grateful to have a job that allowed me to take a good amount of time off, shelving the job stress so that I could to attend to this new and painful season.

Upon returning to work  I encountered even more challenges. The new presidential administration implemented sweeping changes that impacted government employees. New executive orders, policies, and tight deadlines not only disrupted work as usual but also shrouded every day with a cloud of uncertainty about where things were headed. Leaders were challenged with leading their organizations. Career employees were anxious about losing their jobs. Unexpected deferred resignations and early retirement opportunities were offered and heavily incentivized. For six months, a heavy sense of anxiety and uncertainty consumed me, my workplace, and my colleagues.

As a leader I had to manage my own concerns while trying to comfort those around me. New updates from leadership carried new implications for the job. We faced the possibilty of reorganizations, reassignments, or program freezes. I carried a new burden to appear calm and confident, even though the truth was that no one really knew what was next. My team looked at me for answers, but all I could offer was transparency with what I did, and did not know, empathy, and reassurance that we would face the changes together.

Beneath the surface I was exhausted. Mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. The weight of it all had started to erode my self-confidience. I moved through each day repressing my emotions, in order to function well enough to juggle a million tasks and worries, all while questioning every decision I made. My ability to rest and recharge suffered. My nights were restless. My mind replayed conversations, decisions, and worst-case scenarios over and over again. I carried an unspoken fear that if I just stopped trying to juggle it all, even for a moment, everything around me would completely fall apart, including myself.

It was in this space of depletion and quiet desperation that I finally realized something had to change. The constant pressures, the exhaustion, and the feeling of barely holding things together were unsustainable. I prayed honestly and desperately for clarity.

Through prayer, I began to realize that what I once viewed as perseverance through adversity had quietly evolved into self-reliance. I saw that I was trying to maintain control to preserve an illusion of stability and certainty. Fear of things falling apart—not faith—was driving me. And the harder I tried to manage everything myself, the further peace seemed to slip away.

Leaving my job was something I never considered, as I had several years to go until retirement eligibility. It definitely wasn’t a thought at all going into the year. Even the consideration stirred up a quick dismissal of the idea, replacing it with the reminder of being in golden handcuffs—the comfort of financial and professional security that makes leaving feel impossible, even if what’s needed. After more than two decades of national security service, the thought of stepping away from the stability, the mission, and a part of my identity, felt impossible. But deep down, I knew it was the next step the Lord was asking me to take. It wasn’t a decision to be made from frustration or fear, but one out of faith. And, I did just that.

Accepting the deferred resignation was both terrifying and freeing. Terrifying, because I had no clear roadmap for what came next. Freeing, because for the first time in years, I wasn’t just reacting to life’s demands, I was listening and obeying God’s direction. The opportunity allowed me to spend more time with my family, breathe, grieve, and begin to examine and cultivate better habits in the parts of myself I had neglected.

This season also opened my eyes towards the need to pursue holistic wellness over physical health. For years I focused primarily on physical wellness, but now realized that true wellness is wholesome, requiring attention towards integration of mind, body, and spirit. This realization led me to make another decision I never would have imagined a year ago doing, to begin seminary school, which I started this summer. I am now focused on learning how to bring together wellness and faith into a unified, God-centered approach to living and serving others.

This year has been the hardest of my life, but it has also been one of the most clarifying. I’ve learned that wellness isn’t just about health, but about alignment with what truly matters. I’ve learned that sometimes obedience doesn’t come with immediate results.And I’ve learned that peace isn’t found in having control, but in trusting the One who does.

I don’t know exactly what’s next for me. The challenges haven’t disappeared. Fear regularly tries to hijack my thoughts. There are still unanswered questions and new uncertainties, including where my next professional chapter will begin. But I am certain of one thing; every step, even the painful ones, has been ordered with purpose.

“The Lord directs the steps of the godly. He delights in every detail of their lives. Though they stumble, they will never fall, for the Lord holds them by the hand.”

Psalms‬ ‭37‬:‭23‬-‭24‬ ‭NLT‬‬

Looking back over this year, I can see how God’s steady hand has guided me through the hardest season of my life (so far!) He’s shaping my faith, refining my priorities, and reminding me that true wellness and stability doesn’t come from myself or my circumstances, it comes from His presence and direction.

Remember that your next step is the only one that matters.

It could lead you out of the storm. Or it could lead into a storm.

Be less concerned with where it leads you, and be most concerned with who is leading you.

The goal is not to control your path but to walk it faithfully.

When you trust God to lead, even the hardest, uncertain steps become part of His plan to bring you peace, purpose, and renewal.