One of the lessons the Lord has continued teaching me since my conversion is that growth in one area of the Christian life does not mean maturity in every area. By His grace, He had brought me into a faithful local church, surrounded me with godly shepherds, given me a growing love for His Word, and begun teaching me how to lead my family and use writing for the encouragement of His people. Yet beneath all of that, there remained sins that had not yet been fully exposed.

Sanctification is often slower than we expect and more thorough than we desire. The Lord does not merely prune one branch of the heart and leave the rest untouched. He faithfully continues His work until every corner of our lives is brought beneath the lordship of Christ. Sometimes that work comes through seasons of great encouragement. At other times it comes through painful failures that reveal what still remains within us. 

For me, one of those seasons centered around my work. After my conversion, I continued working for VSC Fire & Security. The Lord had been kind in providing stable employment, and I truly was thankful for it. My last position was in purchasing, and it allowed me to provide for my family while remaining actively involved in the life of our church. We were by no means wealthy. We lived from paycheck to paycheck, as so many families do. Yet the Lord continually proved Himself faithful in supplying our daily needs.

Like many husbands and fathers, however, I desired to improve our circumstances. There is nothing inherently sinful about wanting to provide more faithfully for one’s family. Scripture commends diligent labor and teaches that a man ought to care well for those entrusted to him. But even good desires can become mixed with selfish ambition or impatience if they are not governed by wisdom.

Around that time, a brother from our church approached me about an opportunity with a flooring company called Floor Authority. From everything I was told, it appeared to be an answer to prayer. The position promised an annual salary of around seventy thousand dollars, a significant increase from what I was earning. Just as attractive were the hours I was told to expect. Rather than long workdays, I was led to believe from the interviews with the bosses that the schedule would generally be from eight in the morning until four in the afternoon.

To a husband and father, that sounded almost ideal. More income would ease many of the financial pressures our family felt. Around the same work hours as what I had at VSC would mean I would still get the evenings at home with Sabrina and the children. I imagined family dinners without feeling rushed, more opportunities to serve within the church, and time to invest in family worship and the ordinary rhythms of life that I had come to treasure.

Everything about the opportunity appeared to move in the direction I believed I wanted my life to go. So I accepted the position. Looking back, one detail still stands out to me. I did not seek counsel before making the decision. I prayed about it. I considered it carefully from my own perspective. I weighed what seemed to be the advantages and disadvantages. But I never intentionally sought the wisdom of the pastors or brothers the Lord had placed around me. At the time, that omission did not seem significant. The opportunity appeared so obviously beneficial that I saw little reason to involve anyone else in the decision.

Only later would I realize how often we fail to seek counsel precisely when we believe we already know the answer. The transition itself was filled with optimism. I genuinely believed this would be a season in which the Lord would allow me to care for my family more effectively while also freeing me to be more present in our home and church. I was grateful for what I believed was His provision. I had no idea how differently things would unfold.

The reality of the position became apparent almost immediately. The schedule I had anticipated never materialized. Rather than beginning at eight in the morning and finishing around four in the afternoon, my days routinely started around six in the morning. Most evenings I did not leave until six, and sometimes later. Even when I finally pulled into the driveway, the workday often was not over.

My phone would ring. Messages needed answering. Service tickets had to be created or completed. Schedules for the following day needed to be arranged. There always seemed to be another task demanding my attention before I could finally set my phone down and be present with my family. It was not unusual for another hour or two of work to follow me into the house each evening. The very thing I had hoped would give me more time with my family was steadily taking it away.

None of this is written as a criticism of Floor Authority. They expected me to fulfill the responsibilities that came with the position they had entrusted to me. The fault did not lie in the company expecting the work to be done. Rather, the job simply proved to be very different from what I had expected when I accepted it. 

As the weeks passed, exhaustion slowly became part of my normal routine. The mornings came early. The evenings ended late. By the time my responsibilities were finally finished, I often had little strength left to give the people who deserved my best. I found myself arriving home physically present but mentally occupied. My thoughts remained fixed on unfinished work, tomorrow’s schedule, problems that still needed solving, and responsibilities waiting for me when the next morning arrived.

There is a unique sadness in realizing that your children have been waiting all day to see you, only to discover that you have almost nothing left to give them. I would greet them, listen as they excitedly told me about their day, and desire to engage with them. Yet my mind often felt clouded by fatigue. Even after the work on my phone was complete, I found it difficult simply to be present. Sabrina carried far more of the burden at home than I had anticipated she would. While I spent long days managing work, she faithfully cared for our children, homeschooled them, took on watching her little brother during the school year for her mother, managed the household, and continued encouraging me despite seeing how drained I had become.

Looking back, I am thankful for her patience during those months. At first, I kept convincing myself things would improve. “This is only temporary,” I would think. “I just need to settle into the position.” “Once everyone gets used to me being here, the schedule will become more manageable.” Days became weeks. Weeks became nearly two months. Nothing changed. If anything, the demands only increased.

The longer I remained there, the more discouraged I became. I had accepted the position believing it would allow me to be a more faithful husband and father. Instead, I felt as though I was slowly becoming less available to the very people I had accepted the job to serve. That tension weighed heavily upon me.

Wanting to provide for one’s family is a good and necessary desire. Yet a husband is called to do more than simply earn a paycheck. He is called to dwell with his wife in an understanding way. He has a calling to bring up his children in the discipline and instruction of the Lord. He is to shepherd his home.

As I compared those responsibilities with the life I was presently living, I became increasingly convinced that something could not continue as it was. The conclusion I eventually reached, however, was not nearly as wise as I believed it to be. By the beginning of July, I had already reached a decision in my own heart. Though I had not yet submitted my resignation, I was no longer weighing my options. In my mind, the matter was settled. I simply had not yet acted upon it.

There was only one person whom I did speak honestly with before submitting my resignation. I told Sabrina what I intended to do. She had walked beside me through those long weeks. She had seen the late nights, the exhaustion, the frustration, and the growing strain the job had placed upon our family. If anyone would have readily agreed with my decision to leave immediately, I thought it would be her.

Instead, she wisely counseled me to give proper notice. She was not telling me I had to remain at Floor Authority indefinitely. She understood why I believed I should leave. But she encouraged me to leave honorably. She urged me to think carefully before making a decision that could not be undone. Her counsel echoed what I would later hear from Pastor Rusty and the other brothers. Yet, just as I would disregard theirs, I disregarded hers as well. I had already convinced myself that I knew what was best. Looking back, I see that I did not merely fail to seek counsel. Even when wise counsel was freely given, I refused to receive it.

On July 4, 2025, while spending time with Pastor Rusty and several brothers from our church, the subject of work naturally came up in conversation. They asked how things were going at Floor Authority, and I shared some of the difficulties I had been experiencing. The long hours, the work that followed me home every evening, the disappointment of realizing that the position was nothing like what I had expected. At some point I mentioned that I was thinking about leaving.

Looking back now, that statement was not entirely honest. It was true that I had not yet resigned, but I was no longer merely thinking about it. My mind had already been made up. I presented the matter as though I were still seeking wisdom, when in reality I had already decided what I intended to do.

My pastor and brothers listened patiently. No one dismissed the difficulties I was describing. They understood that I was tired. They also recognized the strain the schedule had placed upon my family. They did not rebuke me for desiring to spend more time with my wife and children. Instead, they lovingly encouraged patience.

Pastor Rusty, along with the others, urged me not to quit without first giving proper notice. Looking back now, I see that though they didn’t voice it as such, they sought  to remind me that my testimony before my employer mattered. They tried to encourage me to think beyond the immediate relief I longed for and consider the people who would be affected by my decision. They exhorted me to leave honorably if I concluded that resigning truly was necessary. 

It was wise and biblical counsel. It was exactly what I needed to hear. But my heart had already chosen its course. One of the subtle dangers of pride is that it can disguise itself beneath the appearance of listening. A man may hear every word spoken to him while inwardly rejecting it all. He nods in agreement. He appears receptive. Yet in his heart he has already determined what he will do. That was me.

I left those conversations appearing to have received their counsel, while quietly intending to ignore it. The day after July 4th, I resigned from Floor Authority. I did not provide the notice I had been urged to give. At the time, I justified my decision by focusing almost entirely upon my family. I convinced myself that leaving immediately was the most loving thing I could do. I reasoned that every additional day spent there was another day taken away from Sabrina and the children.

There was some truth in those concerns. But there was also much that I failed to consider. I did not sufficiently consider the testimony I was leaving behind before my employer. I did not think about the commitments I had willingly made when I accepted the position. Nor did I consider the burden my departure would place upon the brother from our own church who had helped me obtain the job in the first place.

He remained there after I left. The work I abandoned did not simply disappear. Much of it had to be absorbed by those who stayed behind, including my brother in Christ. My decision increased his workload and, in turn, took additional time away from his own wife and family. That realization would grieve me deeply in the months that followed. At the time, however, my vision had become remarkably narrow. I could clearly see my own hardship. I failed to see how my choices would affect others.

Only later did I begin to understand that selfishness can wear very respectable clothing. It can even disguise itself as concern for one’s family while remaining blind to the responsibilities God has given toward everyone else. The Lord was not finished exposing my heart. The consequences of my decision came far more quickly than I expected.

When I walked away from Floor Authority, I believed another opportunity would present itself almost immediately. I had worked steadily for years, and jobs had never seemed particularly difficult to find. I assumed this season would be no different. I was wrong. Days turned into weeks. Weeks stretched beyond a month. For the first time in many years, I found myself without employment, watching the bills continue to arrive while no paycheck came with them.

It is remarkable how quickly confidence in tomorrow begins to fade when tomorrow no longer seems certain. Up until that point, Sabrina and I had lived much as many families do. We earned enough to meet our obligations from week to week, but there was no margin. One missed paycheck would have been enough to put us behind on many bills. More than a month without one quickly revealed how fragile and broken our financial situation truly was.

What I had long considered “getting by” was, in reality, a lack of faithful stewardship. The Lord was exposing something far deeper than unemployment. He was exposing years of living without wisdom. We found ourselves needing help. That was not an easy position for me to be in. Pride would much rather pretend everything is under control than admit genuine need. Yet the Lord has a way of humbling the proud.

My mother-in-law graciously loaned us money so we could continue meeting our obligations. I remain thankful for her kindness during that difficult season. Her generosity helped carry us through a time when I had placed our family in a position we should never have been in. We also reached out to our church. Even writing those words still humbles me.

The church had rejoiced with us through seasons of growth. They had prayed for us, encouraged us, welcomed us into their lives, and faithfully shepherded our family. Now they were caring for us in yet another way. It is one thing to read that the church is called to bear one another’s burdens. It is another thing entirely to become the one whose burden is being carried. The Lord used His people to remind me that we were not alone. Yet their help was never intended merely to relieve temporary financial pressure. There were deeper issues that needed to be addressed.

Not long afterward, Sabrina and I were asked to remain after one of our Wednesday evening Bible studies. Pastor Rusty and Pastor Chris wanted to meet with us privately. I remember walking into that meeting knowing it would not simply be a conversation about finding another job. The Lord had something much greater in mind. Looking back, I can say without hesitation that it became one of the kindest acts of pastoral care our family has ever received.

At the time, however, I did not yet realize how much of my thinking still needed to be corrected. I assumed the primary problem was that I had left one job before securing another. My pastors saw something much deeper. They saw a man who loved Christ, desired to lead his family faithfully, and genuinely wanted to obey the Lord, yet who still lacked biblical wisdom in the stewardship of what God had already entrusted to him.

That evening, they were not interested in condemning me. They loved me too much for that. They desired to shepherd me. And faithful shepherds are willing to wound when necessary, knowing that “faithful are the wounds of a friend.” I would soon experience just how loving such wounds can be.

I do not remember every word that was spoken that evening. Time has a way of softening the details while preserving the lessons the Lord intended to teach. What remains vivid in my mind is not the exact order of the conversation, but the spirit in which it took place. Neither Pastor Rusty nor Pastor Chris spoke to me as though I were an enemy. There was no anger, no humiliation, no sense that they were trying to win an argument or prove me wrong.

They spoke to me as shepherds caring for one of Christ’s sheep. That made all the difference. The conversation began with my decision to leave Floor Authority. They reminded me of the counsel they had given only days before. They had urged me not to leave without providing notice. They had encouraged patience and wisdom. They had exhorted me to think beyond my own frustrations and consider the testimony I would leave before my employer, my coworkers, and especially the brother from our church whose recommendation had helped me obtain the position. 

At one point during the conversation, the subject of Sabrina’s counsel came up. They reminded me that she had encouraged me to give notice as well. Then they gently exhorted me not to overlook the wisdom the Lord had placed so near to me. For many years I had thought of leadership as though it meant always having the answers. I imagined that because I was called to lead my home, I should seldom need correction from those within it.

The Scriptures paint a very different picture. A godly husband is indeed called to lead, but faithful leadership is never proud, stubborn, or unwilling to listen. God often grants wisdom through others, including a man’s own wife. Pastor Rusty and Pastor Chris encouraged me to listen when Sabrina offered biblical counsel. They were not suggesting that I surrender my responsibility as the head of our home. Rather, they were reminding me that humility is an indispensable part of faithful leadership.

The Lord had graciously given me a wife who loved me enough to speak truthfully, even when it was not what I wanted to hear. The tragedy was not that wisdom had been unavailable. The tragedy was that I had refused it. Only later did I come to appreciate how often the Lord protects us through the loving counsel of those He has placed around us. To ignore such counsel is not merely to reject people. It is often to resist one of the ordinary means by which God guides His children.

Then they gently pointed out what I had refused to see. By ignoring that counsel, I had not only affected myself. I had damaged my testimony before those I had worked beside. Men who knew I professed Christ had watched me leave in a way that did not adorn the gospel I claimed to believe. Even harder to hear was the reminder of how my decision had affected my brother in Christ. He had trusted me. He had spoken well of me. He had opened a door that likely would not have been opened otherwise.

When I walked away without notice, he was left carrying part of the burden I had abandoned. Extra responsibilities fell upon him. More hours were required of him. Time that should have belonged to his wife and children was instead spent compensating for choices I had made. I had been so consumed with my own circumstances that I had scarcely considered his. That realization pierced me. It is possible to love your own family while failing to love your neighbor. Scripture never permits one duty to cancel another. The command to care for my wife and children did not excuse me from acting honorably toward my employer or thoughtfully toward my brother. The Christian life is never lived in isolated responsibilities. Faithfulness in one area cannot justify unfaithfulness in another.

The conversation then moved beyond my resignation itself. Pastor Rusty and Pastor Chris began asking questions about our finances. Not questions meant to embarrass us. Questions meant to understand. How much debt did we have? What were our monthly obligations? How much money came in each month? Where was it going? Did we have savings? Did we have a budget?

One by one, we answered as honestly as we could. As the numbers accumulated, the reality became difficult to ignore. Between vehicle loans, credit cards, student loans, and other financial obligations, we were carrying nearly seventy thousand dollars of debt. Saying the number aloud was sobering.

For years I had thought about our finances almost entirely in terms of whether the next paycheck would cover the next round of bills. If it did, I considered us to be doing reasonably well. I rarely stopped to consider whether we were actually being faithful stewards of what the Lord had entrusted to us. That evening exposed the difference.

I had often thanked God for providing our income. I had been far less diligent in asking whether I was managing that provision wisely. As Pastor Chris walked through our financial situation with us, I began to realize that stewardship involved far more than simply avoiding unnecessary purchases. It was an expression of discipleship. Every dollar the Lord entrusted to us belonged to Him long before it ever reached our bank account. Our income was not ultimately ours to spend however we wished. It had been placed into our hands as a trust. I had understood, at least in theory, that everything belongs to God. What I had failed to understand was that stewardship is one of the ordinary ways our love for Christ is displayed. The Lord was not merely teaching me how to manage money. He was teaching me how to think differently altogether.

Financial counseling did not begin with spreadsheets. It began with Scripture. That alone surprised me. Part of me expected practical advice about reducing expenses, paying off debt, or finding better employment. Those things certainly came in time, but Pastor Chris understood that changing habits without addressing the heart would accomplish very little.

The problem was not merely that I lacked financial knowledge. The problem was that I had not yet learned to think biblically about stewardship. Again and again, he brought us back to the simple truth that everything belongs to the Lord. Not some things, but everything. The paycheck deposited into my account each week was not ultimately mine. The truck sitting in our driveway was not mine. The house we rented, the food on our table, the clothes in our closets, even the time and strength required to earn a living had all been entrusted to us by God. We were not owners, we were stewards.

That distinction changed far more than I realized at first. Owners ask, “What do I want to do with what is mine?” Stewards ask, “How would the Master have me manage what belongs to Him?” It is a simple difference in wording, yet it reaches into every corner of life.

As we began meeting together, Pastor Chris patiently helped us organize our finances. We listed every debt, every monthly payment, every recurring expense, every source of income. Nothing was hidden behind vague estimates or hopeful assumptions. Everything was brought into the light. The numbers were uncomfortable to look at. For years I had avoided examining them too closely because I feared what they would reveal. Ignorance had become a strange sort of comfort. As long as the bills were somehow being paid, I convinced myself there was little reason to look any deeper.

But ignoring reality never changes reality. It only delays dealing with it. Seeing everything written before us was sobering. Our debt had not appeared overnight. It had accumulated one decision at a time. Most of those decisions had not even seemed particularly significant when we made them. A purchase here, a payment there, a loan because we believed we could afford the monthly payment, a credit card used because we intended to pay it off later.

Each decision felt small. Together they had become a burden that weighed heavily upon our family. For the first time, I began to appreciate the wisdom found throughout the book of Proverbs concerning diligence, planning, contentment, and foresight. Those verses were no longer abstract principles. They spoke directly into the circumstances we were living.

The Lord also began exposing something else within my heart. I had often spoken about trusting God’s providence. Yet I had frequently neglected the ordinary means through which He provides. Scripture never pits God’s sovereignty against human responsibility. The same God who promises to provide for His children also commands diligence, wisdom, self-control, and faithful stewardship.

Too often I had wanted the comfort of His promises while neglecting the responsibilities He had given me. That realization reached beyond finances. I saw the same pattern in other areas of my life as well. How often had I prayed for growth while failing to seriously devote myself to the Word? How often had I desired stronger leadership in my home while failing to lead consistently? How often had I wanted peace while refusing the discipline that ordinarily cultivates it?

The Lord was teaching me that Christian maturity rarely comes through dramatic moments alone. More often it grows through thousands of ordinary acts of daily faithfulness. One decision, then another, and another. Looking back, I am thankful that Pastor Chris never treated our debt as though it defined us. He did not shame us. He did not speak as though financial struggle made us lesser Christians.

Rather, he lovingly helped us see that our financial condition simply revealed an area where we still needed to grow. There is a great difference between condemnation and conviction. Condemnation leaves a man believing there is no hope. Conviction points him to Christ and calls him forward in obedience. That is what faithful shepherding does.

Little by little, our thinking began to change. We learned to prepare before spending rather than reacting afterward. We learned that contentment is often more valuable than a higher income. We learned that generosity requires intentionality. We learned that planning is not opposed to trusting God’s providence but is one of the ordinary ways we exercise wisdom under His providential care. Most importantly, we learned that stewardship is not fundamentally about money. It is about faithfulness. Money simply happened to be one of the tools the Lord was using to expose my heart. In His kindness, He refused to leave me where I was.