The room was filled with doctors, pharmacists, magazine editors, teachers, engineers, church administrators… men with impressive résumés and deep faith.
My background was manufacturing plants, farms, and construction sites.
Good, honest work—but I wondered if it measured up.
I wondered if I measured up.
Then I noticed one other man who looked just as unsure.
We connected quickly.
And at the end of that first year, when everyone else spent an hour in their discernment interviews, he and I were each in and out in five minutes.
Had we not said enough? Were our answers too simple?
The next year they interviewed our wives.
Same thing—five minutes.
Other wives stayed for hours.
Every year we braced ourselves, waiting for the moment they would say,
“You are not worthy. You are not called.”
And every year, fewer men remained.
By the end, only half of the original group was still there.
But somehow, my friend and I kept getting waved through.
Quick interviews.
Simple conversations.
No drama.
Just a quiet, steady yes.
And maybe that’s the lesson.
God doesn’t always choose the impressive.
Sometimes He chooses the ordinary.
Sometimes He gives a “wise and understanding heart” not because we earned it, but because He delights in giving gifts.
And then Jesus says to the apostles,
“Come away and rest a while.”
Yet when He sees the crowd, His heart moves with pity,
and He teaches them anyway.
That’s the call.
Not to be the smartest in the room.
Not to be the most polished or accomplished.
But to let our hearts be moved.
To show up.
To serve.
To trust that if He keeps calling,
then by grace—quietly, steadily—we belong.
Prayer
Lord, You call the small and the unsure.
Make my heart steady in Your grace.
Teach me to listen,
to follow,
to serve with quiet courage.
Move me with Your mercy,
and let my life whisper back,
“I am Yours.”
Amen
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