Twenty Years of Learning to Be Still

Hey Friend! Do you remember the last blog — you know the one about the beginning of Backroads & Breakthroughs? Well, this is the sequel. 

What happened at my desk that day was the most profound encounter of my life. But looking back, I can see now that God had been teaching me the same lesson for twenty years in different ways: 

Pull over and let Me be God.

I remember the day because I marked it in my Bible, right next to the verse that would become my “scripture of the call.” I don’t remember what the weather was like or what row I was sitting in, but I do remember the verse and how it hit my spirit with a beautiful “aahhhh.” It was that sound of exhaling mixed with the feeling that all is well with your soul. 

September 27, 2005:

 I was sitting in church listening to a Pastor preach about Habakkuk 2:1-3: 

"I will stand at my watch and station myself on the ramparts; I will look to see what he will say to me." 

And in that moment, I knew—deep in my bones knew—that God was calling me to be a writer and teacher. Not just to speak words, but to station myself, watch, and write what He would say.

That was the beginning. The original call to stillness, though I didn’t fully understand it yet.

As I mentioned in the last blog, for years after that, I lived by Matthew 6:33—seek first the kingdom of God. I was teaching, serving, doing all the “right things.” I was working on a Bible study for new believers called Foundations 101 (which would later become “Cornerstone: Building a Kingdom Faith”). I was seeking the kingdom with everything I had.

But honestly? I was exhausted. I was striving, performing, trying to figure it all out. I didn’t know yet that seeking isn’t the same as being still.

Then September 2021 came, and my entire body hurt, and my world broke. My son passed away, and everything stopped.

The world kept moving, but I couldn’t. And in that forced stillness, in that desperate desk moment, God gave me something I didn’t expect: words.

I wrote “Strands of Hope: A 45-Day Devotional” in the months following Wade’s death—45 days of processing grief, of documenting how God was holding me when I couldn’t keep myself, and of discovering that He meets us in the broken places we try so hard to hide.

In March 2019: [A little backstory here]

A close friend and Pastor asked me, “What would you teach about faith?” I was struggling to put into words everything God had been teaching me. And the answer came out before I even thought about it:

“The journey is beautiful.”

That’s when Journey Journals were born—not as a product, but as a practice. A way to document the backroads moments, the pullover encounters, the mile markers where God shows up in the mess. 

Because the journey itself IS beautiful, not despite the hard parts, but because of how Jesus meets us there.

I started practicing Psalm 46:10 daily: “Be still and know that I am God.” 

Just like before. Not seek frantically. Not strive harder. Not perform better. Just… be still.

And in that stillness, I realized what God had been teaching me since that Habakkuk moment in 2005: 

I have to lean in and listen before I write. I have to get still myself before I can share what others need to hear.

As I look back and gather my thoughts about the lessons of learning to be still, I realize that from day one, He has been showing me the same truth in different terms. 

In the beginning, He took time to show me that I would need to position myself and watch for what He would say. This is the framework of Habakkuk 2:1-3. 

Then, year after year, He continues to show me how to follow Matthew 6:33 as I seek His Kingdom and all that He would ask of me. 

He had already made the way for this beautiful thing when He quietly whispered, “The journey is beautiful,” into my spirit and showed me a passion for journaling and for creating a “soft place for words to land.” 

Then there was the huge pivot moment of the desk and how the brokenness I felt was gathered up in one sentence: “I know, My Son died too!”

And here we are today… learning to be still and know that He is God (Psalm 46:10)

It has taken me two decades to get to this place, but I am here. I am grasping that seeking isn’t the same as being still. I have learned that doing all the “right things” isn’t the same as encountering Jesus. I have found that the journey really is beautiful, but there has to be a choice to take the backroad and slow down. Even in the hard parts where He meets us and we finally stop moving… the journey is beautiful. 

And now every Habakkuk moment, exhausted season of striving, and every journal page has given me direction in this journey. They have brought us together to travel this beautiful journey and encounter the One who brings hope and peace in the messy chaos. 

Backroads & Breakthroughs doesn’t exist because of me or what I have learned in all of those encounters. It is here because I have been traveling this road for twenty years. I learned through hard moments that the fast lane is not where we find the pathway to breakthroughs. 

The moment we choose to pull over and be still… Jesus is right there. Waiting. 

Journey Journals are the soft place that allows prayers and pain to be expressed. They hold pages that will cradle the messy, broken, beautiful, redeemed journey—documenting the journey matters. Every mile you travel counts. That is how we encounter Jesus in the stillness. 

This small space of the world is a place for those who are overwhelmed and searching for a quiet space to encounter the hope of Jesus. It is here for you to join in the journey with others who are looking for the same thing. 

backroads reflection

Grab your journal and spend a few minutes with these questions:

  • Do you feel like God is showing you something and you are unsure how to unpack it so that it makes sense?
  • What does it look like for you to choose the backroad?
  • Do you have words that need a soft place to land as you travel this journey?

Want to journey together? Join our Backroads & Breakthroughs community on Substack, where we’re learning to pull over, get still, and encounter Jesus in the everyday overwhelm.

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