Worship has started. The drums set the rhythm, the guitar and piano begin to build, voices blending in the room. I’m leading worship, but I’m doing far more than singing.
I’m listening to the prayers being whispered around the room.
I’m watching the people—discerning whether they’re leaning in or feeling distant.
I’m asking God what’s next: Should we move into the bridge? Stay here and wait? Shift to another song altogether?
I’m giving quiet cues to the team, signaling where we’re going—verse, chorus, bridge, tag.
I’m trying to keep my own heart soft and aware of His presence without losing focus or forgetting what comes next.
There’s a lot swirling.
And most of the time, I can hold it. I can hear the rhythm, catch the transitions, feel the Spirit’s leading.
But every now and then, I don’t.
Not often—but occasionally, in the middle of that swirl, I miss the cue. A musical moment slips past me. I’m not sure when to come in.
And that’s when it happens.
She turns slightly—my teammate, guitar in hand, steady and present. And then it comes: the quietest of prompts.
A subtle dip of her shoulder.
It’s not dramatic. Not obvious to anyone else. But it’s just enough.
Because I know her heart, I see it.
Because we’ve done this together before, I trust the cue.
And I begin to sing.
That moment—so small and easy to miss—has been sitting in my spirit lately.
Because it reminds me of how God often leads us, especially in seasons when life feels full of swirl and noise.
In the last few months, my life has felt a lot like that worship set. Full of movement and full of meaning. But also…full of pressure.
Work has been demanding—traveling from Canada to Denver, with more trips ahead. Big projects, full days, little margin. I’ve been tired in all the ways—physically, mentally, spiritually.
And beneath all of that, a question has been quietly rising:
Is it time to step away from this role? Is this the end of this assignment?
For some time, I’ve sensed that my season as Director of Tourism was drawing to a close. The work has been good, but I’ve known something was shifting. That God was preparing me to step more fully into writing, teaching, and mentoring others in their devotional lives—and to be more present with my husband.
But clarity didn’t come in a flash. It came gently, tucked between two chaotic work trips, during a short retreat in the Colorado mountains.
And there, in the stillness of the red rocks surrounding Glen Eyrie Castle, in the sacred quiet, I saw it.
A shoulder dip.
Not literal, but unmistakable.
A holy prompt.
A quiet cue from the heart of God.
“Now.”
And I knew.
If I hadn’t been watching, I might’ve missed it.
If I didn’t know His heart, I might’ve dismissed it.
But I heard Him clearly.
And recently, I took the next step. I submitted my resignation, effective this Summer.
It’s a big shift. A sacred transition. And I’m stepping into it the same way I step into a new verse in a song—watching, listening, trusting.
Cultivations
FOR THE HEART
Where in your life are you feeling the swirl—of responsibilities, roles, or rhythms—that’s making it hard to notice God’s gentle guidance? Have you paused lately to ask if there’s a cue He’s been trying to show you?
FOR THE SPIRIT
Lord, in the middle of all that’s swirling, quiet my soul. Tune my heart to recognize the subtle ways You lead me. Teach me to trust Your cues—even when they come in a whisper, even when they don’t look like I expected. Help me know Your heart so well that I never miss the moment when You say, “Now.” Amen.
FOR THE JOURNEY
Today, take 5–10 minutes of uninterrupted stillness.
Step away from the swirl. Sit with God. Ask Him, “Is there something You’re prompting me to notice?”
Then… just watch. Just listen. He may not shout. But He will speak.
