Grace in the Hardest Calling
There are moments in ministry I feel equipped for. Teaching kids about Jesus? I could do that all day. Leading or organizing a camp? Sign me up. But a few weeks ago, God asked me to step into something completely outside my comfort zone: officiating a funeral.
I knew the family, but I had never met their sweet son. And suddenly, I was being asked to hold one of their most vulnerable, heartbreaking, and unexpected moments in my hands. To stand in front of grieving parents and friends and try to find words that would both honor his life and offer hope in the middle of a storm.
If I’m honest, it was terrifying.
I’m an intensely emotional person. I feel things big, and it’s hard for me not to wear those emotions on my sleeve. My greatest fear was that I would completely break down in sobs and not be able to do what the family needed me to do. God made me tenderhearted, but that tenderness felt like a weakness in this moment. I had to sit with Pastor David ahead of time for guidance, and because he knows me so well, he didn’t sugarcoat it. He said, “Christine, the biggest thing you need to do is trust that God will get you through it and hold it together.” He’s seen me cry many times- but also knew God’s strength would be enough for me.
This wasn’t a church family. Their experience with God was minimal to none, and they made it clear they didn’t want a “religious” funeral. No heavyhanded sermon, no churchy clichés. They wanted to honor their son in a way that felt true to him while still leaving room for prayer and some measure of hope.
I knew it would be a tightrope walk. One that required me to listen carefully, hold back my own impulses, and lean fully on the Spirit. How do you honor a family’s wishes while still letting God use you as a conduit of His grace? I didn’t know if I could do it.
But here’s the thing about God: He never calls us into the deep end without showing up there with us.
Paul reminds us in 2 Corinthians 12:9 that God’s grace is made perfect in weakness. That verse became more than ink on a page for me; it became breath in my lungs. Because in that moment, I had nothing to offer on my own. My words weren’t eloquent. My heart was heavy. My hands were trembling. But His grace carried me through.
And that’s what I want to remind you today: God calls each of us into places that stretch, scare, and grow us. Sometimes it’s public, like standing in front of a grieving family. Other times it’s private, like having a hard conversation with someone you love, forgiving when it feels impossible, or showing up to encourage someone in the trenches of their pain.
Growth is rarely comfortable. But comfort was never the goal- faithfulness is. That day, I got to witness something holy. God took my shaky voice and used it to bring a sliver of light into a very dark room. He allowed prayer to settle over a family who didn’t even know they needed it. He gave me words that weren’t mine, but His. And somehow, in the middle of heartbreak, there was hope.
The writer of Hebrews says, “Now may the God of peace… equip you with everything good for doing his will, and may he work in us what is pleasing to him, through Jesus Christ” (Hebrews 13:20-21). That’s exactly what He did for me. He equipped me for what I thought I could never do, and He worked through me in a way that was beyond myself.
Friend, I don’t know what impossible thing God may be asking you to step into right now. But I do know this: if He’s calling you to it, His grace will meet you there. You don’t have to have the perfect words. You don’t have to feel strong. You just have to be willing to show up and let Him work through you.
Because when we are weak, He is strong. And sometimes the most powerful testimony we can give is not of our own ability, but of His grace carrying usthrough what we could never do alone.