After the Leap: A Letter on Obedience

Photo by Gustavo Fring on Pexels

We often imagine obedience to God as one big, dramatic moment.

But what I’m learning is that the leap of faith comes down to the thousand small steps of obedience that follow.

A couple of weeks ago, I stepped into a new season that the Lord first spoke to me about two years earlier. 

Now I’m living the ordinary rhythms that follow that grand leap — and it’s here that the deeper work of obedience begins.

You see, I thought the leap would be the hard part.

And in many ways, it was.

But I’m beginning to see that the real obedience happens afterward.

This journey didn’t start with a dramatic prayer or a perfectly timed plan. It began in my car.

Life felt chaotic at the time. We had just moved, and one of my sons had suddenly stopped eating and needed occupational therapy to help him learn again. 

I was missing work for appointments and trying to keep up with the aftermath of the move.

I remember sitting in my car, running through everything in my mind, feeling completely overwhelmed.

Then a thought came into my mind.

Not audibly, but in the way the Lord has spoken to me before — a thought that felt foreign to my own.

Don’t worry. You aren’t going to be at your job anymore. You will get to fully focus on your kids.

It was the kind of thought that stops you in your tracks.

I immediately started crying.

Part of it was relief. Part of it was fear.

And part of it was the overwhelming realization that if this really was the Lord speaking, my life might be about to change in a way I had never planned.

I had been at my job for fourteen years, straight out of high school.

It was familiar. Safe. Predictable. It had become part of the rhythm of my life.

And if I’m honest, becoming a stay-at-home mom had never been my dream.

I love my children deeply, but I had always assumed that role wasn’t one I was particularly wired for full-time. 

I’ve always believed it’s incredibly hard work, and the thought of losing my routine, becoming isolated, or somehow losing parts of myself felt intimidating.

My mornings were golden. I would wake up early to work out and read my Bible while the kids were at their grandparents'. 

My drive to work became a sacred space filled with worship music and quiet conversations with God.

I loved that routine. It felt like a safe little rhythm God and I had built together.

And part of my fear was the thought of that routine bubble bursting.

Financially, it didn’t make sense.

Practically, it didn’t make sense.

But something in my heart told me God might be inviting me to trust Him.

Still, I needed confirmation.

So I told the Lord something very specific.

“If this is really You, You’re going to have to bring this up to my husband.”

Part of me said it jokingly. But I was also completely serious.

My husband is a numbers guy. The math matters to him, and I couldn’t imagine him suggesting something like this unless God was truly working in his heart.

Months later, while we were on a date away from the kids, he casually asked a question.

“Would you ever consider staying home with the kids?”

I knew immediately.

It was God.

I told him everything — the moment in the car, the conversation I had with the Lord, all of it.

He was surprised.

I think he had begun opening his heart to the idea, but he hadn’t realized God had already been stirring something in mine.

Even with that confirmation, though, obedience didn’t happen overnight.

In fact, it took over a year and a half before I finally stepped away from my job.

Not because I didn’t believe God had spoken.

But because I was afraid.

My husband had fears, too. Financial concerns. Questions about whether we could truly make it work in a world that often feels built around two incomes. 

He worried about isolation and whether this transition would be difficult for me.

I had my own fears of failing.

What if I hated this new life?

What if I regretted the decision?

What if I stepped out in faith and everything fell apart?

Looking back, I can see that God showed me grace in my frozen fear — not by rushing me forward, but by slowly thawing my heart.

Instead of pushing me forward before I was ready, He gently led me toward a peace that surpasses understanding.

Over time, my heart began to change. The tension between work and home life became clearer.

What once felt impossible slowly began to feel like obedience waiting to happen.

And almost a month ago, I finally took that leap.

What I’m discovering now is something I didn’t fully understand before.

The big step of obedience is rarely the hardest part.

The harder part is living it out.

The ordinary days.

The unseen moments.

The quiet faithfulness that follows the decision.

In my small sample size of a month, I can already see how this season will stretch me — not in dramatic ways, but in the quiet adjustments of everyday life.

Some of the expectations I carried into this season will need to loosen. The routines I once held so tightly — Bible time, workouts, the structure of my mornings — now have to find new places in the day.

Life at home moves differently.

Time feels different.

There is a rhythm to it that I’m still learning.

And while I’ve only just begun, I can already see how this season will hold its share of tension.

But then some moments feel like gentle reminders from God.

Like when my daughter Mili falls asleep in my arms while I watch an episode of Gilmore Girls on a quiet afternoon.

Or when my son Jordan plays peacefully in the next room.

In those moments, something inside me recognizes the gift.

I’m reminded that this season is not something I created for myself — it’s something God made possible. 

He has graciously provided for our family through my husband so that I can be here, living out this obedience in ways that often feel small but deeply meaningful.

The other day, I had a migraine while trying to prepare the house for my husband’s Bible study. 

The baby was fussy, the house felt overwhelming, and for a moment, I found myself questioning everything.

Why am I doing all of this?

Eventually, I turned on worship music and started cleaning.

And I prayed.

I asked God for forgiveness because I suddenly remembered something important.

I’m not doing this for anyone else.

I’m doing this for Him.

And He sees me.

What I’m learning is that obedience rarely feels grand once you’re living it.

The grand step was leaving my job.

But the real obedience is happening now — in the quiet, ordinary moments no one else sees.

And I think that’s true for many areas of life.

Sometimes we imagine that if we follow God, everything will feel clear and meaningful every day.

But often obedience looks like continuing to trust Him long after the big decision has passed.

If you feel like God might be leading you somewhere but fear is holding you back, I understand.

It would actually be strange if you weren’t afraid.

God rarely calls us into things we could easily do without Him.

The point isn’t that we move forward with perfect confidence.

The point is that we move forward with Him.

Right now, I’m still in the middle of this story.

Some days feel peaceful. Other days feel messy and uncertain.

Obedience looks ordinary most of the time — dishes, diapers, laundry, and learning a new rhythm.

But I believe God is doing something in this season that I will understand more clearly over time.

For now, my prayer is simple.

Just take the next small step.

And somehow, that makes even the smallest steps feel sacred.