A Quiet Yes: Stepping Into Formation, Trusting God With the Foundations

 Yesterday, I enrolled and was accepted into King’s Bible School through Hope College.

Even writing that sentence feels weighty — not because of the institution itself, but because of what it represents in the long arc of my life. This was not a spontaneous decision. It was not a pivot made in reaction to success, visibility, or momentum. It was a response to something that has been quietly forming in me for many years.

This step feels less like moving forward and more like returning — returning to a question God first placed on my heart long before I had language for it, long before I had books, platforms, or any sense of public calling.

It feels like foundation work.

A Seed Planted Years Ago

In my mid-twenties, I had the privilege of going on missions to Papua New Guinea. At the time, I could not have articulated what that season would come to mean for the rest of my life. I didn’t return with a five-year plan, a ministry blueprint, or a clear sense of vocational direction. What I carried home instead was something far more enduring — a quiet but persistent stirring.

I saw faith lived out not as theory, but as survival.

Not as polished theology, but as daily dependence.

I watched people worship with very little in their hands and everything in their hearts. I saw Scripture trusted not because it was explained well, but because it was all there was. And somewhere in that environment — far from comfort, far from control — something in me began to wake up.

At the time, I didn’t know what to do with it. Life continued. Trauma continued. Healing unfolded in slow, uneven ways. Years passed. And yet that stirring never left. It simply waited.

The Long Road to Readiness

For much of my adult life, my formation did not happen in classrooms. It happened in hospital rooms. In recovery. In addiction and sobriety. In grief, rebuilding, and learning how to live again after near-death.

God did not rush me.

Instead, He worked patiently — often painfully — shaping character before calling, depth before direction, obedience before visibility. Looking back now, I can see how much mercy there was in that slowness. I was not ready earlier, even when I thought I was.

Formation takes time. And sometimes, it takes being dismantled first.

Over the years, as I wrote my memoir and began sharing my story, something shifted. The writing was never about platform — it was about obedience. But obedience has a way of opening doors we didn’t plan to walk through.

Recently, as my book has entered hospitals and sacred spaces, I’ve found myself standing at thresholds that require more than testimony. They require wisdom. Discernment. Grounding. They require roots.

And that is where this step into Bible school comes in.

Not a Pivot — a Deepening

Enrolling in King’s Bible School does not feel like a change in direction. It feels like a deepening of what God has already been doing.

I am not chasing ministry.

I am not attempting to manufacture calling.

I am responding to an invitation to be formed.

There is a difference.

I have learned the hard way that influence without formation is dangerous — both for the one carrying it and for those receiving it. If God is entrusting me with stories that enter hospital wards, with words that sit beside people in their most vulnerable moments, then I want to steward that responsibility well.

This season feels like God saying, “Let me build underneath what I’m doing through you.”

Excited — and Expectant

I am genuinely excited about this next chapter, but not in an anxious or striving way. It is a quiet excitement, rooted in trust. I am expectant not of outcomes, but of encounter.

Scripture speaks often about God doing “a new thing,” but what strikes me is how often that new thing begins with returning to first love, first obedience, first humility.

I don’t know exactly what this season of study will lead to — and I’m at peace with that. What I do know is that God has never wasted a season of preparation in my life, even when I couldn’t see the purpose at the time.

If anything, I have learned to trust the unseen work more than the visible fruit.

Foundation Building in Real Time

This decision comes at a time when many things appear to be accelerating outwardly — increased visibility, conversations, opportunities. And yet inwardly, this step feels like slowing down.

Digging deeper. Strengthening foundations. Letting God align my inner life with the external doors He’s opening.

I don’t want to rush past this moment. I want to honour it.

Bible school, for me, is not about acquiring information. It’s about formation of the heart. It’s about sitting under Scripture, allowing it to shape not just what I say, but who I am becoming.

Gratitude and Trust

As I reflect on this step, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude — for God’s patience, for the years of quiet preparation, for the ways He has gently guided without forcing.

I’m grateful that He plants seeds early and allows them to grow at the right time. I’m grateful that He doesn’t despise slow work. And I’m grateful that even now, He continues to build — layer by layer — something I could never construct on my own.

This season feels sacred. Not loud. Not flashy. Sacred in the way foundations are sacred — unseen, essential, and strong.

I step into this next chapter with open hands, trusting the One who began the work long before I understood it, and confident that He will be faithful to complete it.

Whatever comes next, I want it to be built on Him.