What God Does Over Time

Most Center Stories are written in the third person, but this one is a little different. This is our story—mine and Ryan’s—told from my (Kate’s) perspective. Over the years, God has stretched and grown us in ways we never expected. I’m deeply grateful for where we are today, but it hasn’t always been this way.

An Invitation to Be Reshaped

In 2015, just 13 years into our marriage, with three young children, Ryan and I were living in Texas and part of a church where we were thriving—growing spiritually in a way that felt life-giving, with community that came easily.

Then Ryan was offered a job that would move us to Ohio. At the time, he was at the bottom of the ladder in his career, with a deep desire to grow and step into something more. At first, it looked like a career move—and it was. But it was also something more—an invitation from God to grow in faith.

And we said yes…without realizing that we were stepping into what would become a journey of being stretched, refined, and tested in ways we never could have anticipated.

When God Asks You to Let Go

During that time, I remember feeling like God was gently—but firmly—prying open my hands, asking me to trust Him—to let go. And if I’m honest, there was a part of me that didn’t want to. I had this quiet fear: Are there even other Christians like this anywhere else? At the time, I genuinely wondered.

Looking back, I can see how small my view of God was. I had unknowingly put Him in a box— believing that what He was doing in one place was the extent of what He could do anywhere. But in His kindness, He was about to expand that vision.

What I didn’t know then was that this wouldn’t just be a lesson in letting go of a place—it would become an 11-year journey and a lifelong lesson in surrendering control.

Kate’s Challenges & Growth

There were seasons when I felt alone—when community didn’t come easily and friendships weren’t what I had hoped for. In those moments, I had to confront my expectations and begin letting go of what I thought relationships should look like.

But God wasn’t asking me to try harder. He was inviting me to surrender—to stop managing everything around me and pay attention to what was happening inside of me. To sit with Him in my discomfort instead of trying to fix it in my own strength.

Part of that growth also meant recognizing how often I expected Ryan to be more like me—to respond the way I would or meet needs the way I thought he should. Over time, God began to shift my perspective. Instead of trying to change him, I started learning how to receive him as he is.

Our marriage hasn’t been formed by sameness, but by learning to love each other well in our differences. And that kind of love doesn’t come naturally—it’s built over time through patience, humility, and a shared dependence on God.

Ryan’s Perspective

I’ve always been more introverted, drawn to a slower pace and the steadiness of routine. So when the opportunity came to move to Ohio, I saw it as a chance to grow—but I also knew it would stretch me in ways I couldn’t fully anticipate.

Stepping into something new, especially at that stage in my career, came with pressure. I wanted to provide well for our family and feel confident in the direction we were heading. But beneath that, there was uncertainty—questions I didn’t always have answers to and moments where I wondered if we had made the right decision.

In those early years, I was learning what it looked like to move forward without having everything figured out—to take the next step even when I couldn’t see very far ahead. God was slowly teaching me that clarity isn’t always the goal—trust is.

At the same time, I was learning how to love my family well during a time that felt unfamiliar for all of us. Watching my wife navigate her own challenges—and seeing her continue to lean into God—quietly strengthened my faith in ways I didn’t always have words for.

I still like to have a plan. I still want things to make sense. But that time began to teach me that following God isn’t about having control—it’s about being willing to trust Him with what’s right in front of you.

And that’s what it’s looked like for us—two very different people, both learning, in our own ways, to surrender control and trust the same faithful God.

Prone to Wander

There’s a line in the hymn Come Thou Fount that gets me every time: “Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it. Prone to leave the God I love.” I can barely sing it without tearing up, because it names something in me that I wish weren’t true—but is. I don’t want to wander… but sometimes I do.

In earlier years, my wandering showed up in bigger, more obvious ways, but as I entered midlife, it became quieter and more frustrating. It shows up in my independence—believing I know best and can do things on my own, holding tightly to control. It shows up in my marriage, when I keep score with Ryan, letting frustration take root instead of extending grace, allowing small things to become bigger things and create division. And it shows up in my emotions. When I’m tired or hurting, I can choose despair—sitting in it, letting it shape how I see everything, slipping into a heaviness that lingers.

Ryan and I have four daughters, each wired differently. As they’ve grown, we’ve seen in them some of our own struggles—the same bent toward control, the same emotional patterns, the same drift. That realization has been sobering—not shame-filled, but clarifying. It’s felt like a call to action, not just for our own hearts, but for how we lead and model what it looks like to walk with God.

And yet God doesn’t let us wander without purpose. In His sovereignty, He uses it to reveal what is really in our hearts and to reorient us back to Him.

The Courage to Tell the Truth and Surrender

And if wandering is the problem, then confession is the way back. It begins with humility—telling the truth and bringing it before God and others, even when it feels uncomfortable.

Because vulnerability always carries risk. But this kind of honesty is where healing begins. It’s the kind of honesty that strips away the façade, invites others in, and gently leads me back to surrender. That’s where freedom starts.

James 5:16 reminds us: “Therefore confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working.” During this 11-year journey, God has worked on me in ways I never could have imagined. And as I look back, I can see that each chapter—no matter how different—has required the same thing from me: humility, honesty, and surrender.

Coming Full Circle

This summer, we’re returning to Dallas. In many ways, we’re going back to what feels familiar—the same neighborhoods, the same rhythms, the same people we once knew. But by the grace and power of Jesus Christ, we are not the same people. And I am so grateful.

Because somewhere along the way—through deep friendships, through hard seasons, through choosing daily faithfulness when it didn’t feel easy—God has changed us. Not because we set out to become different people. But because we surrendered. We stopped trying to fix ourselves and instead allowed God to do what only He can do. Little by little, He has been transforming us. We still have so far to go, but we’ve come a long way.

Always Being Drawn Home

We are still learning, still surrendering—still coming back again and again. Because even though we are prone to wander, God, in His kindness, is always drawing us home—and teaching us to trust Him more with our whole hearts.