I Almost Gave It All Up for a Bowl of Stew

I feel like I’ve been tasked to write this. Not just because I want to, but because I have to.

When I look back on the past few years, it doesn’t feel like it flew by. People say time moves fast, but honestly, for me, growth has been slow and gritty. Not just year by year, but moment by moment. Minute by minute. Hard decision by hard decision. And yet, here I am. Still standing. Still called. Still chosen. Not the same woman I was three years ago—and I say that with a full heart of gratitude. Because I shouldn’t be who I am now. By all natural accounts, I should’ve self-sabotaged my way right out of the promise. But God.
This Month ( August) marked nine years of living on the East Coast. Nine years since I followed God’s leading away from everything familiar. Nine years of learning how to become rooted in places I didn’t plant myself. I went back and read some of the words I wrote during those early years. I let them sink in.

And I wept.

Because I remember how close I came to forfeiting it all. I almost sacrificed what was permanent on the altar of something temporary. I almost walked away from what was eternal because of what felt urgent. I almost chose to feed my pain instead of facing it. But the mercy of God intervened. He rescued me before I ruined myself. And He did it with the kind of fierce, holy love that doesn’t flatter you—it frees you. There was a point—I remember it clearly—where the Lord whispered to me: “Call it by name or it will rename you.” That moment changed everything. I had to call the pain out. I had to face the bitterness I was nursing, the fear I was hiding, the validation I was chasing. I had to acknowledge the part of me that was clinging to what was broken because it felt more familiar than healing. I had to admit I was betraying myself just to keep people who were never meant to stay. And that’s when Jesus called me closer. That’s when He untethered me from a version of myself I had grown comfortable with, but was slowly suffocating in. That’s when He reminded me that what He called me to be was not up for debate.

I think of Esau. Genesis 25. How he gave away his birthright—his inheritance, his identity, his legacy for a bowl of stew. Just to feel full for a moment. He gave up what would’ve lasted a lifetime for what barely lasted minutes. And if I’m honest, I almost did the same. There was a season where I was tired of waiting. Tired of pressing. Tired of being misunderstood. Tired of trusting God and not seeing what I hoped for unfold. And that’s exactly when the enemy offers you “stew,” a temporary fix dressed up in satisfaction. Something that promises relief but costs you everything. Something that smells good but can never sustain. I’m so thankful the Lord blocked me. I’m so thankful He didn’t give me what I thought I wanted. I’m so thankful He didn’t let me settle for survival. Because I would’ve sold off the very thing I was born for. I’ve grieved a lot these past few years. I’ve lost people I thought would always be there. I’ve wept over doors I once begged God to open—only to watch Him close them with compassion I couldn’t understand at the time. But looking back now, I see the rescue. I see the mercy. And I see the strength He gave me in the breaking. I may have lost some things. But I gained myself.
Not the “me” shaped by trauma, expectation, or people-pleasing. Not the version of me that constantly second-guessed the calling. Not the version that confused busyness with purpose.
I gained the woman God made. The one who trusts His timing. The one who’s not moved by applause or abandonment. The one who has scars and a mission—and knows they’re not in conflict. I’m still on course. The call hasn’t changed. The assignment hasn’t shifted. I didn’t miss it.
I’m more in alignment now than I’ve ever been. And here’s what I want to say to whoever’s reading this: Don’t trade your inheritance for a bowl of stew. Don’t give up what’s permanent because of what feels urgent. Don’t confuse hunger with identity. If you're in a hard place right now, I get it.
If you're grieving, tired, tempted to take the shortcut—you're not alone. But trust me when I say: There’s more at stake than you can see. Let God rescue you. Let Him snatch you out, even if it’s uncomfortable. Let Him strip away the version of you that was never built to carry your calling.
Let Him heal you not just for your sake, but for the sake of everyone your life is going to impact.
Because of the pain? It won’t last forever. But the purpose? That’s eternal. And if you’ve almost forfeited your future, you’re not too far gone. Jesus restores birthrights. Even when we’ve tried to give them away.