The Night I Didn't Go Forward: Grace for Our Human Moments

I was eleven years old, sitting on a log at Royal Ambassador camp, and I desperately needed to use the bathroom.

Not in a "wait till the service is over" kind of way. In a "this is becoming a medical emergency" kind of way.

The camp food hadn't agreed with me. I'd spent most of the week dealing with gas and diarrhea, embarrassed and miserable. And now, on this final night, the big bonfire service where they'd carried out a massive wooden cross and the preacher was calling us to surrender our lives to missions, my body was staging a rebellion.

I couldn't focus on a single word he said.

My cousin sat next to me, maybe a year younger. The flames cast shadows on everyone's faces. We were singing "I Have Decided to Follow Jesus." The melody was beautiful. The moment was sacred. And all I could think was: I have to get out of here, or I'm going to humiliate myself in front of everyone.

I don't remember leaving. I just remember the relief.

When I got back to the bunk house, finally able to breathe again, my cousin looked up from his bed with this expression I'll never forget.

"I was shocked not to see you up front," he said. "I went forward because God's calling us to be missionaries. I thought for sure you'd be there."

My stomach dropped.

Not from the diarrhea this time. From guilt.

He'd gone forward. He'd made his stand. He'd responded to God's call while I was... well, you know.

I couldn't tell him the truth. What was I supposed to say? "Sorry, cousin, I had diarrhea so I missed my divine appointment"?” That's not how spiritual moments are supposed to work. You're supposed to be so moved by the Spirit that nothing else matters. You're supposed to be above physical limitations when God is speaking.

But I wasn't.

And for weeks afterward, all I could think was: You should have been there. Everyone else could handle it. Why couldn't you?

Over the following weeks, that moment haunted me. Not because I didn't love God. Not because I wasn't serious about serving Him. But because I felt like I'd failed the test. Like I'd proven, I wasn't spiritual enough for what God was asking.

Eventually, I did surrender to missions. I told my pastor. He was kind and loving, gave me information about missionary training programs, and helped me understand what it might mean to serve cross-culturally. He even got me materials about racial reconciliation and loving people across barriers, which made my parents furious, by the way. That's a story for another time.

But I carried something with me from that night at the bonfire.

A belief that if I'd been more spiritual, I could have pushed through. That real servants of God don't let their bodies get in the way of sacred moments. That being called by God means being above human limitations.

I was wrong.

Here's what I've learned in fifty-plus years of ministry:

God is not shocked by your humanity.

He made your body. He knows you get tired, hungry, sick, and distracted. He knows you have limitations. Physical ones. Emotional ones. Mental ones.

The Bible is full of people who had deeply human moments right in the middle of divine appointments. Moses had a speech impediment when God called him to speak. Elijah fell into depression after his greatest victory. Peter fell asleep in the Garden of Gethsemane when Jesus needed him most.

God knows your infirmities. Your weaknesses. Your limitations. And He helps you in them, not after you've overcome them.

That night at camp was one of my first encounters with performance-based spirituality.

The idea that you have to be spiritually perfect to be used by God. That if you have a human need at the wrong moment, you've disqualified yourself. That God's call comes only to people who can rise above their bodies and their circumstances and be purely spiritual beings.

It's a lie.

And it's a lie that keeps many good people from answering God's call.

I've mentored hundreds of ministry leaders over the decades. I've worked with people through Alignment Ministries, coached pastors and missionaries, and walked alongside people pursuing Christian leadership development. And you know what I've found?

The people who struggle most aren't the ones who don't love God enough. They're the ones who think they don't love Him perfectly enough.

They remember the time they fell asleep during prayer. The time they got angry when they should have been gracious. The time they had a very human need right when something spiritual was happening.

And they think: I'm not cut out for this.

Friend, you are not called to be superhuman. You are called to be faithful with your actual, limited, human self.

Let me tell you what I think actually happened that night.

I think God saw an eleven-year-old boy who was physically miserable and couldn't focus on anything except his need for a bathroom. And I think God had compassion on him.

I think God saw my cousin go forward and said, "Good. I'm glad he responded." And I think God saw me leave and said, "I'll get to him in a different way. In a few weeks. When he can actually hear Me."

I think God was far less concerned about the moment than I was. He was more interested in my heart than my attendance at an altar call.

God doesn't need you to perform perfectly to use you powerfully.

The calling came. Just not on my timeline. Not in the "ideal" spiritual moment, I thought it should. It came in the weeks of wrestling that followed. In the conversations with my pastor. In the slow realization that God wasn't done with me just because I missed one bonfire service.

Looking back, I can see God's grace all over that moment. Not in making me more spiritual. Not in giving me supernatural power to ignore my body's needs. But in meeting me after. In the ordinary, embarrassing, very human aftermath.

Maybe you've had your own version of that night.

Maybe you fell asleep during a worship service when everyone else was weeping. Maybe you got distracted during a sermon. Maybe you had a migraine during a retreat. Maybe your kid had a meltdown right when you were supposed to be having a spiritual breakthrough.

And maybe you've been carrying guilt about it ever since.

Here's what I want you to hear:

God is not disappointed in you. He is not measuring your worth by your consistency.

Your calling doesn't depend on your ability to have perfect spiritual moments. It depends on God's faithfulness and His willingness to work with very imperfect people.

The apostle Paul said it like this in

God's strength is made perfect in weakness. Not after you overcome your weakness. In it.

That eleven-year-old boy with diarrhea went on to serve as a missionary in Peru for twenty years. He's mentored hundreds of leaders. He's survived Stage 4 cancer and COVID. He's seen God's faithfulness in ways he couldn't have imagined that night at the bonfire.

Not because he was spiritually superior. Because God is gracious.

If you've been holding back from something God's calling you to because you don't think you're spiritual enough, disciplined enough, focused enough, stop.

God's invitation doesn't require you to be superhuman. It requires you to be honest about your very human limitations and trust Him anyway.

Maybe you missed the "perfect moment." Maybe you were distracted when you were supposed to have a breakthrough. Maybe you've been beating yourself up for years about not measuring up spiritually.

Here's the truth: The invitation still stands.

God hasn't moved on. He hasn't found someone more qualified. He's still interested in using your ordinary, limited, beautifully human self for His purposes.

You don't have to wait until you're perfect. You don't have to prove you're spiritual enough. You just have to say yes.

Even if it's weeks after the bonfire. Even if everyone else already gone forward. Even if you feel like you missed your chance.

You didn't.

God's grace covers the gaps. His mercy follows you even when you're running to the bathroom instead of running to the altar.

And His call on your life is bigger than any single moment: even the ones you think you completely missed.

For more on walking in God's grace instead of performance, check out The Big Leap of Faith: Believing God Loves You Exactly As You Are.

What if I've ignored God's call for years because I didn't feel qualified?

It's never too late to respond. God's call doesn't have an expiration date. He's been patient with you all along, waiting for you to realize that qualification comes from Him, not from your own perfection. Start where you are today.

How do I know if I'm really called or just feeling guilty?

True calling persists over time and brings both conviction and peace. Guilt usually produces anxiety and shame without direction. If the desire to serve keeps returning even after you've confessed and released it to God, that's often a sign of genuine calling rather than false guilt.

Does God still use people who have physical or mental limitations?

Absolutely. In fact, Paul celebrated his "thorn in the flesh" because it kept him dependent on God's strength rather than his own. Your limitations don't disqualify you: they position you to experience God's power in ways self-sufficient people never will. He specializes in using weak vessels.

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