I had read The Soul of the Apostolate and understood that fruitful ministry only comes from abiding in the Lord. (After all, the soul that He is most concerned about saving is always your own). And I knew I needed others to pray for me, too. When people were praying, I sure felt it every time.

But I also knew that prayer was often the first thing to get pushed aside. In between planning programs, making copies, recruiting volunteers, ordering food, adjusting budgets, answering e-mails, and doing all of the things that come with being continually underresourced and spread too thin, my best intentions became my last resort. I found myself texting a quick prayer request just before a program launch or an important meeting. Quite frankly sometimes I forgot to pray or ask for prayer altogether.

Combine the daily grind with the very real spiritual resistance of ministry and it wasn't long before laboring in the Vineyard started to feel blazing hot. I longed for shade from the sun.

Then five years later, I came home. I was a mom to two small children and didn't want to neglect my primary vocation for the sake of my secondary one. Stepping away from full-time ministry to give my family my focused time was a true gift, but suddenly I faced new challenges. The work itself wasn't objectively hard (changing diapers, making meals, and doing laundry is pretty mindless stuff), but it was nonstop and often lonely, even with plenty of playdates. My contribution felt invisible. I longed for meaning in the mundane.