When Your Heart Says Yes: Finding Courage to Join and Serve

 We've all been there—standing at the threshold of something new, whether it's a church ministry, a community organization, or a volunteer group. Your heart whispers yes, but fear shouts louder.

The Fear Is Real

Everyone gets scared when joining a club or organization. Everyone. Some of us are naive—everything is shiny and new, and we don't know what we're walking into. Others carry the weight of past experiences, dreading what might come based on what we've already survived.

And then there are the stories. Oh, the stories we hear. The rumors that circulate. The gossip spreads like wildfire. The hurtful things people do to each other, even in spaces meant for good. These aren't just cautionary tales—they're often real experiences that leave real wounds.

It would be so much easier to stay home, to keep to ourselves, to protect our peace by avoiding the mess altogether.

But You Keep At It

Yet here's the beautiful, stubborn truth: you keep at it anyway.

Not because you're fearless. Not because you have all the answers. Not because you're guaranteed a smooth journey free from disappointment or hurt.

You keep at it because your heart is set on something more profound:

• To serve when it would be easier to be served
• To help, you could just as easily look away
• To do what others don't or can't do because someone needs to step up
• To see people in different lights—to look past their rough edges, their mistakes, their reputation, and see their humanity.

Trust Me, People Are Messy and Complicated

Let me be honest with you: every encounter will make you question whether you should have joined that group or shouldn't have said yes in the first place.

You might tell yourself many times, "Why did I say yes? Why am I doing all of this?" It's not a once-in-a-while thought—it can become a daily conversation with yourself.

People's attacks. People's hurtful words. Hidden agendas lurking beneath polite smiles. All of it makes it incredibly challenging for you to move forward and do what you were sent to do.

Here's the kicker: no one wants to make the difficult decisions or the hard calls. But everyone—and I mean everyone—has an opinion. Everyone has ideas. Everyone has complaints. The room is full of voices pointing out what's wrong, what should be different, what somebody should do.

But rarely do people have solutions. Even more rarely do they step up to the plate themselves.

It's easier to criticize from the sidelines than to stand in the arena. It's safer to point out problems than to roll up your sleeves and work through them. And when you're the one who said yes, who stepped into leadership or service, you become the target for all that frustration, all those opinions, all those complaints from people who won't do the work themselves.

Is it easy to become cynical? Absolutely. To become heartless? To turn into a whiner or complainer yourself? Yes. When you're surrounded by the mess, when you're absorbing everyone's negativity, when you're the one making the hard calls that nobody thanks you for—it's incredibly easy to let bitterness take root. To start seeing people as problems instead of people. To protect yourself, shut down your heart.

But even with all that reality, even knowing how tempting it is to give in to cynicism, we must choose differently.

We have to choose differently—not because we're better than anyone else, but because we know what happens when everyone gives in to the darkness. Someone has to be the light. Someone has to break the cycle. And if God called you to this place, then that someone is you.

When God Is Your Motor and Anchor

This is where everything changes. When God is both your motor and your anchor, you operate from a different place entirely.

God as your motor means you're propelled by something greater than your own ambition or need for recognition. Your service isn't about you—it's about obedience, love, and reflecting the One who served first. On the days when you have nothing left to give, when your own strength has run dry, He keeps you moving forward, not through guilt or obligation, but through love.

God as your anchor means when the storms come (and they will come), you're held steady. When people disappoint you, when the gossip reaches your ears, when the attacks feel personal and the words cut deep, when you lie awake at night wondering if it's all worth it—your anchor holds. You're rooted in something that can't be shaken by human fickleness.

This doesn't mean the hurt doesn't hurt. It doesn't mean you won't cry, won't feel discouraged, or sometimes sit in your car before going in and ask God, "Are you sure about this?"

It means you're never doing it alone. And that makes all the difference.

The Choice to Stay

Staying isn't passive. It's not just showing up out of obligation or stubbornness. It's an active choice to:

• Love when it's hard
• Extend grace when you'd rather withdraw
• Believe in the mission even when the people falter
• See redemption where others see only failure

Yes, you'll encounter the bad experiences. The rumors might even be about you someday. People can be hurtful, even in churches and charitable organizations—maybe especially there, where expectations are high and everyone is imperfect.

And here's the truth: some days you won't feel strong enough. Some days you'll want to walk away. That's not weakness—that's being human. You're allowed to feel tired. You're allowed to grieve when people let you down or when the weight feels too heavy.

But you also get to be the person who breaks that cycle. You get to be the one who chooses differently. Who loves loudly. Who sees clearly. Who serves faithfully—not perfectly, but faithfully.

And on the days when you can't see why you're there, when the hurt outweighs the hope, remember: God sees. He considers every quiet moment of service that no one acknowledges. Every time you bite your tongue instead of lashing back. Every prayer you whisper for the person who hurt you. Every decision you make in the dark that no one will ever know about.

None of it is wasted.

Your Presence Matters

Someone needs your gift. Someone needs to be seen through your eyes—eyes that look with compassion rather than judgment. Someone needs to experience the kind of love that doesn't quit when things get messy.

That someone might be the person everyone else has written off. Or the person who's afraid to join, just like you once were. Or even the person causing the problems, who desperately needs to be loved back to wholeness.

There will be beautiful moments too. Moments when you see a breakthrough. When someone's life changes. When the thing you've been praying for finally happens. When a person you invested in comes back to thank you years later. When you realize that all the hard calls you made, all the sleepless nights, all the times you chose love over bitterness—it mattered.

Those moments don't erase the hard ones, but they remind you why you said yes in the first place.

So yes, walk in with your eyes open. Be wise, set boundaries, protect your peace. Let yourself feel the hard things without letting them make you hard. Lean on God when you can't stand on your own. And know that it's okay to be tired—it doesn't mean you're doing it wrong.

The world has enough people standing on the sidelines. It needs more people who say yes when their heart is called to serve—even when they're scared, even when it's hard, even when the stories warn them away. Even when people are messy and complicated, you question everything.

Keep at it. Not because it's easy, but because you were called. Not because people deserve it, but because God's love works through you. Not because you have it all figured out, but because showing up is enough.

Your presence, your service, your willingness to see people differently—it all matters more than you know. And on the days when you forget, remember: God hasn't forgotten why He placed this calling on your heart.

You're exactly where you're supposed to be.