This Is Not the Life We Asked For, and That’s the Point
“We thought we were stepping into a river, but the river moved — and it took us with it.”Photo by Jon Flobrant on Unsplashhttps://medium.com/media/cb3664646f14a3b3822f7afa4a8b537f/href
In a 2020 episode of the GoodLion Podcast, my cohost Brian and I shared the vivid and somewhat comical tales of how our carefully crafted ministry dreams were, well… let’s just say… “lovingly hijacked” by God.
I thought I was moving to Ireland. Cue the romanticized visions of rolling green hills, Celtic revival, and a pub church in Galway.
Brian thought he was headed to Portland to help plant a church with one of our ministry heroes — cue the dreams of good coffee, rich theology, and a hip congregation full of people who read Bonhoeffer for fun.
But instead? God said, “LOL… how about Oklahoma and Temecula?”
It was a spiritual bait-and-switch that, in retrospect, was far more of a bait-and-bless.
And now, five years later, I find myself sitting here re-listening to that episode, feeling a strange mixture of emotions: humility, gratitude, wistfulness, and a holy ache.
God has not stopped teaching me the same lesson over and over again: He has the right to change the plan.
The Brutal Kindness of Detours
Since that episode, both Brian and I have taken more detours than a Waze app stuck in beta.
I became the content strategy director for a large network of churches — a job that gave me purpose, stability, and the sense that my gifts were being used on a larger scale. It was by far the most stressful and high stakes job I’ve ever had… but also one of the most rewarding spiritually to see the impact of the work!
Then after years of late nights, conferences, and big dreams… I got laid off due to budget cuts. In an instant, I was no longer relevant, and felt crushed.
Brian took on a role at Calvary Chapel Bible College, teaching and helping with admissions — an environment perfectly tailored to his pastoral and philosophical wiring. Then he got laid off too. Budget cuts again. Gone.
(If there’s a celestial HR department, we’d like to file a complaint.)
But let’s not pretend it’s all been disaster and derailment.
These last five years have been laced with grace. We’ve both had kids — real, actual tiny humans who now climb on our backs and call us “Dad.” Jack is my wild little wonder, and another baby girl is on the way. Brian also has two beautiful children now. And amidst all the job losses and zigzag paths, life has flourished.
Even ministry has been reborn in small and subversive ways.
Brian has found work as an associate pastor at a local Church in NJ, working with both youth and adults and building wonderful discipleship models.
I started the GoodLion School of Discipleship a little over two years ago out here in the midwest, and what began as a modest, twice-a-month gathering has become a slow-burning fire — a local group of young folk willing to give up 6 hours of their weekends each month to study the Way of Jesus.
I stop and think… a band of Gen Z college students gathering around Scripture, asking real questions, and slowly becoming more like Christ? That’s the good stuff. It’s not flashy. It’s not “strategic.” But it’s real. And it’s growing.
Heraclitus Was Right (But So Is Jesus)
“No man ever steps in the same river twice,” the great early philosopher Heraclitus said, “for it’s not the same river and he’s not the same man.”
That quote haunts me — in the best way. Because when I re-listen to that 2020 episode, I hear the voice of a guy who was hopeful, idealistic, and ready for adventure. And I still am, in many ways. But I’m not the same guy. I’ve been pruned. Replanted. Resurrected, in tiny ways. The river keeps flowing.
God keeps changing the plan — not because He’s cruel, but because He’s sovereign. Because He sees things I don’t. Because my “ideal” might actually be spiritual junk food, and He’s offering me a table instead.
If anything, the last five years have felt like a continual reminder that following Jesus isn’t about securing the plan… it’s about trusting the Planner.
Roast Us, Lord (But Gently)
If we were the protagonists of a Netflix docuseries, our titles would read something like:
• “Aaron Salvato: Thought He Was Going to Ireland, Ended Up in Tornado Alley.”
• “Brian Higgins: Planned to Be a Portland Pastor, Now Teaches Philosophy to Middle Schoolers in Jersey.”
We laugh. We wince. We learn.
There’s something oddly comforting in the absurdity of it all. God let us dream, then let us fall face-first into reality, then lifted us up again, handed us new dreams (the kind that fit better and itch less), and whispered, “This is what I meant.”
2024: The Year Everything Fell Apart (And Somehow, I Didn’t)
I need to be honest with you.
The last year…2024, was one of the hardest years of my life. Right at the start of the year, I lost my job. Not long after, my wife and I experienced a miscarriage. We lost our second child, Sparrow. That grief, as any parent who’s walked that road knows, doesn’t have neat edges. It leaks into everything — your sleep, your work, your prayers. I spent most days in the early weeks distracting myself with looking for work and sobbing in my little backyard workshop/studio.
And just when I thought things couldn’t get heavier, I went through a deep season of personal disappointment. I faced a massive unexpected letdown and hurt… the kind of letdown that doesn’t just sting, it disorients you and makes you question everything. It left me spiraling into depression, questioning so much — not just about ministry, but about myself.
But here’s what I can say now: God had been preparing me.
Everything He did in the earlier years here in Oklahoma — the rerouting, the replanting, the slowness, the obscure work — it was forming me. Building scaffolding in my soul for a storm I didn’t know was coming.
Through a lot of counseling with a wise Christian therapist, guidance from a spiritual director, and the patient love of my wife and a small band of trusted friends… through learning to sit in silence instead of scrambling to produce more content… through asking less “What should I make?” and more “What is God making of me?” — I grew.
Our local church where we are members came alongside us with encouragement and prayers. Other churches in the area reached out. Pastors told me how the School of Discipleship was impacting their young people. It was a quiet chorus of affirmation from unexpected places. A reminder that hidden faithfulness is still faithfulness. And that Jesus is not asleep in the storm — He’s just not panicking like I am.
And by some strange, beautiful grace, 2024 — this absolute gut punch of a year — became the year of the most spiritual growth I’ve ever experienced.
The Hope Hidden in the Chaos
So yeah, the plan changed. It keeps changing. The storms still come. And sometimes I still want to grab Jesus by the collar and yell, “Do You even care that we’re drowning?”
But I’m learning — slowly, stubbornly — that my job is not to panic in the waves. My job is to trust the One in the boat with me.
So if your life feels hijacked — maybe it is. Maybe God’s not destroying your plan. Maybe He’s saving you from it. Maybe what you lost wasn’t holy. Maybe what He’s building is better. You just don’t see it yet. But you will.
If you’re in a season like that — full of grief, confusion, detours, silence — I want you to know you’re not alone. I’ve been there. I am there.
But I’m seeing more clearly than ever that God’s faithfulness is not found in Him keeping our plans intact. It’s found in Him keeping us.
Even when the road bends. Even when the boat rocks. Even when the dream dies and something unexpected is born in its place.
And maybe that’s the real hope — not that things will finally go our way, but that every twist and turn will somehow still lead us His way.
And that, friends, is a plan worth following.
Five Years Later: The Power of God’s Unpredictable Plan was originally published in GoodLion Theology on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
