I was sitting in the back row at church, tissues shredded in my lap, doing everything I could to keep it together. You know that kind of cry that sneaks up on you? The one that tightens your throat and stings your eyes before you even know what’s happening? That was me. In a place that’s usually peaceful and grounding, I felt heavy, exposed, and honestly… tired.

The pastor had just read the verse—Isaiah 6:8. You’ve probably heard it before:

“Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, ‘Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?’ And I said, ‘Here am I. Send me!’”

It hit me like a wave. That kind of boldness? That kind of clarity? I wanted it so badly. I wanted to raise my hand, shout “yes,” and step confidently into whatever God had next. But if I’m honest… I didn’t feel like I could. Not that day. Not in the middle of my mess.

Because here’s what was running through my head:

How could God use me like this? I’m the pastor’s wife—I’m supposed to have it together. I’m supposed to be the one encouraging other people, not the one barely holding it together.

In that moment, I had a choice: I could fake it and pretend everything was fine, or I could be honest—with myself, with God, and with the people around me.

I chose honesty. And the tears came. Not the quiet ones you can wipe away quickly, but the big, snotty, can’t-catch-your-breath kind. And weirdly? It felt like freedom.

If you’ve ever felt like you needed to clean yourself up before God could use you, I just want to say this clearly:

God can’t bless who you pretend to be. But he can profoundly use your broken and honest heart.
He will bless the real you—the one who’s raw, messy, tired, unsure, and still willing to say “yes.”

We don’t have to show up perfect. We just have to show up real.

Isaiah didn’t say yes because he was polished or prepared. If you read just a few verses earlier, he actually says, “Woe is me… I am undone.” (Isaiah 6:5) That doesn’t sound like someone who’s got it all figured out. That sounds like someone who feels unworthy—and still chooses surrender.

And that’s the beautiful part. God meets us in the “undone.” He doesn’t need our filtered selves—He’s after our honest hearts.

That day in church, I realized something I want to remind you of too:

We preach the gospel best when we need it most.

We minister from the middle of our own need.

We are used most powerfully when we stop pretending we don’t have wounds.

Jesus didn’t shy away from pain. Isaiah even says He was “a man of sorrows, familiar with suffering.” (Isaiah 53:3) So why do we think we need to hide ours?

Friend, if you’re feeling disqualified today—like your weakness is too much, your doubts too loud, or your story too messy—I want to tell you that you’re exactly the kind of person God loves to use.

He’s not waiting on your perfection. He’s waiting on your honesty.

So if all you’ve got today is a deep breath and a whispered “yes,” that’s enough.

God will meet you in your weakness. He’ll walk with you in your pain. And He’ll use your honest “yes” in ways you can’t yet imagine.

Let’s be the women who stop pretending and start trusting. Who lead from our scars, not our highlight reels. Who believe that our bruises don’t disqualify us—they actually make room for grace to shine brighter.

You don’t have to be anyone else today. Just be you. The real you. The one God already knows and loves.

And if you need someone to remind you again tomorrow—I’m here. We’re in this together.