Under Construction
In March of 2023, I was invited to an interest night with fellow leaders at our church. The purpose was to explore launching a new ministry called Alpha. They explained that Alpha is an evangelistic ministry designed for non-believers or anyone curious about life from a Christian perspective.
I told my husband I was going purely out of curiosity. I had no intention of adding one more thing to my already maxed-out schedule.
And honestly? Everything about the ministry sounded great. I love people. I love being involved. But the reality was, my life was already overstuffed. The evening wrapped up with the leader saying, “This ministry is messy. Many people have church hurt, anger, or strong opinions about what we believe. We need to be prepared for the mess.”
And that sealed the deal for me. Nope. Hard pass. I don’t do messy. I’m Type-A through and through, a full-blown control freak. I smiled, wished them well, and happily checked Alpha off my to-do list for the week as I drove home, feeling relieved.
But the drive home was… different.
I take the same route to church several times a week, and that night just two hours prior was no exception. Except this time on the way home, I hit some seemingly random late-night construction. I rolled my eyes, bothered by the distraction, but then something stirred. The vibrant orange cones seemed to glow. The “Detour” sign felt unusually large, almost as if it was shouting at me.
“What is this about?” I asked. And then I felt it: the Holy Spirit nudging me. “Pay attention.”
So I did.
The detour took me past a mini-mart with a neon OPEN sign blinking so brightly I couldn’t look away. Open your heart, the Spirit whispered.
I literally laughed and said out loud, “There is no way You are talking to me through a construction zone and neon signs.” And then I added, “But even if You are, I can’t do Alpha. I’m too busy. And, I don’t do messy!”
A few minutes later, I passed another sign: CAUTION: LOOSE GRAVEL. I had to slow down again. And suddenly, it hit me—maybe it’s in the loose gravel, the uncertain, bumpy moments, that God does His best work. Maybe it’s where He smooths the rough patches. Where He makes margin I didn’t think existed.
As I pulled up to the final stop sign before home, I felt a gentle but firm conviction: “Stop. None of this is random. I'm talking to you. Will you listen?”
When I walked in, my husband, Sean, asked how it went.
“It was great,” I said. “I think it’s going to be an awesome opportunity for so many people.”
He asked, “Who’s leading it?”
“I am,” I replied. “I argued with God the whole way home, and He won.”
Fast forward to September 2025: I’m preparing to launch my 6th Alpha at Rise, my 3rd at My Father’s House, and gearing up to help launch Alpha Youth.
Here’s the thing: I am not capable of leading Alpha. I don’t have the skillset or the capacity, but I can’t even begin to explain the fruit that has come from prayerfully—and sometimes argumentatively—stepping out in obedience.
The joy I feel during each Alpha session is unmatched. I long for more nights like my construction zone drive. That moment still comes to mind often, reminding me how big our God is, and how He can use something as ordinary as roadwork and neon signs to do something extraordinary in us.
So, what’s your construction zone?
What is the Holy Spirit trying to tell you? Maybe He’s prompting a detour or a u-turn. Maybe He’s telling you to slow down. Or to finally take the exit you’ve been passing.
Whatever it is—pause and listen. Sometimes prayer is us talking to God, but what if He’s trying to talk to you? Open your eyes, open your heart, and don’t miss it.
_____________________________________
Want more information about Alpha? rise.cc/alpha