When Comfort Calls Louder Than Growth

There’s a moment in every journey of faith when God asks us to step away from what feels safe — not because He wants to take from us, but because He wants to grow something deeper within us. I’ve learned that growth rarely happens in the soft, familiar places of life. It happens when we’re stretched, uncomfortable, and utterly dependent on Him.

When we decided to move our five children ten hours away from everything they had ever known, it wasn’t easy. We were happy in New Jersey. We had community, stability, and friends who felt like family. For my kids, it was home — the kind of home that wraps you in familiarity and predictability. The thought of uprooting them from all of that comfort terrified me.

So many “what ifs” ran through my mind.
What if this ruins their lives?
What if they don’t make friends?
What if this one decision becomes the moment everything goes wrong?

You know — the kind of “defining moment” you later tell a counselor about when you’re twenty-eight, trying to trace back where things began to unravel. I wrestled with those thoughts daily. Because the truth is, when you make a big leap, both potential outcomes — failure and flourishing — sit side by side.

But deep down, I knew the Lord was leading us to South Carolina. I couldn’t see the full picture, but I felt His nudge. And I’ve come to believe that growth often begins where comfort ends. That new surroundings wake up parts of us that would have otherwise stayed dormant. And that when God calls you to something, it might include pain and loss, but it will also carry purpose.

Learning to Let Go

Those first few weeks after the move, I was a ball of anxiety — not for me, but for my kids. I carried their emotions like they were my own. If one of them looked sad, I felt it in my chest. If my daughter frowned, I instantly imagined the worst — that she was lonely, falling apart, or spiraling into sadness. I read into every small sign, grasping for reassurance.

But then something shifted. I decided to stop scanning for what was wrong and start looking for what was good.
Because what you look for, you will always find.

Watching My Daughter Choose Courage

My middle daughter had the hardest time with the move. She begged not to leave New Jersey. She loved her friends, her school, her routines. The thought of walking into a new classroom where she didn’t know a single soul felt unbearable. She even asked if she could be homeschooled.

I listened. I let her cry. I comforted her — but I didn’t pull her out of the discomfort. Instead, I reminded her that she could do hard things, that she wasn’t a victim of her circumstances, and that sometimes God asks us to grow in ways we wouldn’t choose on our own.

Before school started, I arranged for her to meet a girl from her grade over lunch so that she’d know at least one friendly face. It didn’t erase her fear, but it gave her a starting point.

And now, a few months later, she’s thriving. She still misses New Jersey deeply — but she’s made the sweetest friends here in South Carolina. She wakes up excited to go to school. Watching her push through something so uncomfortable and come out stronger has been one of my proudest moments as a mom.

I pray she’ll look back and see that this hard season was a defining moment for good — that discomfort wasn’t the enemy, it was the doorway to growth.

Choosing How We See It

A move can be both heartbreak and hope — loss and opportunity.
But the lens we choose matters.

I’ve learned that when God asks you to step into something new, He’s not asking you to leave everything good behind — He’s inviting you to grow into something deeper. Comfort may call louder, but growth always calls higher.

And that’s where I want to live — not in the safety of what’s familiar, but in the beautiful unknown where faith grows roots.

Reflection

If you’re standing at the edge of something unfamiliar right now — a move, a change, a calling that stretches you — know this: God doesn’t waste discomfort. The ache of leaving, the fear of beginning, the uncertainty of what’s next… all of it can become holy ground.

Growth isn’t about running from what hurts, but about trusting that even here — in the stretching, in the waiting — God is making something new.

So if comfort is calling you back, remember: you can’t cling to what’s familiar and reach for what’s next at the same time. Let go, lean in, and trust that the same God who led you out will also lead you through.

“See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
and streams in the wasteland.”
— Isaiah 43:19