I went out last night. I went back to a place that God has already called me out of. The club. The drinks. The scene. The momentary fun that always come with a price. Hanging out with someone that I had already been called away from. Why? Because it all felt familiar. Or maybe because I\’m in a new city and hanging out with an old friend gave me a false sense of comfort. Because I was grasping for a piece of my former life. Whether 1 reason or all, I do know that it all stems and leads to familiarity.
Was it fun in the moment? Kinda, but now that I\’m out of the moment. I feel very much convicted. Honestly, I felt some conviction before I even went out and I ignored it. But, once the music faded & the lights dimmed, I realized I didn\’t miss it. Not the people. Not the atmosphere. Not the recovery.
This morning I felt shame. So much so that I almost let it trick me out of my time with my Father, Abba. Thankfully, I came to mind & invited the Holy Spirit in. I repented and apologized to Him, and now we\’re here. It\’s 1pm in the afternoon, I\’m in the bed & in my robe & as I was writing in my prayer journal, I got the nudge to write here.
I heard Him say to me \”I called you out of that place, you don\’t belong there.\” and I know I don\’t, that\’s the kicker. It\’s not a place where the woman I am today and who I\’m being called to be, belongs. I didn\’t even feel comfortable there. I felt out of place if we\’re being honest.
Being in the wilderness can mess with your perspective. It’ll have you reminiscing about your old life like it was better—like the club, the chaos, the temporary highs were somehow safer than this unknown space. But that’s just a trick of the enemy. A distraction. A lie designed to keep you bound and stuck, longing for what God already freed you from. The wilderness isn’t a sign to go back—it’s a call to keep moving forward.
I\’m reminded of the Israelites in the wilderness. God had delivered them from slavery, split seas for them, provided manna from heaven and still, they grumbled. They missed Egypt. Missed the very place that oppressed them. And I get it now. The wilderness can make you forget how bad bondage really was. It can trick you into romanticizing your old life, just because the new one feels uncertain. But Egypt was never home. And neither is the club, the chaos, or the counterfeit comfort. God didn’t bring me this far to go back.
I also thought about Lot’s wife. How she looked back—just one glance—after God had clearly instructed them to leave and not turn around. And in that moment, she turned into a pillar of salt. That story used to feel extreme to me. But now I get it. Looking back can cost you. Not just your progress, but your peace, your purpose, your future. When God calls you out of something, it’s not to punish you—it’s to protect you. And going back, even mentally or emotionally, can harden your heart to what He’s trying to do next.
God had already delivered me from that space. I had peace, clarity & purpose outside of it. But returning – even briefly – showed me how far I\’ve come. And how much I don\’t want to go back.
If you\’ve ever returned to a place, a relationship, a job, anything you were called out of, you know the feeling. The discomfort. The quiet conviction. The grace that still meets you there. Don\’t allow the shame of a thing keep you from running back to the Lord. He welcomes us with open arms in our mistakes and takes the shame away from us.
I’m grateful for the reminder. For the whisper that said, “You don’t belong there anymore.” Growth isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s the quiet decision to walk away. Again. And I’m walking forward—into peace, into purpose, into the new thing God has for me.