My job this year has been pretty stellar—I drive a set of fabulous twins to school every morning. It is truly the best gig a college student could have. Each weekday morning, I crawl out of bed before the sun rises, scurry to my car, drive down Airline Road, and scoop them up. I have the routine down (and so does my roommate—she’s woken me up a few times to make sure I wasn’t late). It’s pretty cut and dry, the same thing every day. 

But then one day, I approached my car at the same time as every other morning, and something was different. My windshield was coated in a layer of unwanted, pesky white flakes. What is this!? I thought. I came to school in Texas to get away from the frost—who knew it got below 35 degrees in this southern city?

Every window on my car was so fogged up that driving was nearly impossible. And of course, I was running a few minutes behind schedule, and I had five minutes to complete the five-minute drive—after this frost vanished.  I frantically closed the door and blasted the heat in an attempt to defrost at least the windshield. This Iowa girl knows it takes a minute to usher every snarky drop of frozen dew off of a windshield, though. It’s not an instantaneous process. Turns out I needed to start checking the weather and waking up a few minutes earlier. But in that moment, when I thought I would be late and I would never see the sweet light of day through the foggy windows again, all I wanted were clear windows. Clarity. The ability to see what I needed to see… the road. Seems like a pretty legitimate desire if you ask me. 

After a few minutes of waiting for the frost to clear, I was cutting it too close on time. I shifted into drive and raced down Airline. While I could see decently well on most windshields now, I still didn’t have perfect clarity. Don’t worry, I was safe, but I wanted every surface to defrost… now! I didn’t want to risk anything, I didn’t want the girls to get in and feel unsafe, and I didn’t want to deal with winter conditions—this is why I came to school in the south, after all. To escape the classic winterisms that plagued my childhood. 

That morning I dropped the twins off at school in no time and went about my day as cool as a cucumber and quickly forgot about the morning’s flurry of anxiety. This is a silly story, but as I think back to it, I can’t help but wonder if this anecdote signals something deeper in me, in all of us. 

I so often want things to be clear. To be easy. Predictable. I want to understand every part of my journey and know why things are happening when they’re happening. I want the assurance upfront that the road I’m walking is going to lead somewhere fabulous, and of course, better than where I’m at now. It’s like I need a visual glimpse or image of what things will be like on the other side and that walking this road will only ensure those visions come to fruition. 

But that’s not exactly how God works or how we grow into the people He wants us to be. We don’t build resilience by knowing everything or understanding the purpose behind every bump and bruise along the way, even when we ask for it—now!

By the end of January, many goals and hopes for this new year have lost their luster. They sounded good in theory, but then we started applying them or creating new habits and rhythms, instead of immediate change and transformation, things got real. The resolutions lost their sparkle. The salad lost its appeal. The discipline became a burden. And as much as I’d like to say differently, I want change to show up on my doorstep overnight in a tidy, neat box that I can hold in my hands and contain and control. 

Again, it’s not a big newsflash that that’s not how God works. It turns out, though, that the growth and transformation happen in the moments when I get in my car and start driving, even though there might be some frost still left on the corners of my windshield. I have to get going, and once I’ve got the engine started, I’ve got to keep it going. What was it Newton said about objects in motion? Oh, yes. Staying in motion. Objects in motion stay in motion. That’s when growth and transformation happen. Not after one day of eating healthy, two days of minimized screen time, or three trips to the gym. 

This process is a bit like holding a plank. I might look into your eyes and tell you that I want a six-pack, so I set myself up in prime plank position. Align leggings, check. Motivational playlist, yep. Clear goal in sight? You got it. Hold a plank for 60 seconds, honey. Just 60 seconds.

I’ve created the optimal environment for myself to reach said goal, but then something kind of strange happens. If you’re in the kind of shape I’m in, 15 seconds pass, and things get… hard. I hold my body up in the plank position, and… I start shaking. I’m trembling to the point I think something has to be wrong. Something is wrong, right? This can’t be normal. It can’t be this hard, obviously. Holding a plank for 60 seconds is supposed to get me the six-pack I’m after, but it’s not supposed to be this trying. 

Unless it is. 

I squirm and fidget and tell myself I’m not going to put my knee down, but then I do. I make excuses and say this was harder than I thought so I simply must be doing it wrong and I can start again tomorrow. There’s always tomorrow. 

Sometimes, though, I think we just need a kick in our cute little butts to keep going. To dig in when it gets tough, to hunker down with a slow, steady rhythm of breathing, to push through the pain and shaky palms. That’s how we develop the spiritual six-pack, and that is exactly where we become who God has desired us to be all along—X marks the spot on that yoga mat. It’s right there in the trembling and uncertainty and difficulty that He stretches us and strengthens us and we develop something that only comes when we keep at it long enough: endurance. 

There’s this idea in my head that I will arrive someday at a better and improved life, and in that magical, dreamy vision I somehow created for myself, I won’t have to navigate any unwanted changes or difficult circumstances. I’m not sure where I picked this idea up, because I’ve never really said it out loud, but it’s been planted in my head all along. 

The truth is that we will never wake up one morning and have “arrived,” as I’ve incorrectly believed. At least, not on this side of heaven. And we can’t order endurance on Amazon. We have to simply keep going. Keep working on the habits. Keep opening our Bibles. Keep drinking the water, eating the veggies, and pouring into the friendships. We don’t wake up to healthy bodies, rocking spiritual lives, and astounding community without putting in the work. And in my limited experience, it seems like more often than not, there will be some frost on the windshield. There will be some things I can’t see, some moments I don’t understand, and a destination I can’t perfectly grapple with in the here and now. 

There will be no perfect circumstances. Tomorrow will always beckon us to put off our goals and healthy habits, but today will also always extend an invitation to implement those habits right! now! Why wait? Why expect perfect circumstances to make it a smooth process?

I say all these things to leave you with this: if you feel like you’ve been working hard at certain things—or all things—and nothing is “working,” you’re wasting your time, you’re not making any progress, or you’re not sure if it’s worth it anymore, I’m here to tell you that that is an absolute lie. Your work and your progress do not go unnoticed, no matter what it feels like today. There is One who sees every move you make and every wise, strong choice you reach for, even when it’s not easy—especially when it’s not easy. 

You are working. You are making progress. You are killing the game. It’s just hard to see it in ourselves when we’re in the (usually messy) middle. It’s hard to see the transformation when frost is covering part of the picture. But know that you are doing it. Your work and consistency and progress is doing a work so beautiful in you it’s hard to find words for. The Holy Spirit is transforming you more and more into the image of Jesus every single day, and while you aren’t able to see it when you look in the mirror, I guarantee the people around you can. And if not now, they will. You will. He will never fail you, and He will not waste this time. 

So for now, for those of us who feel like we’ve been driving forever and ever, we keep the car in drive. We stay in it. We fight for our growth and healthy choices and goals. We show up, keep it moving, and let Him handle the rest. It’s so much better that way. And more often than not, He’ll add in a few fun detours along the way that are far better than any route we could’ve planned for ourselves. You got it, girl. Defrost those windows and put the car in drive. But whatever you do—keep moving.