After five years of working at the best publication covering Texas politics, I’ll be plunging into the middle of the chaos. In January, I’ll officially begin a new role as the chief of staff for Rep.-Elect Daniel Alders of Tyler.
I’m extremely grateful for the formative years I spent at The Texan and the amazing people I was blessed to work with there. However, as I did not see myself pursuing a lifelong career in journalism, I knew the time was ripe to move on to a new opportunity.
Early on this year, I firmly believed that God was leading me toward Washington, D.C. But in God’s way and in His timing, He turned my heart back to opportunities in Austin.
In the world of politics—and especially in the tumultuous world of Texas politics with all of its drama—I would find it extremely difficult to work for someone I don’t respect. In business you stand behind a company, but in the office of a representative you stand behind a person. And I’m not keen on tying my reputation to someone who lacks character.
Fortunately, that is not remotely a problem with my soon-to-be boss. He’s of good repute and loves the Lord, his family, his church, his community, and Texas. He values the kind of prudent policies that will make Texas a better place to live and make it more prosperous, safe, and free. He will do a fantastic job representing the people of House District 6, and I’m looking forward to supporting him in that mission alongside a stellar team.
Having been around Texas politics for the past five years as a spectator in the media, I know the mess that I’m walking into this legislative session. For those who follow Texas politics closely, the high tension at the moment is no secret.
But I’m optimistic about the opportunities that God has ahead for us—both in terms of the policy that the legislature can pass and the ways that God might use me personally. That’s the mindset I have as I walk into the new position: I want to serve God through it.
A few months ago, someone asked me what my life verse was, but I didn’t have a good answer because I wasn’t sure of a single verse that encapsulated so many aspects of what God has put on my heart. But recently, as my pastor at Austin Ridge Bible Church has been teaching through the Book of Acts, one single verse did stand out:
“But I do not consider my life of any account as dear to myself, so that I may finish my course and the ministry which I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify solemnly of the gospel of the grace of God.” (Acts 20:24)
Of course, this verse in its primary context is really a life verse of Paul, applicable first and foremost to the special calling that he received on the road to Damascus. But I love it because so much of it is applicable to my life as well, and it encapsulates so many important ideas.
To not consider my life dear to myself is an act of submission to God. It is to take up my cross, to die to myself, to fully surrender to His will, to go all in for Jesus. If God ever calls me to something that I refuse, may He do whatever it takes to root the stubbornness out of me. There is only room for one on the throne of my heart, and when I sit on it, things don’t go well.
This submission to God brings to mind another one of my favorite passages, Jesus’s parable of the talents (Matthew 25:14-30). I am entrusted to be a steward of God’s blessing in my life, faithfully using what He has given for His glory, including my career. I must hold onto such plans for His blessings loosely, for I do not know what my life will be like tomorrow (James 4:13-15). God will give and He will take away, and when He does the latter, I must learn and relearn again and again to trust His sovereignty, that He will work together all things for good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28).
To finish my course means that I must persevere in accordance with His calling. And such perseverance is hard because I live in a spiritual war zone. And at the Capitol, I’ll be walking into the frontlines. When I’m not caught up in my own old sin nature and the tendencies of my flesh toward pride, envy, lust, and so on, I’m faced with the wiles of the enemy—spiritual attacks that aim, albeit in futility, to diminish God’s glory by any means necessary.
And I’ve found that it’s not just simply my own weaknesses that the enemy seeks to leverage with temptation. Often, the most brutal spiritual attacks are not those aimed at me but those aimed at the people closest to me. When the enemy can lure the people I love into anger and anxiety, I am the collateral damage; and when I’m weakened, that is when the enemy will strike again at me.
But I must remain firm. I must not give the devil an opportunity (Ephesians 4:27), but must respond in kindness and gracious patience. I must resist the devil, and he will flee; I must draw near to God, and He will draw near to me (James 4:7-8).
Lastly, like Paul, I see God calling me to testify. I certainly didn’t have quite the miraculous and explicit calling that Paul had at his conversion, but God has placed it on my heart to be a voice of reason in a sea of madness. He has not gifted me with evangelism in the way that He has gifted others, but I believe He has set me apart to be a steady source of sanity, to extol prudence in a world of folly, to be a watchman ready to proclaim the urgent truth regardless of how such warnings are received (Ezekiel 33).
This idea has been a running theme throughout my life, both with my time in journalism and my hobby of writing fiction. And I have no doubt that He’ll continue to use me in this way under the pink dome—a time that I pray is profitable both in the immediate effects I can have there and in the ways He might use it to shape me for the rest of my life.
