What an Uber ride taught me about judgment, calling, and courage.
The shutdown is ending—for now—but what it’s revealed has stayed heavy on my heart.
Lately, I’ve been reflecting on what it really means to work for free. Many in our community know that story well.
When God gives you a calling, it doesn’t necessarily come with a salary.
There were many months I worked without pay to launch the U.S. Christian Chamber of Commerce. I’ve watched others take steps down from high-powered corporate careers to do what they love—to do what God called them to do.
But calling comes with cost and is often met with resistance—and the resistance doesn’t always come from “the world.” It comes from our own.
We judge each other’s appearances, methods, or backgrounds. We draw lines around who looks “called” enough or “qualified” enough to lead.
Then God sent me a holy reminder in the back seat of an Uber.
As I climbed in, I saw the driver—tattoos covering his face, neck, and hands. I wish I could say I didn’t judge him, but I did. I wrestled with thoughts I’m not proud of. My mind flooded with bias before my spirit had time to speak.
But as the ride began, something felt…different. The atmosphere was peaceful. The car was spotless. The music was worshipful. There was a fragrance I couldn’t explain.
So I started a conversation.
He told me he left a nine-year management career to drive Uber as ministry. He said, “This is how I reach people who’d never step into a church.”
His dream? To start a Christian gang—yes, you read that right—to rescue kids from the same street life that once held him captive.
In that moment, I realized I was sitting beside a modern-day missionary. I had judged the packaging and almost missed the presence of the Holy Spirit.
We prayed together before I got out. I left that car humbled, convicted, and inspired.
It reminded me
Some of us wear our scars inside. Others wear them where the world can see. But all of us are redeemed by the same blood.
In the Kingdom, nothing is wasted. Not the years, not the losses, not the tears, not the waiting. God uses every piece. And every one of us—tattooed and titled alike—has a role to play.
