The Greatest Sermons Aren’t Always Preached from a Pulpit

As I recently prepared to speak to a group of women about using their gifts to uplift others, I found myself reflecting on one of the greatest examples of purpose, faith, and perseverance I have ever known—my father.

I grew up as a preacher's kid.

My father has been a pastor for longer than I've been alive. He was also what many would call a bivocational pastor, balancing the responsibilities of ministry with a full-time career outside the church. As a child, I watched him faithfully navigate both worlds with commitment and conviction.

Our weeks followed a familiar rhythm. He would leave early for work and pick me up from school in his pickup truck. We often stopped by Pollman's Bakery for a bear claw on the way home. Wednesday evenings were devoted to Bible study. Thursdays were for choir rehearsal. Saturdays were reserved for preparing Sunday's sermon.

Looking back, I realize those Saturdays were sacred.

My mother would often take my brother and me shopping or to visit our grandmother, creating space for my father to study, pray, wrestle with Scripture, and seek God's direction. Week after week, I watched him prepare messages that challenged people to think differently, grow deeper, and draw closer to God.

What I didn't realize then was that he was teaching me something far greater than theology.

He was teaching me consistency.

He was teaching me service.

He was teaching me what it looks like to steward your gifts faithfully, even when no one is watching.

My father has always been our biggest cheerleader. He showed up for us. He encouraged us. He believed in us before we fully believed in ourselves.

Then life changed.

During my senior year of high school, my father was shot and severely injured, leaving him a paraplegic. The experience was devastating. Just seven years earlier, our family had lost my mother to cancer.

There were moments when the weight of those circumstances felt unbearable.

But God.

Over the last twenty-four years, I have witnessed one of the most powerful examples of resilience I could imagine. What could have become a story of defeat became a testimony of determination.

Year after year, I watched my father choose faith.

Day after day, I watched him choose hope.

Moment after moment, I watched him continue showing up—not because life was easy, but because his purpose was bigger than his pain.

He still gets behind the pulpit today, encouraging others and sharing God's word.

The older I get, the more I realize that some of the greatest sermons my father ever preached weren't from the pulpit—they were through the life he lived.

His journey taught me that perseverance is not the absence of struggle. It is the decision to keep moving forward despite it.

His example taught me that our circumstances do not have the final say.

His faith taught me that what was intended to break us can become part of the story that builds us.

At ForHer, we often talk about healing from who we were, honoring who we are, and reimagining what is possible as we evolve.

Many of us are carrying stories that have shaped us—for better or worse. Some of those stories involve fathers, mentors, family members, teachers, or friends whose examples have influenced our journeys.

Today, I am grateful for the example my father gave me.

Not because his life was easy.

Not because his path was perfect.

But because he demonstrated what it means to keep trusting God, keep serving others, and keep showing up.

His life reminds me that our greatest legacy is not found in what we accomplish.

It is found in how we live.

And sometimes, the greatest sermons are the ones spoken without words.