There are moments when I look back and realize:

I had no idea what I was saying yes to.

And I’m not sure anyone who says yes to ministry ever really does.

In fact, I think that’s mercy.

Because if we truly understood the weight of obedience—the cost, the stretching, the late nights, the spiritual warfare, the stewardship, the heartbreak and the holy awe—we might hesitate. We might overanalyze. We might shrink back.

So instead, God often invites us into something that feels… small.

In 2018, I just wanted to host a “little” retreat. Just a gathering for young widows like me—women who were navigating grief while raising children alone. I wasn’t building a movement. I wasn’t casting a 10-year vision. I was simply trying to throw a few spiritual truths to the younger version of me—and maybe create space for a few other women to breathe and feel loved.

That was it. A small yes.

I could have never known that “little retreat” would multiply into stewarding 90 local ministries across the nation. That it would grow into a national conference. That we would curate close to 40 retreats, each one echoing that very first fragile gathering.

If you had told me then, I might have said no.

But God didn’t show me the 90 cities.

He showed me the next faithful step. Isn’t that how He works?

When Peter, James, and John were washing their nets after a long, disappointing night of fishing, they had no grid for what was coming. Jesus simply said:

“Now row out to deep water to cast your nets and you will have a great catch.”

Luke 5:4 TPT

It was just another net throw. Just another act of obedience.

But that “little” net throw led to boats sinking with blessing. It led to dropped nets. It led to discipleship. It led to the early church. It led to a gospel that we are still proclaiming today.

They couldn’t see two thousand years ahead, but heaven could. This is the blessing of hindsight.

We get to look back and see how one trembling yes becomes a generational ripple. How one step of obedience becomes kingdom architecture.

The prophet Zechariah reminds us:

“Those who despise the day of small beginnings will rejoice when they see Zerubbabel holding the plumb line in his hands.”

Zechariah 4:10 TPT

The Lord rejoices.

Not when it’s impressive.

Not when it scales.

Not when it trends.

When it begins.

Heaven celebrates seeds.

In the kingdom economy, nothing surrendered is insignificant. The smallest act of obedience carries eternal weight. A conversation. A prayer. A retreat for twenty widows. A net lowered one more time.

Jesus taught us this pattern over and over.

“Heaven’s kingdom can be compared to the tiny mustard seed that a man takes and plants in his field. Although the smallest of all seeds, it eventually grows into the greatest of garden plants.”

Matthew 13:31–32 TPT

Tiny. Hidden. Overlooked.

Yet unstoppable.

We live in a culture obsessed with scale and spotlight. But God advances his kingdom through hidden faithfulness. Through small beginnings. Through widows saying yes when they’re still grieving. Through fishermen throwing nets when they’re exhausted.

The holy advancement of the kingdom is built on little yeses.

Little yes to host.

Little yes to gather.

Little yes to pray.

Little yes to stay when it would be easier to run.

Little yes to plant when you’re not sure you’ll see harvest.

And here’s what I’ve learned: what feels small to us is not small in God’s economy. Every yes becomes a seed. And seeds carry multiplication inside them.

When I said yes to that first retreat, I wasn’t saying yes to 90 cities. I was saying yes to obedience. But obedience carries its own momentum because God himself breathes on surrendered things.

Paul writes:

“I planted the church, and Apollos came and cared for it, but it was God who caused it to grow.”

1 Corinthians 3:6 TPT

That’s the mystery.

We plant.

He multiplies.

We throw the net.

He fills it.

We host the “little retreat.”

He builds a movement.

The advancement of the kingdom has never depended on our ability to see the full picture. It depends on our willingness to trust the One who does.

And maybe that’s why he hides the outcome.

Maybe it’s mercy that we don’t know the full weight of our yes. Because if we did, we might try to control it. We might strive to manufacture it. We might carry burdens that were never ours to carry.

Instead, he simply says: 

Don’t despise it.

Don’t compare it.

Don’t minimize it.

 Just begin.

Somewhere today, a widow is gathering a few women in her living room and wondering if it matters.

Somewhere, a mother is praying with her children and wondering if heaven hears.

Somewhere, someone is throwing one more net in obedience after a long night of disappointment.

And heaven is rejoicing.

Because in God’s economy, small is sacred, hidden is powerful and seeds are strategic. The kingdom advances not through grand announcements, but through surrendered hearts.

All the little yeses — stitched together across cities, generations, and stories — become the tapestry of holy advancement. So if your yes feels small today, take heart. You may not see what it means.

Widow’s Might is a 365-day devotional offering powerful stories of women who have walked the path of widowhood and found solace, strength, and peace along the way. Each day provides

• comforting Bible verses and teachings to grow your confidence in God’s goodness,
• encouraging messages to support you on your hardest days, and
• uplifting prayers to renew your hope and grow closer to God.

Join a community of widows whose wisdom will guide you on your healing journey, helping you surrender to Jesus and find refuge in his arms. Watch as God transforms your suffering into joy. Click here to learn more.