Woke up this morning thinking about my job and the journey I’ve been on these last almost 7 years.
I was selling ads for a newspaper, just trying to make ends meet, coming off the cusp of Esther’s House closing, and still working on healing my heart when I saw an ad for a Youth Career Manager. I almost skimmed past it because the thought of working in a job where I had to help people didn’t interest me. I wasn’t really in the mood to help people.
But I remember thinking, “This has to be better than selling newspaper ads. This is miserable.” So, I sent in my resume and quickly got a call for an interview.
I don’t remember much about the interview, but I remember one question they asked me, and I knew it would make or break me getting the job. They asked me what I would do if a teenager came in who was homeless and hungry. Would I go against protocol and do more than help them find training?
I didn’t hesitate. I said something like, “I know this is probably not the right answer you want, but I would absolutely go against protocol. If I have the opportunity to feed a kid, I’m gonna do it, and I don’t really care what the consequences are.”
They offered me the job the next day.
When I started in May of 2018, my job was to help people ages 16-24 find training, job placement, job skills, AEL assistance, etc. It could be intense at times. I quickly knew why they asked if I would ever be willing to break protocol. I met some pretty broken people who, before they needed help finding a job, needed to know they mattered – and needed some food in their bellies.
A couple months later, I received a promotion. I would be going into the prisons and registering the inmates who needed our services before their release. The goal was to set them up for success before they came back out into the world, overwhelmed with everything they needed to do to get employed, probation, and all the things.
Honestly, at first, I wasn’t interested. “They’re in there doing their time. Why do they need my help? They can help themselves. There are people out there who really need help.”
But the Lord was about to do a thing in my heart I didn’t know needed to happen. I spent a week going back and forth to the Algoa Correctional Center as part of this personal and professional development class with about 10 inmates from all walks of life.
From day one, I’ve never been the same. It was an intense class. We really had to get to know one another, and I instantly realized how much of a judgmental jerk I was. I looked around at most of these guys and realized the only difference between them and me was that I’d never gotten caught. It was humbling.
I remember having what I thought was just a normal conversation about my life – about my dad’s absence, with a couple of guys. But that “normal” conversation turned into my weeping with a group of tattooed inmates who realized they still had an opportunity to make things right with their kids.
My story had done something in their hearts. I remember driving home that day weeping because I thought God was done with me. I had believed the lies the enemy and others had told me that I would never do ministry again. That I wasn’t fit to lead others.
And here I was… in a situation I NEVER planned to be in, giving men in prison hope. Just wow!
What started out as me just supposed to be going into the prisons and helping with some paperwork, case management, helping them with a resume, etc., morphed into something I never could have wrapped my head around.
I would sit with men who seemed pissed off at the world, and many made it clear they had no desire to talk to me. I was just another “suit” to them. They knew I didn’t care about them. The last thing they were interested in was creating a resume. I felt like I was hitting brick walls.
So I went to my boss one day and said, “We’re wasting our time. We’re wasting my time, their time, and taxpayers’ time. These men think they have no value. They think they have nothing to offer the world. They think they’re too messed up to do anything. And to top it off, they don’t trust me.”
She then asked me something along these lines… “What are you gonna do about it?”
“We need to teach them their value. We need to help them understand they don’t have to be defined by their past. If they know they still have something to offer first, then when it comes time to create a resume, they’ll actually want to do it.
The next thing I knew, I was writing a curriculum to help them do just that. And I took that curriculum into four different facilities, eventually working with women.
And I stopped dressing up. Instead, at the beginning of each new class, I would show up in a Johnny Cash t-shirt. It didn’t immediately make them trust me, but it created conversation. And it helped them put their guards down, realizing I wasn’t just another “suit” showing up to check things off the list.
I had the opportunity, on the government’s dime, to weave parts of my dad’s story in and out of the curriculum. It never failed that at least one man would weep, grasping the fact that he had a second chance to be a dad to his kiddos.
I was still doing ministry, just in a completely different way than I’d ever planned.
But if you think the enemy didn’t fight back, you’d be wrong. I faced opposition from the get-go.
I was almost fired or lost my job multiple times, but each time, God showed up and saved the day. It still blows my mind.
The first time was after I’d reached out and asked the Director of the Department of Corrections for coffee. I had no agenda. I had just learned from other mentors that you should invite those you admire for coffee and ask them questions. I liked what Anne Precythe was doing and wanted to learn from her.
One morning, we sat down for coffee, and she said, “I never do this. I never agree to have coffee with people I don’t know. I don’t have time. But I felt like I was supposed to.” I smiled inside, knowing God was on the move.
Well… apparently it’s looked down upon to invite those “superior” to you to have coffee. What I didn’t know then was that our organization was about to be in big trouble because of some deep stuff the leadership had been doing. They assumed I was meeting to “blow the whistle.” I didn’t even know there was a whistle to blow.
I had to provide emails proving that the only thing I’d done was invite her to coffee. So I did.
Job saved. Sheesh.
Then all hell broke loose. All of a sudden, we were out of money. Job Centers were shutting down. 25 people were laid off. I came to work every day wondering if that would be the last day.
An interim Director came in to “save the day” and started cleaning house, rightly so. We were in a mess, and I don’t have enough time to tell you about it. To say it was an intense season is an understatement.
So, I started praying. I went into the office on weekends, anointed the place with oil, and prayed. I staked claim for where I knew the Lord had me and wasn’t about to just hand it over.
God is in the details. On a Tuesday afternoon, the interim Director shared the news that I was losing my job. It was all over. I walked back to my desk, saddened, knowing that it wasn’t over quite yet. I just didn’t know how.
About three weeks earlier, I started working on this spreadsheet, tracking the success of our justice-involved clientele. I hate spreadsheets, so I knew there was a bigger reason for this. I spent weeks on it and had literally just finished it the week I was “let go.”
By the end of the day that Tuesday – the same day I’d been told it was over – I had my job back. What saved it? Well, we know God, but it was that “stupid” spreadsheet. Our recidivism rate was below 10%. These men and women had jobs and were contributing to society as taxpayers. It wasn’t just my words stating it – the proof was in the pudding.
“You just saved your job,” she said.
I knew in my knower that those hours I’d spent praying, decreeing, and declaring had paid off. Not only that, but I somehow got a raise during the biggest crisis in our organization.
It was the first time in years that I hadn’t had to decide between buying Christmas presents or paying for my medicine.
The bad news was that my boss had lost her job. So there I was, battling “survivor’s guilt,” still showing up to work every day with my co-workers, exhausted in this battle of wondering what was coming down the pike next.
In the meantime, my co-worker suddenly became my boss, and the enemy didn’t even give us a second to catch our breath.
She immediately turned on me and started digging in, looking for something to come after me at every corner. I didn’t understand why. I thought she was my friend. What had I done to her? And the accusations she was making had no merit, but I was so tired of fighting this battle that I didn’t know what to do.
So I kept praying. But that wasn’t enough.
God told me to love. “Perfect love casts out fear.” He would have to show me what that looked like because I had no idea what to do from here.
When she demanded I do something, I just did it. When she reprimanded me for something without merit, I would respectfully disagree. I didn’t allow her to treat me poorly, but I put my foot down respectfully. Then I would go home and cry and wonder what happened to my friend.
One day, I remembered Bob Goff’s story about buying cake pops for his enemies, so I pulled into Starbucks, bought some cake pops, and brought them to her. She was cordial about it, but that was about it.
Then the hammer came down again. I was called into a meeting with her and our Interim Director, where I was accused of saying and doing things to another employee. To say I was stunned was an understatement.
I remember I was struggling particularly hard that day with a migraine and was trying to remain calm. All I could say was, “None of those things are true. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”
I drove home, realizing I’d probably just lost my job, and I honestly wasn’t sure why. The enemy loves to create chaos and confusion. He’d done a good job.
The next morning, though, I received a phone call from the Interim Director stating everything was fine. The employee who’d made the false claims literally packed up her desk in the middle of the day and left after being questioned about the accusations.
Luckily, another co-worker had been present to attest that I hadn’t been a part of anything I was accused of.
Job saved. Sheesh.
And then suddenly…
My boss, myself, and another co-worker had to ride together one day for a meeting.
We’d stopped for lunch on the way back, and everything was going fine. We had normal conversation. I think I even made her laugh a little. I went to the bathroom, and when I came back, she was crying.
She looked at me and said, “I have treated you so horribly, and I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” I was stunned.
It turns out my former boss – the one I was feeling “survivor guilt” over had told her some lies before leaving. She was mad about losing her job and me keeping mine, so she went into destruction mode. And my new boss had believed those lies and wanted to punish me.
I’ll never forget that day. I looked right at her and said, “I forgive you.” We hugged. We cried. We finished our pizza, and the rest is history. From that day forward, God restored our working relationship AND our friendship.
Job saved. Sheesh.
Fast forward to the great toilet paper crisis of 2020. We had a new director in place. We were down to only a handful of employees on the board. I was still going into the prisons, but I could tell I needed a break. It was a fulfilling job but heavy.
One day, we got a phone call that the world shut down, which meant the prisons weren’t letting people in, and just like that – it was all over.
I sat in my pajamas, feeling relieved that I was getting a break from the mental heaviness that job held and also wondering what in the heck would happen next.
But I wasn’t worried. I’d seen God’s faithfulness in that job time and time again.
And then… our Assistant Director remembered that I’d built the new board a website during my time there because the old one was horrible, but nothing had ever been done with it. It was just sitting there. He told the new Director about it.
So, she met with me one day and realized I had a background in communications and marketing. Most other regions in the state didn’t have an updated website. They didn’t have someone with those skills. They didn’t have the budget they needed to hire.
But we did. And so, just like that, two weeks into sitting in my pajamas wondering what was coming next, I got a promotion and a raise.
We rebranded. We built a website. We created a social media presence. We created the first workforce podcast in the state, with yours truly as the host.
We banded together like never before as a team and brought our once-depleted organization, on the verge of being shut down, out of the ashes.
I know who really did it. Jehovah Jireh – the God who ALWAYS provides!
Job saved. Sheesh.
As I write this, I’m coming up on 7 years at my job with the Central Workforce Development Board. Man, we’ve been through some things.
And today, things are shaky. WIOA (our funding) hasn’t been reauthorized. We don’t know what the future holds with the way things are going in federal cuts.
Right now, I have a job through June. But I’m not worried. God is faithful. He’s Jehovah Jireh. He promises to never leave us.
And it’s interesting timing that He’s opening all these music doors and that we’ve set a goal together to make music full-time by 2026. But He’s never done anything “normal” in my life, so we’ll see how it plays out. It’s certainly gonna take a miracle, but it’s a good thing that’s His specialty.
Wherever you’re at, you have an opportunity to be in ministry. There are so many things I didn’t have time to share in this post – the people I got to love on. The people who helped soften my heart.
Whether you’re a teacher, a janitor, a CEO, a firefighter, an assistant, or a pastor, a stay-at-home mom, what you’re doing matters.
It was December 2008. I received a phone call telling me they didn’t think my dad was going to make it through the night. Hospice was coming in to offer him end-of-life care.
I was standing near my friend Jennifer’s spare bedroom dresser when I got the call. It was a phone call no 25-year-old girl who had lived her life desperate for the love of her dad, wanted to receive.
I immediately got in the car to go to him. I knew he had to know Jesus before he died. I had to tell him about Jesus!
Little did I know, my carefully planned ‘salvation talk’ would take an unexpected turn. As they say, when you make plans for God, He chuckles.
I got to the house and he was lying in the bed. Hospice hadn’t yet brought the hospital bed. I remember nothing except the next thing I knew, there was a Bible on his bed, we were talking about something from Beth Moore, and I asked him if he wanted to accept Jesus into his heart. He couldn’t talk much; he was too weak, but he said yes.
And there, at that bedside, my dad gave his life to Jesus!
That night, I slept beside him in the bed because there was nowhere else to stay. It was the last time he’d ever wrap his arms around the “little girl” who wanted nothing more than to have a healthy relationship with her dad.
I woke up the next morning and he was still there. So weak. So feeble. So sick. But hanging on.
What started as “he won’t make it through the night” became weeks. We prayed together, asked for each other’s forgiveness, and even laughed a time or two when he was strong enough to wake up. I read him the Bible, and we rang in 2009 together at my aunt Sherri’s house.
Though there’s so much in the in-between, it would take too long to tell the story. Let’s just say God intervened and brought my dad back from the pit of death, literally.
January 2009
My mom and I drove him to the hospital to check him in so he could be treated for the hole in his lung. Talk about the grace of God. There stood the woman he’d divorced, helping carry him into the hospital, despite their past, because LOVE covers a multitude of sins.
Before we took him to the hospital, Dad and I got in the car and rode some gravel roads through Belle. We talked about this being a second chance for him and that he had the opportunity to do things differently. He seemed excited.
At the hospital, I hugged him goodbye and told him we’d see each other again soon.
February 23, 2009
We talked on the phone. I was coming down for the weekend, and we were going to ride gravel roads and make plans to go fishing. I was excited!
Later that evening, I missed his call, but he left a voice message telling me he loved me.
February 24, 2009.
My mom, Christi, showed up at 4:30 in the morning to tell me my dad died.
Died. Gone.
That is something no mother ever wants to tell her daughter. To say I grieved is an understatement.
Then there I sat with my best friend Jammie, holding my hand at the funeral home, hearing words like “cremation,” “burial,” and “death certificate.” No daughter should ever have to listen to these words at 25 years old.
I wish I could say something like, “It was his time to go,” or “he lost his battle with cancer.” But no… I can’t tell you that because it wouldn’t be true.
I learned later that my dad most likely died from an accidental overdose. Fentanyl. It had controlled him for years, and finally, it took his life.
Addiction. It stole my dad. Addiction. It stole him from ever walking me down the aisle. Addiction. It left me longing for a relationship I never got to have with a man I so desperately wanted to know better.
My opportunity to mourn with hope. I hope that despite the sadness and the heartbreak, someday I WILL dance with my dad in heaven.
What if I hadn’t gone to see him with the urgency to lead him to Christ? I wouldn’t be able to mourn with hope.
What if I had been too afraid to talk to him about Jesus because I didn’t want to offend him or I didn’t want to be rejected again? I wouldn’t be able to mourn with hope.
Today, I miss so many “what ifs,” but I mourn with hope, knowing I will see him again someday.
I won’t pretend my dad didn’t die a broken man. He was in bondage. Though he had accepted Jesus, he hadn’t yet accepted the freedom Jesus could offer him from the chains of addiction wrapped around him so tightly.
Oh, what I would have given to see that for him.
BUT… God is not done telling my dad’s story. As a matter of fact, He’s about to do it in a way I never expected.
I’m not sure “excited” is the right word to express the news, but it works for now. God woke me up a few weeks ago to tell me that He wanted me to write an album telling my dad’s story.
So, I’m doing it. I’m not ready to release all the details yet, but I will. Right now, I’m writing. And healing. And grieving. And healing some more. It’s actually been an incredible journey, and it’s only just begun.
Keep me in your prayers as we push forward in this project because I believe He’s about to blow the top off like never before and do things with this project I could never even wrap my head around.
Today, 16 years ago, my life was forever changed. But God wastes nothing, and He’s doing something new. Doug Graham’s tragedy will not be wasted.
A few months ago, I was sitting across from an industry pro over coffee in Nashville, and I shared with him, “I don’t know where I fit. I’m not sure I fit in the church and don’t really fit in the bar every night.”
He asked me… “Who told you that?”
“I just told you that,” I replied with a strange look on my face.
He gently called me up and out of that lie for the next hour, reminding me I could fit anywhere. I have the stories and the songs that fit in the church and a bar. He reminded me I have a message that matters.
So I came home and sat on our conversation for a minute. Then, I got brave enough to talk to the Lord about it. Honestly, I’d been avoiding the conversation.
It went a little something like this…
Me: God, why would I want to play music full-time in churches? I don’t even like the church right now. (Yes, I’m a worship leader. Yes, that’s a conversation for another day.)
God: You’re talking about my bride.
Me: Crap. You’re right. I’m sorry. What do you want me to do, Papa? I want to do what You want.
God: I want you to tell the church I love them, and I’m giving you the chance to do it with music and laughter.
Me: Tears and Silence
But we all know I can’t stay silent for long. So, through the tears, I told the Lord, “If this is what you want me to do, I’ll do it.”
God: Then let me walk with you in this. I’ll go before and behind you. We’ll do things together for My Kingdom – more than you could ever ask or imagine.
I then went and changed my pants because the thought scared the crap out of me.
I then spoke those words out loud to trusted friends because I knew once I said them, I couldn’t take them back: “I want to do music full-time by 2026.”
And so here I am, on that path, building the dreams God has put on my heart, staying steadfast in who God called me to be so that I can tell others how much He loves them.
So, I’m here to announce I’m doing this thang, and there’s no looking back!
That said, I need your help! I want to bring “A Night of Music & Laughter with Sundi Jo” to your church or backyard. There’s going to be something for everyone: music, laughter, authentic storytelling, and a whole lot of Jesus.
Here’s the thing: churches aren’t just going to book someone they know nothing about. It’s going to take a personal connection to the pastor, administrative assistant, etc., to book a show.
And that’s where I need your help, my friend.
Can you connect me to your church? Or, if you’re the one in charge of bringing others in, I’d love to chat. You can get more details on “A Night of Music & Laughter” church events here…
Interested in a backyard concert? Let’s do this! It’s just me, you, and several of your amazing friends, family members, neighbors, etc. It’s a laid-back night of fun, music, and, of course, some shenanigans. You can get more info on house concerts here …
Ozark Songsmiths with Sundi Jo, a new monthly songwriters round, will kick off on Thursday, July 18, from 6-8 p.m. at Taps on Downing Street. This event, set to become a regular highlight on the third Thursday of every month, aims to bring together songwriters and music enthusiasts in a warm and welcoming atmosphere.
Recognizing the wealth of songwriting talent in the Ozarks, Sundi Jo created Ozark Songsmiths to provide a welcoming space for songwriters to connect and share their work. “I wanted to create a regular gathering where songwriters can support each other, and audiences can connect through the power of music,” said Sundi Jo.
Sundi Jo, an Americana/Roots Gospel Branson and Nashville recording artist, singer, and songwriter, is the driving force behind this initiative. Imagine a voice that sounds like a blend of Lucinda Williams, Iris Dement, Anne Wilson, and Zach Williams, and you’ll find Sundi Jo. She brings a soulful style to her music that makes her unforgettable. Her voice and ability to write songs from the heart drive her passion to keep making music.
Her latest release, “Ugly Houses,” is available now wherever you stream music.
Taps on Downing Street is the perfect venue for the night. With 24 craft beers, local wines, and delicious food, the modern-rustic taproom is ideal for hanging out with friends and listening to great music. They’ve got plenty of room for outdoor fun, fire pits, cornhole, and live music.
Whether you’re a songwriter looking to share your music or a music lover eager to discover new talents, Ozark Songsmiths with Sundi Jo is the place to be. To learn more, visit ozarksongsmiths.com.
“Well I ain’t no fancy castle / Got too much junk inside / But if you buy ugly houses, Lord / I’m taking down my for-sale sign,” Sundi Jo sings with her soulful voice, bringing back that retro style as though you’re dropping the needle down on an old vinyl record. Her raw vocals quickly draw listeners in.
Rising music artist Sundi Jo is excited to announce her latest release, “Ugly Houses.” The song is now available on all major streaming platforms.
“Ugly Houses” is a soulful song about diving into the deepest places of our hearts and seeing the beauty that God sees. With its catchy melody, raw lyrics, and relatable message of redemption, “Ugly Houses” will surely touch listeners’ hearts.
Though Sundi Jo is a songwriter who records most of her own work, “Ugly Houses” was written by Hannah Dasher and Robert Arthur.
“When I first heard Hannah’s version of ‘Ugly Houses,’ I was completely captivated,” says Sundi Jo. “The message spoke to me personally, and I knew I had to make it my own. I’m so grateful to Hannah for giving me her blessing to share my own version with the world. I called up my buddy, Brad Hacker, from Little Alien Music Production and told him I wanted to make this my own. He worked his magic, and here we are. I love it!”
Sundi Jo is a Branson, Missouri-based artist whose soulful style and heartfelt songwriting make her music unforgettable. Her passion for creating music that resonates with listeners shines through in every note she sings.
“I want to write and perform songs that people can resonate with and really feel. The world needs more vulnerability, and so does the church. I hope to provide that, along with some hope.”
Listeners can stream and download “Ugly Houses” on Apple Music, Spotify, and all major digital platforms. To stay updated on Sundi Jo’s latest news and releases, follow her on social media and visit sundijo.com.
Not too long ago, I Googled “How to Take a Sabbath.” I honestly didn’t know how to do it, and I wanted to do it well.
Yes… I’ve been a Christian for 18 years and wasn’t sure how to take a Sabbath.
Yes… I’m a Keynote speaker who has taught multiple people about freedom in Christ, but I’m still trying to figure out what Sabbath looks like.
Yes… I lead worship on Sunday mornings and had to google “How to take a Sabbath.”
A relationship with Jesus is a daily walk—hopefully, in the right direction—and I strive to keep doing that. God had been gently nudging me to make the Sabbath a priority. My heart desired to honor that, but I didn’t know how.
My idea of taking a Sabbath was this: You aren’t supposed to do anything. You can’t wash a dish, cook dinner, or anything else. You just have to sit in a chair and “rest” all day. Sitting in the chair and resting sounds great. Not washing dishes or cooking sounds even better. But when I began to think about it, it felt like a checklist of things we weren’t allowed to do in order to be closer to God and honor a day He’s called to be set apart. That just doesn’t sound like the God I know.
A while back, I was reading a book from Dutch Sheets, and he was talking about the Sabbath. It was so eye-opening. The Sabbath, also known as Shabbat in Hebrew, is far more than just a dull day set aside to make sure you don’t do anything so that you don’t upset God. Shabath, the Hebrew word for Sabbath, means not only “to stop or cease from work” but also “to celebrate.”
Dutch writes, “In much the same way we celebrate certain days – holidays, for example – by resting from work, this is the concept of Shabath. On the seventh day, God stopped working and celebrated! He was so excited about having a family that He decided it would be commemorated with a “rest and celebration day.” That puts a new twist on taking a sabbath. Every seventh day, we should all rest and celebrate our membership in God’s family with joy and great rejoicing. If we would do so, the gospel we preach would be a lot more appealing. Abandon your concept of a passionless, boring God. Reject all religious stereotyping of Him. Let your heavenly Father be real, relevant, relational and fun. Only then will you truly experience the pleasure of His company.”
Isn’t that so good? Yes, Sundi Jo. Abandon your concept of a passionless, boring God.
Back to my Google search. Between working full-time, leading a church, and building my dreams in music, I’m still figuring out how to balance it all. As I brought it to the Lord, He kept reminding me about the Sabbath—about rest, about celebration.
So, not long ago, I picked a day and decided I was going to do this Sabbath thing. I had no clue what I was doing, but I was determined to do it. I decided it would start after I got home from church and run through Monday.
I came home, finished up a couple of church tasks, took a nap, and woke up ready to go. Except I didn’t know what I was ready to do. I journaled, read, ate something, and watched some TV. I got so anxious about Sabbathing that I didn’t rest or celebrate at all. So, I drove to my best friend’s house and played Mario with my nephew.
When I got home that evening, I Googled “How to take a Sabbath.” Surprise, a variety of articles came up, but one in particular caught my attention. I wish I had saved it.
But something he said stuck out to me. The author shared that those who are creative all day should try to do something with their hands on the Sabbath, and those who work with their hands or do physical labor all week should do something creative. I really liked the idea.
So, the following week, I decided to try again. I finished some touches on cleaning the garage, then I rearranged my living room. I started to feel guilty because I felt like I was working, but then I talked to the Lord about it. He asked me what I was feeling while I was rearranging. “Excitement,” I said. “Excitement that I was doing something new. And it made me feel happy.” And I knew the Lord was smiling, too, because, at that moment, I had rested. I had celebrated. Because I was still walking with Him. I was singing to worship music blaring while I was figuring out where I wanted my couch. I didn’t stress about it. I didn’t look at the clock, wondering if I was sabbathing right. It was peace. It was peace because I took God out of that box I tend to put Him in.
Last weekend, I planted a garden with my adult bff and my mini bff. We had to weed the garden beds and I did some sweating. But then we planted and watered, and I stared at something I’d helped make. Something that would give back – vegetables that would nourish the body God gave me and called me to take care of. And I didn’t pay attention to the time. I was just present. And I know it made God smile.
So, here I am, still trying to figure out this Sabbathing journey. Still trying to figure out how to rest and celebrate with God. Still trying to figure out how to honor His desire for me to take one day and reset with Him. And I’m so grateful for His grace on the journey.
What are some of your favorite things to do on the Sabbath?
