Tonight, I walked into the prayer room at Centerpointe Apostolic Church with a mixture of celebration and sadness.

It’s a place that holds the record of my life for the past few years—a room that has seen both my battles and my celebrations with the Lord. I remember pouring my heart out here, praying simple, desperate phrases like, “Lord, I need you to open a door,” and “Show me the next step.” That kind of vulnerability makes this room an anchor, a place where meaning was forged in the heat of confusion.

My walk down memory lane was prompted by some sad news: Hickory Falls Bar & Grille is closing its doors. I’m truly celebrating the owners who have earned their retirement, but it’s still painful to say goodbye to a place that meant so much to me. (The world is losing the best carrot cake, by the way!)

Where Struggle Forged My Skill

I spent nearly eight years serving at Hickory Falls—it was my college job, my steady paycheck, and my launchpad. Despite the struggle—the days the work completely wore me out and the nights I went home genuinely wondering if I could pay the bills (God always worked it out, of course)—it was also a place of profound community and unexpected blessings.

It was where I forged lasting friendships that still sustain me today. It was the training ground that taught me my most valuable ministry skill: how to serve people with courtesy, honesty, and respect (One of the owners often said this in our pre-shift meetings). It wasn’t just a tough job; it was a home base that provided stability and prepared me for my entire career. That unique blend of difficulty and blessing is exactly why the place means so much.

It’s a landmark of my life, holding both profound victory and deep tragedy. It was there, while working a shift, that I received the phone call that my mother had passed away. I will never forget the way the entire staff—my work family—immediately rallied around me, showing me compassion in a moment of utter collapse.

It led me to a simple truth: The experiences, places, and relationships that mean the absolute most to us are rarely the easiest ones. The greatest meaning is forged in the perseverance of the struggle.

The Christmas Meaning: Mary’s Song

This Christmas season, we see this principle illustrated perfectly in the first Christmas. The joy we celebrate wasn’t free; it was earned through struggle and risk.

Think about Mary and Joseph. The stable and the manger weren’t marks of comfort; they were symbols of difficulty, uncertainty, and physical struggle—a pregnant woman traveling miles, a husband defending his wife from scandal, and a couple forced to find shelter among the animals.

But because they endured that cost, the meaning was magnified. Their reward was the Christ Child. That profound meaning is echoed in Mary’s own words, where she cried out: “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior!” (Luke 1:46-47 NLT) Her joy wasn’t cheap; it was a radical, world-altering joy forged in faith and perseverance through incredible difficulty.

An Invitation to Hope

Friend, maybe today you are in your own difficult season. Maybe you’re putting in the lonely hours of training, praying those desperate prayers in your own “prayer room,” or wondering if your efforts will ever pay off.

Remember this: You are in the forging process.

The places and battles that cost you the most are the places where God is establishing the most profound meaning in your life. The reward is not just the finish line or the career, but the strength, the character, and the compassion—the ability to serve even the “rough folks”—that is born out of the struggle.

Do not give up on the battle you are in right now. Keep showing up. Keep serving. Keep praying, “Show me the next step.” Because the moment you look back, you will see that the greatest joy and deepest meaning were anchored right there in your hardest journey.