Learning to Pivot: When It's Time to Embrace Change and Move Forward

There's a particular kind of courage required to keep going.

But I'm learning there's another kind required to admit:

Maybe I can't keep going this way.

That's where Jermaine and I find ourselves lately.

We've spent a lot of time talking about JPix, our future, what we're building and what this next season of our lives might look like.

Some of those conversations have been exciting.

Others have been uncomfortable.

Because we're having to consider something neither of us particularly enjoys:

Change.

What happens when a season stops producing?

I've been thinking about seasons lately. There are seasons when you plant. Seasons when you water. Seasons when you harvest.

And then there are seasons when you can keep standing in the same field doing everything you've always done... and realize it isn't producing the same fruit anymore.

That's a hard realization when you've invested so much into the field.

Your time.

Your money.

Your energy.

Your prayers.

Your plans.

Your identity.

You remember when it was fruitful, so your instinct is to keep doing more of what worked before.

Work harder.

Stay longer.

Try again.

Pray some more.

And sometimes perseverance is exactly what's required.

But I'm learning that sometimes faithfulness and familiarity aren't the same thing.

Sometimes the faithful thing may actually be having the courage to move.

Pivoting can feel a lot like failing.

I think that's one of the things I've been wrestling with.

When you're accustomed to accomplishing what you set out to do, changing direction can feel like admitting defeat.

You start asking yourself questions.

Did we do something wrong?

Should we have worked harder?

What will people think?

What if we change direction and THAT doesn't work either?

That last one will get you.

Because staying with what you know— even when you know it isn't working the way it once did—can somehow feel safer than stepping toward something you can't see yet.

At least the familiar disappointment is...familiar.

Uncertainty offers no such comfort.

But a pivot doesn't erase what came before it.

That's something I'm trying to remind myself.

Changing direction doesn't mean the previous direction was a mistake.

A season can be successful and still end.

Something can serve its purpose in your life without being meant to remain exactly the same forever.

And maybe that's where we get stuck.

We assume that because God blessed something before, we're supposed to hold onto that exact version of it forever.

But what if we're not?

What if some things are meant to prepare us for the next thing?

What if everything we've learned, every relationship we've built, every mistake we've made and every skill we've developed is coming with us?

Then maybe we're not starting over.

Maybe we're starting from experience.

We're figuring out what comes next.

I don't have a big announcement to make. Jermaine and I don't have everything figured out.

We're looking.

We're listening.

We're praying.

We're having conversations about our business, our careers, our family and what we want the next chapter of our lives to look like. And yes, there's anxiety in that.

Change sounds exciting when you're talking about somebody else's life.

When it's yours? Not quite as cute.

There are real decisions attached to it.

Real responsibilities.

Real financial implications.

And the very real possibility that you could take a step and discover that it wasn't the right one.

That's where faith becomes more than something we say. Because eventually, you have to move.

You can pray for direction, ask for wisdom and look for every sign imaginable, but there are moments when God doesn't hand you the entire map.

Sometimes you get enough light for the next step. And then you have to take it.

I'm grateful I don't have to do this part alone.

Maybe that's one of the things I appreciate most in this season.

I have Jermaine.

After 25 years of marriage, we've gone through enough together to know that difficult seasons don't always mean something is falling apart.

Sometimes we're simply being asked to figure something new out.

There are days when I'm anxious and he's steady. There are days when he's carrying something and I get to remind him that we'll figure it out. Sometimes neither one of us knows what we're doing.

And apparently that's when we pray.

But there's something comforting about looking across the table at the person you've built a life with and knowing:

Whatever comes next, we don't have to walk into it alone.

That doesn't remove the uncertainty. It just makes the uncertainty easier to carry.

Sunday Reflection

Maybe you're considering a pivot too.

A career.

A business.

A relationship with something you've outgrown.

A dream that needs to take a different shape.

Or simply a version of yourself that worked beautifully in one season but doesn't fit this one anymore.

Maybe the question isn't only:

“How do I make this work again?”

Maybe there's another question worth asking:

“Is God asking me to work harder here—or is He giving me permission to move?”

I don't think that's always an easy question to answer.

I'm discovering that discernment takes time.

But I also don't want fear of failure to keep me planted somewhere simply because it's familiar.

Until Next Sunday

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Learning to Pivot