Don't Skip the Small Rooms

After a season that felt much like sitting in a den of lions, surrounded by pressure, uncertainty and circumstances that tested everything I had learned, the Holy Spirit began to illuminate my path. I sensed a shift in the atmosphere, as though I were approaching a different season.

Then I saw a stage.

There were chairs before me, and I stood in front of a microphone. The setting was beautiful and grand, suggesting a place of visibility, influence and opportunity to speak. Yet alongside this impressive scene, I was shown something entirely different.

A small room.

The contrast was striking. Why would my attention be drawn to something so ordinary when such a magnificent stage stood before me? Surely the stage was where the significance lay.

But the small room had its own message.

I began to understand that before God entrusts us with greater responsibilities, there are places of preparation that may never be seen or celebrated by others. Much of what sustains a person publicly must first be cultivated privately.

The stage may reveal the gift, but the small room develops the character needed to carry it.

And there is more than one room.

The Classroom

The classroom is where we discover that knowing the Word and living the Word are not always the same thing.

We may quote Scripture confidently, explain its meaning and even encourage others through it, yet find ourselves struggling when those same truths confront our own circumstances.

It is one thing to speak about forgiveness and another to forgive someone who has deeply wounded us. We can teach about faith while discovering how difficult it is to trust God when everything around us appears uncertain.

The Holy Spirit brings us back to lessons we thought we had mastered, not because nothing was learned, but because there are depths of understanding that knowledge alone cannot reach.

The classroom requires humility. We must remain willing to be corrected, challenged and taught, even when we believe we have grown beyond certain lessons.

A person entrusted to teach others must never lose the willingness to be taught.

The Prayer Room

There is a difference between knowing about God and cultivating a relationship with Him.

In the prayer room, we learn to seek His presence without an audience or the expectation of recognition. Our prayers are no longer shaped merely by what we need Him to do, but by our desire to know Him more deeply.

Public ministry can bring demands that are difficult to anticipate. People may seek guidance, encouragement, answers and spiritual support. Without a private life rooted in prayer, it becomes easy to rely upon experience, knowledge or gifting while neglecting the very source of our strength.

Jesus Himself withdrew to pray.

Luke 5:16 tells us, "And he withdrew himself into the wilderness, and prayed."

If Christ demonstrated the importance of withdrawing from the demands around Him, how much more should we recognise our need for communion with the Father?

The prayer room is where our relationship with God is nurtured beyond the responsibilities we carry for others.

The Waiting Room

Few rooms challenge our patience quite like the waiting room.

There is something particularly difficult about sensing that change is approaching while having no control over when it will arrive. We may have received encouragement, glimpsed possibilities or felt a renewed sense of direction, yet our circumstances appear unchanged.

Meanwhile, other people seem to be moving forward.

Their doors open. Their opportunities arrive. Their prayers appear to receive answers while we remain where we are.

Waiting can expose feelings we did not realise were present. Comparison begins to trouble our peace, impatience clouds our judgement, and the temptation to force something into existence becomes increasingly difficult to resist.

James 1:4 instructs us to "let patience have her perfect work."

Patience has a work to accomplish, although we may not immediately recognise its value.

Some doors require more than desire or readiness in our own estimation. There are matters of timing, responsibility and circumstances beyond what we can presently see.

We must be careful not to mistake delay for abandonment or allow impatience to lead us into places God has not directed us to enter.

The Wilderness Room

The wilderness can be a lonely place, particularly when the things that once gave us confidence begin to disappear.

Familiar support may no longer be available. Resources become limited, relationships change, and the certainty we once enjoyed gives way to questions we cannot easily answer.

It is often in these circumstances that we discover how much of our security depended upon what surrounded us.

The Israelites experienced God's provision in the wilderness, yet they also struggled with fear, dissatisfaction and the temptation to return to what was familiar. Freedom had brought them out of Egypt, but their thinking still needed to change.

We can experience something similar when God leads us beyond familiar territory. We may desire a new season while still longing for the security of the old one.

Not every hardship should be interpreted as a wilderness appointed by God. Circumstances require wisdom and discernment. Nevertheless, difficult places can reveal where our confidence rests and invite us into deeper dependence upon Him.

Sometimes we discover the strength of our faith only when the things we previously leaned upon are no longer there.

The Refining Room

The refining room confronts matters we might prefer to leave untouched.

It is possible to serve God sincerely while carrying motives, insecurities and attitudes that have not yet been fully examined.

We may believe we are content to remain unnoticed until someone else receives the recognition we hoped for. We may consider ourselves humble until correction challenges our pride. We may think comparison has lost its influence over us until another person's success awakens feelings we thought were gone.

These moments can be uncomfortable because they reveal something about our hearts.

Yet what is exposed can also be addressed.

The refining process invites us to examine not only what we are doing, but why we are doing it. Are we motivated by obedience or by the desire to be seen? Can we celebrate another person's advancement without questioning our own worth? Will we remain faithful when the outcome brings no personal recognition?

God's concern extends beyond our ability to fulfil an assignment. Our attitudes, intentions and treatment of others matter just as much as the work itself.

Greater influence can magnify weaknesses that were easier to conceal when our responsibilities were smaller.

There is mercy in being corrected before those weaknesses begin affecting the people entrusted to our care.

The Hidden Room

David spent years tending sheep before he stood before Goliath.

The fields were far removed from the attention of a royal court, yet his experiences there were anything but insignificant. He learned responsibility, courage and reliance upon God while carrying out work that others might have considered ordinary.

When David later faced Goliath, he could draw upon what he had experienced while protecting his father's flock.

His confidence had a history.

The hidden room reminds us that significance is not determined by visibility. A person may be faithfully serving, learning, sacrificing and growing without anyone recognising the depth of what is taking place.

This can be difficult in a world where achievement is so often measured by what others can see.

We may begin questioning whether our efforts matter because they have attracted little attention. Yet faithfulness does not become valuable only when someone acknowledges it.

God sees what others overlook.

And what appears ordinary today may be developing the very qualities we will need when greater responsibilities arrive.

The Healing Room

Perhaps one of the most easily overlooked places of preparation is the healing room.

We can become so accustomed to carrying pain that we no longer recognise how deeply it influences us.

We continue working, serving, raising families and fulfilling responsibilities. From the outside, everything may appear manageable, yet beneath that ability to function are wounds we have learned to work around rather than address.

Rejection may influence how we respond to correction. Betrayal can make trust difficult. Experiences of abandonment may cause us to cling to relationships or responsibilities long after they have become harmful.

Sometimes what appears to be strength is simply the ability to endure pain without speaking about it.

But endurance and healing are not the same.

When we carry unresolved wounds into positions of responsibility, they can affect our judgement, relationships and the way we respond to those who depend upon us.

The healing room invites us to confront what we have concealed, including the things we have convinced ourselves no longer matter.

Healing may come through prayer, Scripture, rest, honest conversations, wise pastoral guidance or professional support. There is no shame in recognising that restoration sometimes requires help.

Nor does healing mean that we must reach a state of perfection before God can use us.

It means becoming willing to acknowledge the places that still need His attention, rather than allowing our responsibilities to become a means of avoiding them.

The Small Room Before the Stage

When I return to the vision of the stage, the chairs and the microphone, I am struck by the contrast between what appeared impressive and what initially seemed insignificant.

My attention was naturally drawn to the larger setting. It suggested possibility, expansion and a future beyond what I could presently see.

Yet the small room carried a message I might easily have missed.

We can become so eager to reach the place we believe God is leading us that we begin to regard our present circumstances as obstacles rather than opportunities for growth.

We want the doors to open, the assignment to expand and the promises we have held onto to become visible. Meanwhile, the Holy Spirit may be addressing something within us that will matter far more than the size of the platform.

I do not believe these rooms must be experienced in a particular order. Some lessons overlap, while others return at different stages of our lives. We may find ourselves learning patience in one area while experiencing healing in another.

What matters is our willingness to recognise the work taking place.

Zechariah 4:10 asks, "For who hath despised the day of small things?"

There is something deeply challenging about that question.

How often do we overlook what God is doing because it does not resemble what we hoped to receive?

We may dismiss a small beginning because we have imagined something greater. We may grow frustrated with a season of preparation because we believe we should already have arrived.

But what if the place we are eager to leave contains something essential for the place we are longing to enter?

A microphone can amplify a voice, but it cannot give that voice wisdom. A stage can provide visibility, but it cannot produce integrity. An audience may recognise a gift without knowing the private journey that shaped the person carrying it.

That is why the small rooms matter.

I began this vision looking towards something grand, but the Holy Spirit drew my attention to something I might otherwise have passed by.

And perhaps that is the invitation for us all.

To recognise the value of what God is developing in us, even when our surroundings seem ordinary. To remain faithful in places where there is little recognition, and to resist the temptation to measure our progress solely by what has become visible.

The stage may come, and when it does, its responsibilities will require more than the desire to stand upon it.

Do not become so captivated by the stage that you overlook the small rooms preparing you to stand there.