Hey there, friends. How many times have you heard that classic line? What do you want to be when you grow up? Or its close cousins: What do you want to do with your life? Who do you choose to be? If you’re anything like me, you’ve been hit with these questions since you could barely tie your shoes. And if you’re honest, they’ve probably kept you up at night, staring at the ceiling, wrestling with answers that never quite feel solid enough.
I know I have. For years, I’d mull it over, chasing some perfect response that would make everything click. But every time, I’d come up short—defeated, like I’d failed some invisible test. The one thing that kept bubbling up, though, the one concrete thread through all the uncertainty? I want to help people. It’s that simple, and that stubborn. And here’s why: I’ve felt the weight of love poured into my own life—unearned, overflowing, straight from God—and it lit a fire in me to pass it on. To show up for others when they need it most, to be the kind of help that says, “You’re not alone in this.”
Back when I was younger and a whole lot more idealistic, I thought I had it figured out. I spent four years as a music/youth pastor, waving my arms like a mad conductor during worship services and hanging out with teenagers who were navigating the chaos of growing up. I figured that was my lane for helping—guiding folks in the church, pointing them toward something bigger. And don’t get me wrong, that’s noble work. There are people wired for it, called to mentor kids or lead choirs with a passion that lights up rooms. But for me? It started to fray at the edges.
I found myself frustrated, grinding through the routines without the joy that should come with it. The final straw hit when the pastor pulled me aside and said I’d lost the confidence of the deacons. I could quit or be fired. Ouch. That stung deep, and for years, shame wrapped around it like a vine. I beat myself up, wondering if I’d blown my one shot at making a difference. Admitting it wasn’t for me felt like defeat all over again. But looking back? That was the pivot point. It forced me to dig deeper: What does “helping people” really mean? What does caring for them look like when the spotlight’s off?
Here’s a truth that’s reshaped everything for me: Every job—heck, every moment—holds a chance to serve. I love the story comedian Michael Jr. shares about chatting with an auto mechanic during a show. Michael ribs the guy a bit, saying, “Man, fixing cars all day? That must make you leap out of bed every morning.” But the mechanic? He lights up and fires back: “Every single day, I wake up knowing I get to help people reach their destinations—making sure their rides don’t leave them stranded.” Boom. That’s service in grease-stained glory. Tangible, real-world care that keeps lives moving.
And that? That’s the pivot we all need. It flips the script on our everyday grind. In my day job now, “helping” isn’t some grand gesture—it’s picking up the slack so a teammate can breathe easier. It’s stepping up to lead when positive change is needed, sharing the know-how to make things smoother. Or just listening, helping someone see their own blind spots or find words for what they’ve been holding back. It’s not tied to a title or a paycheck; it’s woven into how we show up.
Mother Teresa once said it perfectly: “If you can’t feed a hundred people, then feed just one.” And let’s not forget what Frederick Buechner wrote: “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” Spot on, right? Helping isn’t a job—it’s a way of life. A daily choice to love people right where they are, mess and all.
So, circling back to that nagging question: What do I want to be when I grow up? Here’s my answer now, clearer than ever—I want to be a follower of Christ. Someone who loves fiercely, who serves without a scorecard. The vocation? That’s just the vehicle. Sure, I chase work that plays to my strengths, stuff that sparks my curiosity and pays the bills. But there’s a world of difference between what you do and how you do it. Nail the “how”—root it in love and service—and suddenly, the “what” stops feeling like a cage.
If we could bottle that and pass it around, imagine the freedom. You could tinker with careers, pivot without panic, make a living in a dozen ways. But without that foundation? Even the dream gig turns hollow. True happiness? It blooms when who you are lines up with what you give.
Just some late-night musings from me to you. What’s stirring in your world? What did you dream of being as a kid? Where’s your journey taken you so far, and what golden lessons have you picked up along the way? I’d love to hear your story—drop it in the comments, shoot me a note. Let’s swap tales and keep the conversation going. Catch you tomorrow.
David Willis 