Written by Abigail Johnson
There is a song I recently heard that compares Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane while the disciples slept to a mother faithfully caring for her child in the middle of the night while the rest of the world sleeps. As a new mom to a six-week-old baby, that comparison has stayed with me.
In these early weeks of motherhood, I have spent countless hours awake in the dark—feeding, rocking, soothing, and praying over my son (let’s be real, probably more frustration and tears than prayers.) At first, adrenaline carried me through. But as the weeks have passed, the sleep deprivation has begun to settle in. The novelty has worn off, and the reality of sacrifice has become more apparent.
If I’m honest, these moments do not always feel sacred. They often feel exhausting. They feel repetitive. Sometimes they feel lonely. And yet, I am learning that the most sacred acts of obedience often don’t feel extraordinary while we are living them.
In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus surrendered Himself to the will of the Father. While history was being shaped through His obedience, the disciples slept nearby. No crowds were cheering Him on. No one was celebrating His faithfulness in that moment. It was a hidden act of surrender. Yet it was through that surrender that redemption would come.
As I have reflected on this passage, I have realized how often we associate significance with visibility. We assume that the most important work is the work that is noticed, celebrated, or publicly recognized. But throughout Scripture, God seems to do some of His greatest work in hidden places.
Before there was resurrection, there was surrender. Before there was victory, there was obedience. Before there was fruit, there were unseen roots growing beneath the surface.
Motherhood has become a daily reminder of this truth. There is very little applause for the middle-of-the-night feedings. No one sees the whispered prayers spoken over a sleeping baby. No one notices the countless small acts of service that make up a mother’s day.
Yet God sees them all.
And I am beginning to understand that fulfillment does not always come from feeling accomplished. Sometimes it comes through surrender. Sometimes joy is found not in what we receive, but in what we willingly lay down for the sake of another. Because even if these hidden moments were celebrated by the world, the real question would still remain: Was my heart pleasing to the Lord? When I recognize these ordinary acts of service as worship, I am no longer simply enduring sacrifice—I am joining my Savior in it and discovering the joy that is found in faithful surrender.
As I think about this, I am reminded of the women in our seamstress apprenticeship program in Togo. When we share photos and stories from the program, it is easy to focus on the visible moments—the smiles, the sewing machines, the finished garments, and the milestones achieved. But behind every photo is a story of unseen sacrifice.
There are long walks in the summer heat. There are days when learning a new skill feels frustrating and slow. There is the humility required to be taught. There is the discipline of showing up day after day, even when progress seems small. There is the courage to believe that today’s sacrifice can create a different future for tomorrow. And so much more we may never know.
Many of these women are driven by a desire familiar to mothers everywhere: they want to build a better future for their children. They are willing to endure discomfort today because they believe it can change the trajectory of generations to come. That kind of sacrifice rarely makes headlines. But it matters.
In many ways, the journey of these apprentices mirrors the journey of motherhood. Both involve investing in something that cannot yet be fully seen. Both require faithfulness in ordinary moments. Both demand perseverance when the results feel far away. And both remind us that God’s Kingdom is often built through hidden acts of obedience.
A mother rocking her baby at 3 a.m. A woman walking to her apprenticeship class in the heat of Togo. A seamstress patiently teaching and discipling her students. A supporter faithfully giving each month to make these opportunities possible.
None of these moments may seem remarkable on their own. Yet God delights in using ordinary acts of faithfulness to accomplish extraordinary purposes.
This summer, perhaps God is inviting us to look differently at the hidden places in our lives. The moments that feel unnoticed. The sacrifices that feel costly. The work that feels slow. Because those may be the very places where He is doing His deepest work.
As I rock my son in the quiet hours of the night, I am learning that faithfulness is not always flashy. More often, it looks like showing up when you’re tired, surrendering when it’s costly, and trusting God when the fruit is not yet visible.
Whether you are raising children, learning a new skill, serving your community, or supporting the work of ministry from afar, know this: God sees every act of obedience offered to Him. The hidden places are not wasted places. They are often where eternal things begin to grow.
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