I didn't have a personal relationship with Jesus or God until I was around thirty-five years old. By that point, my children were already ages twelve, eleven, and seven. Because I wasn't raised in the church, I felt I had personally failed my family in the Lord's eyes.

I distinctly remember the sheer panic that washed over me during that season. By the time I realized my ways of sharing God weren't working, my children had already labeled me as "obsessed with God." They didn't get it, and there was nothing I could do to fix it.

So, I turned to prayer. I told God I was so afraid for my children's future. I just wanted them to know the Lord the way I knew the Lord.

Seeing Him show up for me and solve every problem in my life made the planet light up. Every day had purpose, not to mention that I was seeing God move throughout our lives. All I wanted was for them to have the truth about this planet and not waste the first half of their life on things that didn't matter.

In that moment, it felt like a one-sided conversation. I finished talking to God, then went about my day as usual. But I soon learned that something had shifted inside of me.

The following week I didn't say a word about Jesus. I didn't point out anything I saw God doing. At first, I thought maybe I had finally given up. I didn't give it much thought; we were all too busy trying to get out the door for my son's football game.

As we were driving to the field, I felt the urgent need to pray for the safety of our son and his teammates. To make the prayer fun and get a laugh out of my son, I added, "And Lord, if you could help us sack the quarterback, that would just be awesome!" In Jesus' name we pray, Amen.

Now, to make a long story short. The team had an amazing game. And our son personally sacked the quarterback not once but twice in the first half. I was so excited because God showed up and showed out. I couldn't wait to say, "See, I told you God was real." 

As we said our goodbyes to the team, I felt God poking at me. As I tuned in to understand what was happening, I realized God was telling me not to say a word about Him answering that prayer. Confused and baffled, I agreed not to say a word.

We got in the car, and everyone was celebrating over how awesome the game was. I sat in the front, slightly irritated about having to keep my mouth shut about the prayer. I thought maybe God wanted me to wait a few minutes before mentioning it.

Then the most amazing thing happened. As they were celebrating the win, Cam shouted out, "Yeah, and your mom prayed those prayers!" Then, my son screamed from the backseat, "Jesus ain't no joke!"

My eyes got wide with excitement. I couldn't believe it; God was being acknowledged, and I didn't have to be the one who pointed Him out.

I could feel God saying, "See, give people time to process."

If God hadn't told me to keep quiet, I would have ruined another moment for Him and my family. I learned something valuable that day. It's not my job to prove God's existence. The correct approach was to celebrate first as a family, then give all the glory to God in the end.

It's not about proving God to people. It's walking by example, pray without ceasing, then allowing God to move. Enjoying the moment as a family, while ultimately giving God the glory in the end.