The Domestic Monastery

Beth’s monologue before her death reflects a quiet acceptance of her fate, a deep contentment in the simple, loving life she has lived, and a recognition that she was never meant for the world in the way her sisters were. 

Similarly, my surrender to Christ led me to God’s vocation for me: embracing the call to transform the home into a domestic monastery…a place of prayer, service, and quiet devotion. 

Just as Beth found fulfillment in the small, unnoticed acts of love that shaped her family, so did I find holiness in the daily rhythms of homemaking, hospitality, and nurturing souls.

Seeking recognition had to die. What grew instead was delighting in the sacredness of the ordinary and trusting that faithfulness in hidden work mirrors the faithfulness of Christ Himself. I see Beth in me, the homemaker,  the handmaiden, the  surrendered woman who embodies a peace that comes not from worldly ambition but from a life fully yielded to love—whether that means quietly slipping into eternity or steadfastly tending a home for God’s glory.

Opus Dei – The Work of God

In August of 2017 I write in my prayer binder these words: 

“Abba, I belong to you. My house is the monastery.”

I longed for a lifestyle that reflected one wholly devoted to Christ. To imitate Him, seek Him, and live for Him without boundaries.

And why wouldn’t I want that?

Looking back, I see I was surrounded by women who modeled what it meant to walk with God. Not just on Sundays, but every day of the week.

My maternal and paternal grandmothers were the best of friends. My father’s mother, Missionary Flenory Bryant Simpson, was a pastor’s wife, and my mother’s mother, Sister Margaret Ryan, was a devoted woman of faith. They were traditional housewives who built their homes on the foundation of love, service, and an unwavering commitment to Christ.

There was prayer in the living room, singing in the parlor, and reverence for the holy in the everyday moments of life. Faith wasn’t something separate from our daily existence—it was woven into every meal shared, every hymn sung, and every lesson taught.  Even now, my grandmother Margaret’s Broadman Hymnal rests in my living room — its pages worn and dog-eared from years of use. I can still hear her singing: “Oh, how I love Jesus…”

Their example shaped not just my belief in God but my understanding of what it means to live a life surrendered to Him. 

As I grew older, I began to see how that same thread of devotion was being woven into my own story. The faith that filled their homes began to fill mine. What they modeled in the ordinary became the sacred rhythm of my adult life. But I did not get here alone. I had a mother who encouraged me, a pastor who affirmed me and gave me a safe place to fail, and mentors who gave me the freedom to try.

These experiences did more than inform me. They transformed me. They prepared me for ministry, for more than twenty years of worship leading, and for a life devoted to proclaiming the goodness of God. In every praise dance, every worship song, and every sermon I have preached, I carry the echoes of those early lessons. 

The Installation

 

I got married and a few short years later, my husband was installed as Pastor of the church I grew up in. Then I became a stay at home mother after baby number two. And that’s when life became truly sacred. When I said goodbye to my career as an account executive at a marketing agency, I said hello to full-time motherhood and ministry. I called my new vocation being God’s handmaiden.

To be a handmaiden of the Lord is to embrace the sacredness of everyday life. To live with such love, depth, and focus that there is no longing for “other” or “more”. I may not have taken monastic vows, but I brought the monastery into my home. I chose to see holiness in the daily duty, to make my ordinary life an altar. Instead of climbing man’s ladder, I had my sight set on one greater.

Growing In My New Role

Like Jacob, I wrestled with God in this season. My name, my role, my identity shifting under His hand. I was no longer just a wife, I was a pastor’s wife. No longer just a servant, I was now leading alongside my husband. I grasped hold of God until the woman I once knew was reshaped by His calling.

In those early years, I learned that surrender is not a one-time event but a daily offering. Like Isaac on Mt. Moriah, I yielded to the sacrifice—not out of weakness, but out of trust. Trust that God was shaping me, stretching me, preparing me. 

There were joys: the privilege of ministering, of walking with people through their deepest struggles and highest victories. There were challenges: learning to lead while still learning myself, balancing expectations, carrying unseen burdens. 

But through it all, I came to understand:

The dream I carried must never grow bigger than the God I serve.
The role I hold must never outshine the One who called me.

As the years passed, I learned to embrace the quiet sacrifices, to find joy in the hidden work of ministry, and to trust that in every season of surrender, there is always a ram in the bush.

Beholding His Glory

In 2014, My faith deepened and expanded.  That year, my church’s theme was Beholding His Glory, and I felt an undeniable call to do just that. But not in a distant, Mount Sinai kind of way. I longed for something more intimate, a John 1:14 experience:

“The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood. We saw the glory with our own eyes, the one-of-a-kind glory, like Father, like Son, generous inside and out, true from start to finish.”

I didn’t want to visit God’s presence. I wanted to dwell there.

Ann Voskamp’s One Thousand Gifts awakened me to the sacredness hidden in the everyday. Inspired, I committed to praying three times a day. I obtained an English Siddur and immersed myself in the beauty of Jewish prayers. I learned that deep spiritual transformation comes not just from learning but from meditating, internalizing—until truth is no longer an idea but a lived reality.

Facing Jerusalem, I felt connected to the ancient rhythms of faith, striving to be a modern-day Daniel. I became a student of prayer liturgy, fascinated by the mystics and sages who walked closely with God. Their readiness before God inspired me to go deeper, to seek not only knowledge but nearness.

A Monastic Heart in a Mother’s Life

This longing led me to the wisdom of monastic life. The saints of old became my teachers, their words drawing me into a deeper reverence for the sacred. St. Therese of Lisieux taught me humility, writing:

“Our Lord made me understand that the only true glory is that which lasts forever. To attain it, there is no need for brilliant deeds, but rather to hide from the eyes of others and even from oneself…”

I found the Christian equivalent of Jewish kavanah (an intentional turning of the heart toward God) in lectio divina, in silence, in stillness. Ernest Boyer Jr.’s A Way in the World: Family Life as a Spiritual Discipline became my guide. I was captivated by the idea of making my home a monastery: a place of order, prayer, hospitality, and learning. I embraced this calling, trying (and often failing) to keep the Divine Office, but reveling in the journey nonetheless.

By 2016, another child was born. I was now a mother of five, and our church had become a mobile ministry, moving from school gymnasium to school gymnasium in Bayview-Hunters Point, San Francisco. Life was full, chaotic, and deeply holy. I was beholding His glory. Not on a mountaintop, but in the rhythm of my days.

At every stage of my life, I have learned that a life surrendered is a life truly found. Like Mary, I have whispered, “Be it unto me according to Your word.” Like Isaac, I have laid down my dreams, trusting in God’s greater plan. Like the desert fathers, I have embraced solitude as sacred. And like the faithful women who shaped me, I have discovered that ministry is not confined to a pulpit or a platform. It is found in the home, in the community, in the simplest acts of love.

I write these words not as if my story is perfect, but as a testimony to God’s unwavering faithfulness. As my journey continues, I step forward with open hands and a surrendered heart, ready to love, serve, and reflect His glory in every ordinary moment of life.

Reflective Invitation

Take a few quiet moments this week to notice His presence in the ordinary. Share your reflections in the comments or write them in your journal.

A scripture to read: “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.” Colossians 3:23–24 (NIV)

A song to sing: Have Your Way In Me, Victor Thompson

A question to ask:  Where is God calling you to bring sacred rhythm into your daily life?

A prayer to pray: Lord, it’s so easy to feel stuck, silenced, or sheltered because of responsibilities at home. If my current season calls for me to be anchored to simplicity, show me  how to create a tabernacle of devotion for your glory. Teach me how to enjoy these moments with your creativity and care. Help me to see the opportunities in front of me to welcome your presence. I invite you into my life in a fresh and sacred way today. Amen.