Two Years Later: The Humbling I Did Not See Coming

What leaving a 30-year career taught me about surrender, identity, and God’s provision.

“Is this really God calling me — or am I just restless?”

That was the question I could not shake two years ago as I walked through my final days at Nationwide after 30 years.

I had peace. I had confirmation. But I still did not fully understand what I was stepping into.

What followed became the most disorienting and clarifying season of my professional life.

Not because the path was smooth.

Because it was not — and God was faithful anyway.

Two years later, this is what I know now.

I Thought I Understood the Transition

I did not leave without direction.

I knew the kind of work I wanted to do. I knew the experiences I was bringing with me. Thirty years of institutional finance had shaped how I think -- asset-liability management, risk frameworks, capital allocation, long-term stewardship.

I knew how to navigate complexity. I knew how to make decisions under pressure. I knew how to lead in environments where the stakes were high.

I assumed those disciplines would transfer cleanly.

In some ways, they did.

But I underestimated how much of my confidence had been built not just on competence, but on familiarity.

For 30 years, I knew the terrain.

Then suddenly, I did not.

At times, the experience felt strangely similar to the old Bon Jovi song “Livin’ on a Prayer.”

Not glamorous. Not cinematic.

Just waking up each day trying to stay faithful while trusting God with outcomes I could not yet see.

The Humbling I Did Not See Coming

I expected one transition.

Instead, I lived through two jobs in two years.

I stepped into environments that operated leaner and required skills I had never needed before.

At one point, I climbed into an attic trying to trace the source of a water leak.

Another week, I was helping respond to a website attack.

I built systems from scratch in areas where there was no existing playbook and no large supporting infrastructure behind the scenes.

For most of my career, I was the expert in the room. I could read a balance sheet, stress-test a portfolio, and present to senior leadership with confidence.

None of that helped me in the attic.

That was the humbling.

Not losing competence.

Losing familiarity.

There is a specific kind of difficulty that comes from realizing you no longer know what you do not know.

At Nationwide, I had decades of pattern recognition. I understood where risks tended to emerge and how systems behaved under pressure.

Stepping into ministry and values-aligned work required becoming a beginner again.

And doing that at this stage of life was harder than I expected.

Most people spend their later career years deepening expertise.

I was rebuilding mine.

What Surrender Actually Means

There is a word leadership circles do not use very often.

Surrender.

Not passivity. Not disengagement. Not a lack of effort.

Surrender is releasing your grip on the outcome while continuing to walk forward in obedience.

I understood that concept intellectually long before I lived it practically.

These last two years forced me to live it.

Recently, our team faced a web attack — a problem I had no experience managing and no roadmap for solving.

What struck me afterward was not just that we got through it.

It was realizing that God had already provided the people, tools, and knowledge we needed before the attack ever happened.

The provision was already in place before I understood the need.

I have seen that pattern repeatedly over the last two years.

Resources appearing before the problem became visible.

People entering my path before I understood why.

Opportunities opening that I never would have planned for myself.

None of it was accidental.

And none of it would have happened if I had held too tightly to my original plan.

That is what surrender has meant for me.

Not abandoning responsibility.

Trusting that God is already at work beyond what I can currently see.

Paul said it better than I can:

I spent 30 years building competence.

These last two years taught me that God’s power is often revealed most clearly at the edge of my own limits.

What I Never Could Have Planned

Here is what I did not see coming.

A trip to the Dominican Republic to visit a coffee shop run by Christian entrepreneurs.

Using institutional capital allocation frameworks to evaluate small businesses in developing communities.

Launching faithprompt.ai to help faith leaders navigate AI wisely and practically.

Building AlignmentGap.com after realizing how many leaders feel the tension between the values they profess and the decisions they actually make.

None of those ideas existed in my mind the day I announced I was leaving Nationwide.

But looking back now, I can see that God was already preparing the path long before I recognized it.

That may be one of the biggest lessons of this season.

God wastes nothing.

Not the 30 years.

Not the transition.

Not even the confusion.

What I Know Now

God is faithful in unfamiliar places.

Not just in the places where you feel strong.

Not just where you feel prepared.

In the places where you feel exposed, inexperienced, and dependent.

The peace I felt two years ago was never the peace of knowing exactly what came next.

It was the peace of knowing who held what came next.

That distinction matters more to me now than it did then.

Because I have lived it.

Not as a theory.

As a daily reality.

To the Person Standing at the Edge

If you are where I was two years ago — sensing a call, wrestling with uncertainty, wondering whether the peace you feel is real or whether you are simply restless —

I want to tell you something I wish someone had told me.

The transition will probably cost more than you think.

The humbling is real.

The uncertainty is real.

The moments where you wonder whether you made the right decision are real too.

But so is the faithfulness of God.

And often, the greatest blessings are not found beyond the hard season.

They are formed through it.

Two years later, I believe that verse more deeply than I ever have before.

Not because the path was easy.

Because it was not — and God was faithful anyway.

I do not fully know what the next two years will hold.

But I know this now in a way I did not before:

God is faithful in unfamiliar places.

And that changes how you walk into the future.

Scott Kline is Executive Director of Strategy, Finance & Technology at Grace Polaris Church. He writes on stewardship, leadership, and vocational alignment at DeepRootedBelievers.com. Connect at ScottKline.com.