God in the Ordinary: Valentina’s Story

Written by Valentina Smith, Missions Intern 

Faith wasn’t unfamiliar to me growing up, but it wasn’t yet personal. I was raised in a Colombian home in Canada, where prayer, church, and tradition were part of everyday life. I knew the rhythms of faith. How to participate, how to recite, how to belong, but I didn’t yet know Jesus as someone close. I respected faith, but I hadn’t experienced relationship. 

That changed when I was twelve years old at Camp Chamisall. I arrived curious but unsure, unaware that those few days would become a defining turning point in my life. What I witnessed there was something I had never seen before: kids my age being honest about their struggles, asking real questions about God, and sharing their doubts without fear. In that vulnerability, I felt the presence of Jesus in a way that felt real and undeniable.  

It was there that I chose to receive Him, not because it was expected of me, not because it was routine, but because for the first time I truly understood His love and His invitation.  

Since then, my walk with God has been exactly that, a walk. Not a straight line, not a flawless journey, but a constant shaping. My faith has slowly become the foundation of who I am, influencing how I love, how I serve, and how I understand my calling. 

Now, I am in my fifth year of Intercultural Ministry, completing my Bachelor of Theology at Ambrose University. This season, I have had the privilege of serving as an intern on the Missions and Outreach team at First Alliance Church. It has been one of the most transformative experiences of my life. I have been stretched, challenged, grounded, and reminded again and again that God provides, especially in the moments when I feel unprepared, unsure, or unseen. 

When I read Luke 2:1–20, I am struck by the humility of God’s provision. There was no guest room available, no ideal setting, no comfort or convenience, and yet Jesus arrived. Not in glory, but in straw. Not in luxury, but in love. The manger became a place of divine care, even though it was nothing like anyone would have planned. It wasn’t what people expected, but it was exactly what God chose. 

I have experienced this kind of provision in ministry as well. When I first joined the Missions team, I genuinely didn’t believe I had what it took. I loved serving and listening, but I didn’t see myself as someone capable of making real impact.

Yet over time, God has shown me that availability matters far more than ability. I have watched Him work through simple conversations, small tasks, and unexpected encounters. Moments that seemed insignificant to me but meaningful to someone else. His care doesn’t always look like abundance or certainty; often, it simply looks like presence. 

This internship has been a lesson in seeing. For a long time, I thought serving meant going far, doing big things, or leaving home behind. And while some people are called to that, God has been teaching me that care begins right where you stand. 

Serving starts in your own neighbourhood, your workplace, your classroom, your church hallway, even your grocery aisle.

It grows in the unseen places, on the days when no one applauds and no one notices. Sometimes serving is as simple as paying attention: noticing someone’s silence, someone’s tears, someone’s exhaustion, noticing the way a person seems to fold into themselves because life has been too heavy. 

Have you ever thought about being the light on your own street? 

Do you know your neighbours’ names? Do you pause long enough to talk, to listen, to care? Or do we rush from our cars to our front doors, convinced that our schedules define us? We never truly know what someone is carrying. How many people do we walk past each day assuming they’re fine because they smile? 

The manger teaches us something profound: God enters the ordinary. He chooses small spaces, simple rooms, and imperfect conditions. And that is where His glory rests.

As I continue this internship, one of the greatest privileges has been interviewing staff and hearing their stories. No two journeys are alike. Each path carries unexpected turns, quiet obedience, and evidence of God’s faithfulness. Hearing their experiences has encouraged me deeply, especially because I still don’t know my exact ministry calling. I don’t always know my gifts or how God plans to use them. But I trust that none of this learning, none of this serving, and none of this wrestling has been wasted. 

This season has taught me to surrender my path to Jesus. Not because I have no direction, but because He knows the way better than I do. I am learning that calling is less about certainty and more about closeness. It is less about titles and more about compassion. And even when the path isn’t clear, God lights it, sometimes only one step at a time. 

Here’s what I know for sure: my heart comes alive when I’m serving others. I’m drawn to the margins, to the stories that need dignity restored, to the relationships that take time and presence. God keeps softening my heart to reflect His own, and if this is the direction He is guiding me, I’ll walk it with trust. 

Just like the manger, unlikely, humble, and overlooked, God often uses the quiet places to reveal His deepest love. 

May we learn to see Him there. 

May we learn to trust Him there.

And may we learn to serve from there.