The Mantle

Wear That Mantle of Confidence

There are quiet moments in life that change everything—moments that nudge us to grow, see differently, and become more than we ever imagined. I’ve found that, more often than not, others saw something in me long before I had the courage to see it in myself.

When I think of a mantle, I don’t just picture fabric draped over shoulders. I see a symbol of identity and value—like a royal garment placed on a king or queen, declaring, this is who you are. But learning to accept and wear that mantle? That’s the real journey.

The story I’m about to share marked a turning point in how I saw myself—and how I understood the power of stepping into one’s calling with boldness and grace.

In 2011, my husband and I were leading a local church. I wore many hats behind the scenes—organizing, coordinating, filling in where needed. Leadership didn’t quite know what to call me, and I didn’t mind. Titles didn’t mean much to me at the time. Eventually, they gave me a catch-all name: Event Director.

Then came the 9/11 tragedy. Shortly after, I attended a massive prayer gathering at a large arena. At one point, the emcee asked all pastors to stand so he could pray over them. Naturally, my husband stood as the lead pastor. I stayed seated—because in my mind, I wasn’t a pastor.

The next day, a good friend named Steve called our office. I picked up the phone, and he immediately asked, “Michele, why didn’t you stand last night when they asked pastors to rise?”

“I’m not a pastor,” I replied.

He didn’t hesitate: “Well, if you talk like a duck and walk like a duck, you are a duck. I wanted you to stand as my pastor.”

I laughed nervously. “Steve, I don’t like that title—it scares me. I’m not that important!”

Then came his words—stern, clear, and unforgettable:

“Michele, if God has given you that mantle, you must take it and wear it.”

And with that, he hung up.

I sat in silence, stunned by the weight of his words. I had never dared call myself a pastor before. The title felt too big, too sacred. I didn’t think I measured up.

Later that afternoon, I turned on the TV to unwind. The Oprah Winfrey Show happened to be on. Oprah was interviewing comedian Jim Carrey. A few minutes in, she asked him, “Jim, what made you decide to become a comedian?”

The camera zoomed in until his face filled the screen. With unwavering conviction, Jim looked into the lens—as if staring directly at me—and said:

“Well, if God has given you that mantle, you must take it and wear it.”

Time stopped.

Those were the exact words Steve had spoken to me hours before.

In that moment, I knew: this wasn’t coincidence. It was confirmation. God was speaking to me—through my friend, through a television screen, through the echoes of truth I could no longer deny.

Tears came—not from fear, but from the overwhelming feeling of being seen, known, and called. Something shifted inside me that day. I began to believe I was worthy. I began to step into who I really was.

I told my husband what happened. He shared it with the church leadership, and from that point forward, I was called Pastor Michele.

To this day, I don’t chase titles—and never will. Because this moment was never about a title. It was about claiming my identity, my voice, and my purpose.

And maybe this speaks to you, too.

Sometimes, the names we’re given—leader, healer, overcomer, world-changer—help us see ourselves more clearly. They reflect our worth before we can fully grasp it. Words carry weight. When spoken with love and truth, they can break chains, heal wounds, and awaken purpose.

So, let me ask you:

What identity words are you learning to embrace for yourself? What mantle have you been resisting?

You are so much more than your fear, your past, or your uncertainty.

Let me begin by calling you this: Beloved.

Now go ahead—take that mantle, and wear it.