Becoming An Ascendant

My journey into wealth stewardship began in a very unexpected way.

On my twenty-first birthday, I sat across from my parents at breakfast near my college campus and learned they had been building an investment portfolio for me since the day I was born. What began as a simple celebration became one of the most formative conversations of my life.

The portfolio had been carefully shaped by my dad, a gifted investor, and on that day, it officially transferred into my ownership. Years earlier, my parents had hinted that something financial was coming to me, but never the scale of it. When they told me it was millions, I felt shocked and amazed. I didn’t know how to process it in the moment.

And then my dad said something I’ll never forget: “We’re giving this to you because we believe in you, and we want you to pursue your dreams."

There were no ultimatums. No fear-based lectures. No pressure to become a certain type of person overnight. Instead, they invited me into responsibility, stewardship, and opportunity with remarkable openness and warmth.

Granted, there were also difficult emotions that surfaced over time: overwhelm, fear, social awkwardness, and uncertainty about what this meant for my future. In many ways, everything and nothing changed at once. I was still the same college student walking to class, seeing friends, and trying to figure out adulthood. But internally, I suddenly felt the weight of unusual responsibility sitting on my shoulders.

Looking back now, I realize that birthday conversation was not just about wealth transfer. It was about being deeply believed in while also being entrusted with something weighty.

Growing up, my family talked about finance long before we talked specifically about inheritance. My dad often framed investing not simply as a way to make more money, but as a way to create more life—more opportunity, growth, joy, and flourishing. My mom consistently emphasized generosity, gratitude, and faith. Even as a child, I understood that money was never supposed to become the center of our identity.

That foundation mattered far more than I realized at the time.

When wealth eventually became personally tangible for me, it brought not only freedom but also a massive amount of options. While many of my peers graduating from college focused primarily on finding a job, I found myself wrestling with deeper questions about purpose, calling, and responsibility. I experienced both profound gratitude and deep overwhelm.

One of the hardest parts of the experience was how isolated I felt. From the outside, people often assume wealth removes struggle. In reality, I found myself worrying about whether people would see me differently if they knew about my financial circumstances and how to remain wholly myself while carrying something that set me apart from many of my peers.

At the same time, I also began to recognize the extraordinary opportunity embedded within the responsibility. The inheritance gave me space to ask deeper questions about vocation, generosity, and faith much earlier in life than many people are able to, including how to reconcile my faith with being wealthy.

An act that began as a discipline turned into a journey of unexpected joy. Experiences of generosity followed, filling me with awe and a deep sense of being used by God.

One major inflection point came when I felt called to “tithe” a significant portion of my inheritance shortly after college. One of my pastors during that season shared a biblical idea that deeply resonated with me: you don’t just tithe what you make, you also tithe what you are given. Out of a sense of obedience, I began writing checks to ministries, organizations, mentors, and individuals who had profoundly shaped my life and faith journey.

What followed became one of the most meaningful seasons of my life. An act that began as a discipline turned into a journey of unexpected joy. Experiences of generosity followed, filling me with awe and a deep sense of being used by God. I still remember one ministry leader telling me directly that my gift had “saved their ministry” during an especially difficult season. Moments like that marked me.

Over time, generosity stopped feeling like merely something I did and became woven into who I was becoming. I often joke that I became a “professional cheerleader” for people, ministries, and meaningful causes. Supporting others has stretched my discernment, deepened my faith, and brought immense fulfillment.

As a young woman, there was another layer to this journey as well. I often found myself navigating environments where conversations around investing, wealth, and financial leadership were still predominantly male. At times, I questioned whether I fully belonged in those conversations and how I was meant to carry the responsibility I had been given.

Over time, however, I began to realize that women often steward wealth in deeply relational and generational ways. We often instinctively ask how resources impact people, families, emotional well-being, and community—not merely outcomes on paper. I’ve found that women can bring tremendous relational wisdom, empathy, and long-term vision into stewardship conversations.

With that, and with hindsight, what has helped me most over the last decade is not financial strategy alone. It has been intentional conversations.

• Conversations with pastors about biblical generosity.

• Conversations with mentors about purpose.

• Conversations with trusted friends about identity and belonging.

• Conversations with God about who I was becoming beneath the surface of financial decision-making.

Those conversations shaped me far more than financial planning alone ever could. More than anything, they reminded me that stewardship is ultimately relational—with God and with people.

I’ve also realized that many families prepare heirs technically but not emotionally. We teach investment structures, tax strategy, and philanthropy, all of which matter greatly. But many rising-generation adults are also quietly carrying anxiety, pressure, fear of failure, confusion about purpose, or even shame around having more than others.

In fact, I believe one of the greatest gifts families and communities can offer the next generation is permission to talk honestly about the emotional and spiritual dimensions of wealth. Out of a desire to create more space for those conversations, I also began creating media content exploring these themes. My friend Parker Samelson and I started a podcast called Ascendants and later wrote a book called Becoming Ascendants in hopes of encouraging others navigating similar journeys.

As an ascendant myself, I am still discerning what faithful stewardship looks like in real time.

But one lesson stands out clearly:

The most important inheritance we pass down is not financial capital alone. It is the conversations, values, faith, and sense of purpose that teach the next generation how to carry wealth, calling, and responsibility well.

This article was published in our Faithful Steward magazine, a quarterly publication filled with encouraging stories, biblical teaching, and practical tools to help you grow as a wise and joyful giver. If you'd like to begin receiving Faithful Steward, consider becoming a FaithFi partner.