By Thandolwethu Ntshebe

For readers who see my name on every issue of YuKanFaith but may not know my story, the simplest way to describe who I am beyond the editor title is this: I am a writer, a creative, and someone who says yes before knowing how.
I am not afraid to jump in feet first. I say yes, and then I figure it out later.
Curiosity sits at the centre of who I am. I want to know everything about everything: people, ideas, stories, conversations overheard in passing. I can spend hours researching a single thought that catches my attention. Sometimes that curiosity makes me sound like a gossip or a know it all, but in truth, it’s what makes me a storyteller. I am always looking for stories, around me, in others, and in my own mind. If I’m not writing, I’m reading. If I’m not reading, I’m telling stories. That is where I feel most alive.

How I Became the Editor
I didn’t step into YuKanFaith during a season of strength. I stepped into it during one of the hardest seasons of my life.
When Bishop Dr. Loretta Sanders invited me to help with what was originally meant to be a simple newsletter, I had just come out of two hospital stays, eight days in May and another eight in June. I was unwell, exhausted, and unsure of my professional future. My school was frustrated. I had missed too much work. By June, I wasn’t even receiving a full salary. I was scared.
Bishop’s invitation wasn’t just about content. It was about survival, skill-building, and dignity. She wanted me to earn an income, but more than that, she wanted me to develop a skill set that could sustain me beyond the classroom.
We started with what was supposed to be a three-page newsletter. It quickly became six pages. The next issue grew again. What was meant to be a simple project kept expanding, until we found ourselves staring at a 40-plus-page document on Canva, completely overwhelmed by formatting limitations.
That was the moment Bishop said, “We need different software.”
I had no graphic design background. No publishing experience. No formal training in layout or magazine production. But I said yes anyway. I bought Adobe InDesign, opened YouTube, and taught myself how to use it. Every new request followed the same pattern: Bishop would ask if something could be done, I’d say yes, and then I’d go straight to Google to figure out how.
What emerged in December was a 50-page magazine, born from what was once a four-page newsletter. When I look at that first issue now, I feel two things at once: pride and discomfort. Pride in what we created. Discomfort because all I see are the things I’d fix now.
That tension, between creation and critique, is one of the hardest parts of being a creative.
Every finished work immediately becomes a roadmap for improvement. It’s both a gift and a burden.

Life Behind the Scenes
In the early days of YuKanFaith, everything required outreach. Finding contributors meant sending emails, posting calls for stories, and my least favourite sliding into DMs.
I hate asking for things. I hate appearing needy. And online outreach felt awkward and exposed. In real life, I’m confident. I’ll talk to anyone. But behind a screen, I hesitate. Still, I learned to swallow my pride, send the messages, and trust that the right people would respond.
Over time, our process evolved. We moved from written submissions to recorded interviews. I began recording audio and video, transcribing conversations, and shaping articles from people’s spoken testimonies. Listening became the heart of my work.
Design was never my passion. I can do it, but it drains me. Handing that responsibility over to others was a turning point, not because I couldn’t do it, but because I didn’t have to. Letting go made the work sustainable.
Today, behind the scenes looks like emails, phone calls, texts, reading, writing and interviews. Interviews are my favourite part. They give me permission to be curious, to ask questions, to listen deeply. I get to be “nosy” with consent, and I don’t take that lightly. In those conversations, I’m often ministered to in ways I never expected finding comfort, healing, and confirmation simply by listening to others share their stories.

Choosing the Stories
In a faith-based space, our criteria is simple:
Are you a Bible-believing Christian living your faith openly and bravely? That’s it.
We are disciples. We believe in Jesus. And we look for people doing the same not perfectly, but honestly. We amplify stories of ordinary obedience, quiet faith, and lived testimony.

The Stories That Stayed With Me
Some conversations linger long after publication.
Keir Hopkins Jr. stands out. He was the first person I interviewed who held nothing back, who shared the gritty, uncomfortable parts of his past with complete honesty. At the time, I needed to hear that kind of testimony. His vulnerability reminded me that redemption stories don’t have to be polished to be powerful.
The Father’s Day issue remains one of my favourites. Sitting with men as they spoke about loving Jesus, loving their wives, and loving their children moved me deeply. We don’t see enough of that portrayed publicly, and those conversations brought me to tears more than once.
Many stories have done that, held up mirrors I wasn’t ready for, confronted parts of my own story I hadn’t fully processed. In many ways, the magazine ministered to me as much as I hope it ministers to readers.

Growth, Limits, and Learning to Ask for Help
This role has revealed many things about me, including that I am a control freak.
I want to do everything myself. I push through exhaustion. I drown quietly rather than ask for help. For a long time, that’s how I worked, running on fumes, not sleeping, redoing layouts endlessly because they didn’t feel right, carrying stress without realising how heavy it had become.
Learning to ask for help has been one of the greatest growth areas of this season. Working with Bishop, who is patient, understanding, and generous, forced me to confront my limits. When I left for the summer and others stepped in, I struggled emotionally at first. But in hindsight, it saved me.
I had been carrying the magazine in a way that was not sustainable. Letting go didn’t diminish my role, it preserved it.

Faith in the Process

Very few YuKanFaith issues have gone out exactly on time. There are always moving parts. Always something unexpected.

That reality has deepened my understanding of faith and community. Every issue reminds me that we are many parts of one body. Every person matters. If one part is missing, the whole thing feels it.

This work has stretched my prayer life, my patience, and my trust in God’s timing. It has made me a better writer, a better listener, and a more obedient servant.

New Year, New Me
As the new year begins, I’m evolving.
Creatively, I’m writing more and working toward finishing my book. Professionally, I’m embracing this season as a training ground, editing, curating, and working with more people and platforms. Personally, I’m learning what to hold onto and what to release.
Spiritually, I’m learning to rely on God more fully not just in big decisions, but in the everyday details. That’s where I know I often miss Him, and God is in the details. God is in the everyday, the mundane. In every minute and I need to keep finding Him in those small moments.
What excites me most about the future of YuKanFaith is simple: what comes next. The stories we haven’t told yet. The voices still waiting to be heard. The ways God will show up in other people’s lives.
To the YuKanFaith community readers, writers, and supporters, my message is this: thank you. Thank you for trusting us with your stories. Thank you for reading them. Thank you for sharing them. Thank you for taking a chance on us.
I can’t wait to see what happens next.

Nov/Dec 2025: Thandolwethu Ntshebe