LH Editor Amber Weigand-Buckley On The Line With Linda Goldfarb
As Linda Goldfarb Hits 70, She’s Telling All Her Girlfriends to Buckle Up— Because the Ride Is Just Beginning.
The signal kept cutting out. Linda Goldfarb was somewhere on a highway, her husband, Sam, at the wheel, rolling toward her next speaking event.
She was on the phone with me (Amber) —or trying to be. The connection flickered. Her voice broke up mid-sentence. And yet somehow, every single word that mattered came through clean.
That’s the thing about Linda. The static never touches what she’s actually saying.
The Curve Of Her Elbow = The Armchair Of Her Heart
You know those conversations where you just sink in?
Where the voice on the other end feels like a worn armchair and a fresh cup of something hot—and before you know it, you’ve stopped performing the interview and started actually living inside it? That’s what happened. I could almost smell the espresso. The good kind. Brewed slowly. The kind that makes you close your eyes before the first sip.
I don’t always take notes when I interview someone. This time I couldn’t stop. But they weren’t interview notes— questions answered, boxes checked. They were notes to myself. Where her answers were taking me. What her words were unlocking in my own chest.
“We can shut off our own momentum by declaring an end. And God says, ‘That’s not an end. It’s just a curve.'”
Seven Decades In, And She’s Not Leaving Her Towel In The Ring
Yes, she’s an author, a dynamic speaker, a podcaster, a narrator—a voice that has filled conference rooms and retreat centers across the country. Google the résumé. But that’s not what made me lean in.
What made me lean in was her presence. A heart full of Jesus and an infectious spirit that doesn’t perform—it just is. Talking to Linda felt like leaning into the curve of someone’s arm. The kind that says, I get you. And He’s got you. And these arms are just an extension of His.
“People keep telling me to relax,” she says. And you can hear she’s heard it a hundred times—and has absolutely no intention of doing it.
The Prayer She Didn’t Want To Pray
A couple of years ago, Linda boarded a plane for her first speaking gig of 2024, grabbed an audiobook—Beyond Jabez by Bruce Wilkinson—and somewhere between takeoff and landing, God asked her a question she didn’t want to answer.
“You pray for everyone. You fervently pray for others. What are you praying for yourself?”
“I was like, ‘Lord, you already know the desires of my heart,'” she tells me. “‘Whatever you want to do, I’m okay with it.'”
But He wouldn’t let her off the hook. So she did what any good, slightly stubborn woman of faith does—she decided she didn’t want to talk to Him for the rest of the flight. On the return flight, she gave in.
She told God what she actually wanted.
Keynotes. Retreats—real time with women, not just an hour and goodbye. She said the desires out loud instead of handing God a blank page and calling it surrender.
Three days later, a conference director slid into her DMs: Linda, would you come and keynote for us?
“That exploded,” she says. “Keynotes for 2025, 2026. Retreats. Audiobook contracts. He just opened the door. All because I released the bondage that I shouldn’t share the desires of my heart with Him.”
That Thing We Jesus Girls Do
Linda put her finger on something we don’t talk about enough.
“Sometimes as Christian women, we’re convinced it’s ego to bring our desires to God. That it’s selfish. We come with a servant heart and assume He’ll just take care of us.”
He does take care of us. But there’s a difference between being cared for and being invited in. God wasn’t just asking Linda to receive; He was asking her to participate. To stop leaving her own story blank while she filled in everyone else’s.
“We’re good at listening to somebody else’s story,” she says, “but we don’t walk into that possibility for ourselves. We think it’s a page written in somebody else’s history.”
I wrote that one down and underlined it TWICE.
Don’t Brake, Accelerate
Here’s the moment I put down my pen.
“When you’re in a race car going into a curve, you don’t coast,” Linda says. “You accelerate. Because that holds you firm on the road. If you don’t accelerate, you slide—you go where the curve wants to take you.”
Our instinct when life bends hard is to take our foot off the gas. To assume age or a difficult season means it’s time to coast. But coasting into a curve is a dangerous move. Moses was 80 when he stood before Pharaoh. Sarah was 90 when she held Isaac. Scripture is full of people who had no idea they were just getting started.
“We can shut off our own momentum by declaring an end,” Linda says. “And God says, ‘That’s not an end. It’s just a curve. I’ve got another plan around the corner.”
I Wrote This In All Caps (Maybe You Should Too)
“When I got to the end of myself, He said, ‘Let me show you—I’ve only just begun.’“
You might get there through a hailstorm. A broken arm. A season that knocked you sideways. The entry point is different for everyone. The invitation is the same.
Her closing words stayed with me long after the call dropped: “When we walk in the Spirit, it’s like breathing without effort. No striving. Just following. And every curve—enter it with anticipation of more.”
Not less. Not winding down. Not coasting toward a finish line you’ve already drawn in your head. More. The curve isn’t the end. It never was.
Lean in, friend. He’s only just begun.
To connect with Linda—her books, podcasts, or request her to speak at your event —go to lindagoldfarb.com. Follow her on socials @lindagoldfarb. Amber Weigand-Buckley is the founding editor of Leading Hearts magazine. shortyellowpencilRX.com
