Believing

Topsy-Turvy

Believing

Hello Friends,

As you can imagine, Jeff and I have been having many conversations about employment.  Often some new job posting that has caught Jeff’s attention prompts these discussions.  He spots a listing, shares it aloud with me, and we begin our journey down the conversational road of job-talk. Typically these talks happen in fits and spurts between diaper changes, pacifier searches and reminders to our five year old, Bella, that the words “excuse me” don’t justify interrupting us every 30 seconds.  I’m beginning to think that the neighborhood bar might be the best venue for these talks.  A round of tequila shots could do us all some good.  Certainly it would take the edge off of Bella’s tenacity and maybe the baby would sleep through the night.

The job-thing is loaded.  It’s difficult because it brings to the surface so much more than the quest for employment. It pokes that deeper part in us that wants to understand the meaning of our existence and have the answer be something of great significance.  This is why a simple job search has the power to throw me into a fast cycling Bi-polar episode.  It goes something like this:  I see a promising job posting.  I begin to feel a small morsel of hope.  I read on.  It’s starting to look pretty good and my heart beats a little faster.  I read on. I try to envision what life in this job might be like and become convinced life would be perfect.   The job is even in an ideal location—I’ve never lived there, or even visited, but I’m sure.  I read on.  Things are looking good, very good; maybe I’ve found the winner!  I read on.  Uh-oh, what’s this? Qualifications.  I start feeling nauseas.  The manic edge is beginning to take a dip.  Just hold on and keep reading, I think to myself.  I spot something about organizational strength. Oh crap, organization isn’t my strong suit.  In fact, I’m organizationally retarded.  I don’t know that I have a strong suit at all.  What was I thinking?  I can’t get this job or any other job.

At this point I close the job posting disgusted that some typed letters on a flat screen have enough power to pervert my dreams for meaningful work into a fierce ambition to play the lottery.

I am beginning to accept that all of the emotional ups and downs are going to be with us for a while- their turbulence speaks to the reality that these are vulnerable times– we are vulnerable people.  That’s the thing with transition.  It’s like a colonic. It can be unpleasant because stuff that’s been clogged for a while starts spewing forth- like the fact that I’m a big, vulnerable, Fraidy-cat.  If I wasn’t convinced of this before, it was only due to my propensity toward delusions of grandeur.  I’ve found that Jesus goes after my disillusions about myself in much the same fashion as he turned over tables in the temple. There’s a big mess in order for the real mess to be exposed and cleaned up.  If you never find yourself in a mess, just get a newborn and quit your job, that will do the trick—within two sleepless nights your inner Fraidy-Cat, whose been disguised as a roaring Lion named Ego, will be shivering under the bed, meowing out to the Almighty. Here’s the great part though—Jesus loves a Fraidy-cat!

I’m coming to understand that real courage and purpose cannot be attained through my virtuous attempts toward bravery, or by getting a great job.  Courage and purpose exist in the expectant hope of another.  This hope is hard work.  It’s the job of believing; believing that whatever good thing is in me is not a result of my own hand and cannot be completed by my own effort; believing that the One who loves me more than his own life cannot and will not stop loving me. My passion, talents and American work ethic might be nice, but they are powerless.  Jesus said that faith is the force that moves mountains. All you need is a mustard seed’s worth, a dollop.  Shew.

I think tonight would be a good time to hit our neighborhood bar. I’ll get the kids their tequila, but as for me, I’m going to order a nice, rich bottle of Merlot.  Instead of fretting over job stuff, I’m going to propose a toast to the One who gently whispers, “your work right now is to believe, to trust, to rest in me the guy who transforms water into wine”.

Bottoms Up,

Heather

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