Remember when I was at square one and jobless? Sure, it was just for a couple weeks, but I was restless nonetheless. I’m in my mid-twenties — now is the time for me to work, busy and steady like the ant!
And so when a job fell out of the sky and neatly into my lap, I quickly snatched it up. I realize now that I didn’t pause to pray. If something crash lands in your life, looking like an answer to prayer, it’s got to be God’s will, right? I thought so, anyway, so I bustled into my business casual clothes from my intern days, squeezed into my smart heels that made me 6’3, and clippy-clopped my way to the interview.
At the close of the interview, I had the job.
I was thrilled. I was so proud of myself. Thank You, Lord, thank You, Lord, thank You, Lord.
Well, I’m back at square one and — yup — jobless. Don’t worry, I wasn’t fired.
The past two weeks have been a lesson in remembering just Who I should consult with about my next steps.
It makes sense in my mind, it really does. I was raised so long in the church, this is a children’s Sunday School answer: “God.” The One who orchestrates the whole universe and yet deftly orchestrates every individual’s number of breaths from the beginning of creation. The One who knows intimately the reason why my heart sags heavy with emotions while in the same moment knowing intimately the needs of the sparrow. The One Whose power surpasses the thundering roar of Niagara Falls by thousands, yet decided to look at me, dead in my sin, and say, “Come forth!”
And yet I didn’t have time to stop and ask Him to guide my decision about a new job?
Instead, I assumed His will. I wanted a job so badly, guys. So badly.
But this job wasn’t the one God intended for me in the long run.
I’m not one of those people who think humans can sidestep God. God knew I’d take the job. He knew I wouldn’t consult Him. He knew I’d be there for two weeks, wilting away under the stress and anxiety it caused and crying in utter misery to my husband about going to work the next day. He knew this would happen.
He used this time to teach me the importance of stopping my life and praying for His answer.
If I had only taken a breath, told the company I’d let them know on Monday, I could have skipped the past two weeks.
I could have skipped the sheer bewilderment of being unhappy in my job — something I’m not used to.
I could have skipped the overnight trip to the hospital with harsh chest pain induced by stress and anxiety.
I could have saved Mister from having to listening to my weary, teary “what should I do” moans.
I could have saved Mister and my parents from seeing my misery and insisting I leave the situation pronto.
I could have just skipped everything and gone straight to the next job God wanted for me.
But I didn’t. And God knew I wouldn’t.
I walked into the office this morning at 8:05. I hated how awkward it would be, but I barreled through it, muttering prayers under my breath. I cleaned out my desk (the numerous snacks a tall person needs to survive two hours), met privately with HR, handed over my resignation letter, thanked them profusely for their time, and left.
I was home and jobless by 8:30.
It’s humiliating, in a sense. Most of my friends won’t understand.
But I am jobless again, and relieved beyond words.
Moral of the story: Never neglect consulting the God of all creation and time before embarking on a new chapter, whether it be a job, marriage, dating, college, moving, buying a car, switching churches, becoming a member of a church, starting a Bible study. Never leave the Lord out of a decision! You might end up in the hospital eating cardiac diet cafeteria food with no salt.