Goodbye, Suite 140

A friend asked me the other night how I've been doing lately.
"In a nutshell?" I hesitated, looking for the right word. "It's a season of transition."

I'm pretty sure she couldn't guess just how much transition was packed behind that little sentence.

I know I already blogged today about last week's planning retreat, but today is a red-letter day! Today I said goodbye to a job that has been a constant in my life for the past two and a half years, and I'm feeling the need to commemorate the closing of such a significant chapter.

I admired L.E.'s sassy, purple-hued bangs next to me as I explained things from my seat at her side, and realized, with a nostalgic twinge, that this was the last time. I held another co-worker's baby, and thought "well, this won't happen very often at the new job." I snagged a hug from Neva as she walked by on the way to the copier, and took a moment to savor the closeness we've built over the past few years.

This is the job I took as a green, insecure 22-year old whose only experience with Excel was in her high school computer class five years earlier. At that ancient gray steel desk I learned how a corporate budget operates and developed the perseverance necessary to not give up when that same budget simply WOULD NOT make sense. I've learned the quirks of all four pastors, and the soda preferences of every one of the staff. I've learned that prayer really does help computers/printers/copiers function when all hope is lost. I've learned never to take an administrator for granted; without them, nothing can function! And I've learned that there is grace for the mistakes I will inevitably make.

All day long, I was feeling thankful for the experience of working alongside people who really follow Jesus, not just with their words but in the way they walk down the hall and interact with people. So many of them came by the desk just to say "congrats!" and give a hug.

And then they threw me a little goodbye party! I felt so loved.

Goodbye, church office. It has truly been wonderful. 

Please be praying for L.E. as she takes over a challenging position, and for me as I dive into this new season. New job, here I come!

Staff Retreating

Q: What were 90 of our church leaders doing at a dusty retreat center last week?
A: The annual Staff Retreat!

Let me give fair warning: the word "retreat" is misleading. While we do go to a camp location outside of town with bunkhouses and a dining hall, it's more accurately thought of as a boot camp--a boot camp of meetings. Along with our pastors and full-time staff, about seventy student leaders show up to pray, seriously evaluate their personal lives and their small groups, and make concrete plans that will direct them in the coming year.

My first retreat was in the fall of 2009. I was a rookie leader, scared to death by the intensity of holding my life under the microscope, but amazed that over seventy people would take leadership so seriously.

Like most Americans, I had spent half an hour every year--maybe--on those doomed goals that everyone makes the night before the January 1st. But really, aren't those more like wishes? I resolve (hope/wish) to lose ten pounds. I resolve (hope/wish) to be more patient. But here I was, spending an entire week making goals that actually seemed...attainable. Wow, what a concept.

Now, 3 retreats later, I find that the time spent in planning on this retreat is one of the most valuable things I do all year. Ok, ok, it could always be MORE valuable (for instance, if I actually reviewed those goals on a regular basis), but at least the process of taking a good hard look at my habits, attitudes, and goals doesn't crush me into a pile of weepy tissues like it did in '09.

Last week, seeing my flaws was not painful, but honest. I'm not a failure; I'm a forgiven work in progress. And now I feel encouraged, inspired to approach the challenging fall ahead with some fresh perspective.

I know that the goals I made are still too ambitious for me to do on my lonesome. But that realization is healthy because it leads me to the One who never gets tired, burnt out, or discouraged.

Identity and my Job Search

If you know me, you'll be excited about this news! If you don't, maybe you'll at least be encouraged by what God is teaching me about his goodness.

When I got back to hot and humid Texas three weeks ago, I leaped headlong into the job search with all the intensity and drive of an Olympic swimmer. Translated, this means I came home each night from training my replacement at my part time job, perched on the couch with laptop and a bowl of dinner, and systematically searched and applied for any opening that remotely interested me.

For hours.

I edited cover letter and resume for each application. I kept detailed files of everything I sent. I even took copies of said cover letters and resumes to the taupe-colored offices in person, just to give it a personal touch. There were blisters on my feet from the flats I wore that day, but I didn't mind. And as you might have noticed, I hardly blogged. The computer was otherwise employed.

I was serious, and I was eager for the job market to take me seriously.

This employment hunt reminded me of my research papers in college.The harder I searched, the more blisters I acquired, and the less I slept, the more likely I would be to find a job, right? The underlying assumption was this: the grade depends on me. 

Then, about two weeks ago, I was at work, training my replacement in the art of balancing bank statements. Except...they wouldn't balance. I dialed our bank, and C___ answered. We've had a great working relationship for years now, ever since I started handling the finances for our church over two years ago.

"How's your summer been?" she asked. "Great! I've been in Colorado, and now I'm job hunting." I paused, and on a whim went on: "Are you guys hiring?"

"Actually," she said, "we are! Go online and apply, and make sure you put my name on it."

I sat across from them in an interview four days later. Two days after that, they called to offer me a full-time position at the bank!  Not a single employer had responded from any of my hard, Olympian work in the previous two weeks. But here, without me hardly lifting a little finger, God had dropped an offer into my lap.

But I have a hard time with easy gifts. They feel too easy. This whole week, my mind has spun with doubts.  I wondered if God wanted to encourage me with the offer, but wanted me to hold out for something ideal, something awesome and exciting. Would I feel trapped, doing something that didn't involve writing, teaching, or children? What if I got stuck there for twenty years! And what if the "ideal "job was waiting just one or two weeks away? What if's are torturous.

And then a friend tweeted a cool quote about identity that stopped my "what ifs" in mid stride:

We have been conditioned to find our identity in what we do. However, Scripture tells us that we are children of God adopted through the grace of Christ, through whom we derive our identity. My identity is not what I do; I do out of my identity. - Brad House

This reminder of truth was like salve to my heart. I'm not an actress, who, when she chooses a role as a ditz, will never be cast as anything else. I am also not living in Huxley's dystopia, where I was bred for one thing, and one thing only. My role simply does not equate to my identity. It doesn't come from my performance or my job title, or anything else self-generated. Instead, my identity rests in the fact that I am created, loved, and forgiven by the only One whose opinion matters.

If you know me, you'll know this is a familiar refrain. How many layers of performance-driven identity will Jesus have to peel away before I rest in Him? I'm not sure, but it's really reassuring to know His persistent love doesn't fail, even if I do.

So, long story short, I took the job.

I'm resting in the truth that it doesn't define me, limit me, or make me. Instead, at least for now, it is a good gift from a good Father who takes good care of me and my heart. 

Facing the mirror

You know that embarrassing moment when you get home after a long day, go to the bathroom, and see a huge black or green something between your teeth from lunch?

Ugh!  How long has THAT been there?  

And why didn't anyone tell me?

That's the best analogy I can think of right now to describe the soul-searching I've been doing lately. It's hard to face the mirror, so to speak, and see ugly things in myself. Hard, but necessary. 

And thankfully, I had a friend to act as my mirror and show me the crud between my proverbial teeth. She had been there before, and could recognize the nasty for what it was. And she had the guts, and the compassion, to pull me aside and show me myself. As embarrassed as I felt in the moment, I love her more for it. 

After she handed me the mirror, Jesus has been refining what she said, making the image clearer. I am unique...and so is my crud. 

I'm finding that it takes guts on my part too, to keep on looking steadily at reality. I would much rather simply believe I was ok, you know? 

But humility leads to healing, and I know my heart has broken places that need it. And all summer, like a movie soundtrack on repeat from the next room, I've heard about the way our loving God uses pain to get our attention, humble us, and ultimately heal our brokenness. 

I'd actually love to hear your feedback. Have you had to face a mirror, or get up the courage to hold one up for a friend?