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.