I’m sitting at the park, watching my kids swing with my left eye and giving wimpy parents the dress down with the right. I do love hating on other peoples parenting and for the first time in days, my children aren’t asking me stupid questions, so I should be enjoying this, but instead I’m distracted, and only partially due to the ant crawling on my cheek. Today I received three rejection letters.
Living by faith is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. It sounds easy in practice and I suspect many people think they do it, but with contingency plans, options and a history that lends to their odds. Me? I’m just floating down the river on my back hoping a fish takes pity on me and commits hara-kiri in my arms. I don’t have a plan or a pan. Nope, I have a felony and mediocre writing skills.
Nearly two months ago, I took a leap of faith and quit my job. I had been praying for over a year that God would release me from it, but every day I would wake with the same obligation to keep going. The position I was paid for was secondary to that which God had designed. My days there were filled with people in crisis, strangers who needed to know that miracles do happen, addicts dying a slow death, elderly people who just wanted a friend, war veterans plagued by their damaged minds, parents struggling to cope with the death of a child, scorned women, the homeless, the insane, the forgotten. Worst of all was the constant parade of family who had been dominated by the undertow of addiction for so long that they couldn’t distinguish up from down. Morality was muddied, mistakes compounded and love used as a weapon of self-destruction. I didn’t work in a crisis center, I worked in retail, but God knows where there is need.
My own history, replete with mental illness, drug addiction, enabling, homelessness and a rapid decline in morality, allowed me to see these things for what they were—but at what great cost. Though cliché, ignorance is bliss. Over time I started to sink into a depression. I felt completely ineffective. There I sat with so much experience, willing to share with anyone in need, yet I saw people make the same mistakes time and time again. My words didn’t penetrate, my experience had no resonance. I could chart the inevitable progression of the disease in my mind and then watch it play out as predicted while I sat impotent to help. Every day I failed, every night I grieved and by morning I begged God to be relieved of duty. Towards the end, I began to have physical reactions to the stress. My hair began falling out, I developed psoriasis, food allergies, fatigue, weight gain, anxiety attacks, muscle cramps, sleep loss, nightmares and fits of anger. I’m certainly not Jesus, my limits became obvious.
The kicker is, we don’t always know when we’ve been effective and some seeds take time. It is easy to become discouraged by the failures. They are always louder than the successes. I try to remember that there are a lot of people who were integral in my success who will never know it. There are nurses, counselors, doctors, acquaintances, friends, strangers, bureaucrats, and junkies who will never know that they helped to save my life. And God’s plans are bigger than any of us can comprehend, more complex and creative than we could design.
It was a beautiful June day. I had been woken up to breakfast in bed, which is a rarity in my home. I went to work that day feeling confident and hopeful. You should always beware of these days. In my experience, this is the parade before the gallows. What followed was a series of ultimately meaningless events, with exception to one thing; my release. How do you know the voice of God? How do you identify his hand? For me it has come with time observing and practice listening, and that day it was unmistakeable. It took one look from one person and God’s intentions hit me with the force of a cat 5 hurricane. There were no words or exchanges that lent to it. When God speaks, he needs no corroboration. I was to leave, I was to leave then and I was to do it without fear.
I stepped out that day without a plan. The only assurance I had was that God provides for those who are obedient and faithful, and I’ve clung to that promise. It was so out of character for me that my employer assumed I had another job lined up and when I told him I didn’t, he laughed, as if I were lying. That is because the idea of truly acting on faith is foreign to most of us. The day that I quit, I went to my church and asked my preacher how to step out in faith. His response was, “I wish I could tell you, but I’m not very good at it.” I appreciated the honesty. Since that day, I have applied for nearly 400 jobs. I’ve had two interested parties, a handful of decline letters and a ton of disinterest. I have an empty bank account, bills that are due and two children that can’t be asked to understand the circumstances. I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but I try not to live in fear. I wake each day reassured that I made the best decision by following God’s lead. I try to hold on to the promises God has already fulfilled in my life as a reminder that he didn’t create any of us to suffer needlessly, nor did he save us only to let us fail. Paul wasn’t promised it would be easy, he was promised it would be possible and it would be worth it, as are we.
Lessons in faith are a lot like what we ask our children to do; trust without reason, do without understanding, try without guarantee. If my only accomplishment today is to be willing, as a child, I will have succeeded. There is a plan, it just isn’t mine. And just like children, we aren’t privy to all of the details, but we are loved, provisioned and considered in all things. After all, even the birds and flowers are provided for. And how much more loved are we?
Matthew 6:26
Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?
The Reprobate's Guide to Pancakes 
Amen!
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