Don't Worry?

For the last 10 days I've filled out job applications. I've filled them out online, I've filled them at the house, I've filled them out on the job site, I've even taken a completed one in, and had to fill out a second more thorough one. I feel like the last part of Green Eggs and Ham, "Yes, I will application-complete on a train. Yes, I will application-complete in the rain, or in the moat or with a goat..." (doesn't roll off the tongue well, does it?). What I've come to learn from the job hunt, particularly, is that most employers are fickle when it comes to who they hire. Employers don't hire people who can do the job and then some, but look for the person who can do the job and nothing else.

Case in point: I show up, resume in hand, at Starbucks during the hours they are holding a "job fair." I fill out their application, the manager takes one look at it and says, "Are you sure you want to work here?"
"Why? Is it not a good company to work for?" I ask.
"No, that's not what I meant. I mean, you have a Master's degree. Your over qualified to work as a "barista" (I take that to be the lowest man on the worker-pole). It only pays $8 hr, and is part-time. I suppose I can suggest you for an assistant manager's job, but my district manager hires those and she's not here. But, I'll pass your resume along."

And that's it. I'm dismissed, and nothing - ever - happens! It's like a bad episode of the Twilight Zone. Rod Serling is standing in my black and white living room, me furiously scrawling my personal information at the table behind him. He looks into the camera and beginning his remarks, "Like many ordinary men, this man - Jeff - is looking for a job.... Little does he know, but every application he turns in brings him one step closer to The Twilight Zone."
[Cue erie music as camera pans to table where Jeff is still feverishly writing]

This odd scene is repeated in almost every establishment where I seek work. What is ironic is that most of the places I enter have big signs saying, "NOW HIRING." See, employers aren't going to hire me to shovel fries, hang sweaters, or pour coffee, because they see that, although I can do the job their asking, I'm probably not going to be around the station long. They figure (and I know this because I see it in their beady eyes) as soon as a better looking train blows the departure whistle, I'm getting on board. Thus, I leave them just as they began; one person short, one more person to train, one more person to have to do paper work on, etc. Why not just bypass the headache and hire someone who is barely qualified for the job? That way, there is a little more assurance they'll stay around. (By the way - if you think this sounds just a bit paranoid, forget it! They really are out to get me!)

So, I'm unemployed. The thought makes me cringe, especially now...living in a new city, making new friends. They always ask, "So, where do you work?" or "Were you transferred to Dallas with your job?" I always have to swallow hard, checking myself in order not to tell a big fat lie, like, "Oh, yea. I got hired away from the L.A. Dodger organization to come work with the Rangers." But I always say, "At the moment, I'm in a vocational reorganization." Which everyone knows is short for, jobless, unemployed, no-funds coming in. And if you've ever been without income for a period of time, you know it is a scary period.

But then I remember that Jesus was unemployed. For three years Jesus went about teaching and ministering, but not bringing home the bacon. I mean, he didn't have steady work, like tax collecting (i.e. Matthew) or fishing (i.e. Peter, James, John). Jesus sort of traveled the small area of Galilee, and the larger area of Judea, living off the generosity of others. Now, as a side note: This idea is really interesting when you read what Paul has to say about the jobless, "If a man doesn't work, then neither should he eat" (1 Thes 3:10). I don't believe Paul is saying that the jobless Jesus should have gone hungry. See, Jesus had a task. It wasn't a job per se, but it was a God-directed task. As Jesus carried out his mission, as he did what God called him to do, God blessed him with sustenance. God put generous people into Jesus' life in order to provide for him (i.e. Mary, Martha, Lazarus have this function I think). Jesus' unemployment didn't last forever. It had a definite start date and a definite end date. At the end of the God-directed task, Jesus was called to bigger and better things. So, I have hope.

Yes, at this moment I'm unemployed. And yes, I believe this time - this transforming time - is a God directed task for me and my family. And yes, like my Savior, we are being provided for by so many gracious God-blessed people. People who are praying for us, people who are loving us into health, people who are literally, writing checks so that we have a roof over our heads and food in our mouths. There is no way we can express the enormous gratitude we have. Our prayer is that God will pour out His abundance on you the same way you've poured it out on us.

I'm still looking for a job (just a minimal job, so that I can concentrate on recovery). However, I'm not too anxious about getting by. I mean, Jesus did instruct us to pray, "Give us this day, our daily bread." Maybe this whole thing is about trust?

A Desert Reflection

After spending a little more than ten days in the wilderness, surrounded by muted Monks, you would think God was able to drive at least one spiritual truth into this stubborn heart of mine. Good News! He did.

About three days into my fasting from sensory overload, I realized that I could sit in the solitude of the brown adobe church and my mind didn't flit and skitter from one trivial thought to another. For some - and this was me before I went to the desert - thinking about being utterly bare before yourself was a bit threatening. Self knowledge, that is, touching the "real" in your own heart and mind AND naming it for exactly what it is, can be a disconcerting process. Yet, three days into the adventure for self, there I was. I had at last journeyed to the outer limits (I should probably say, "Inner Reaches") of frenzied experience. I crossed over into the newly found niche of sensory depletion. It was a place far from the tentacled chaos of modern life. What I now realize is, far from being threatening, that new place isn't a Picasso nightmare. Instead, it is an arena of mental calm and quiet. It is not just the acknowledgment that I can find a place where my surroundings are quite for a few moments. It is a placid opening in my spirit, laid bare before the "I Am." It isn't an external stilling as much as an internal reality.

The most poignant moment occurred just before a time of prayer. As the red New Mexico sun lagged over the canyon cliffs, I entered the silence of the sanctuary and sat before a shadow strewn image of a Crucified Christ. I removed my bent eye-glasses, settled onto the wooden seat, took a deep "cleansing" breath, and closed my sand-scratched eyes. I wasn't trying to be Jack Handy and think "deep thoughts" (forgive the SNL reference), or gain spiritual enlightenment. I just wanted the Creator of the Universe to somehow fill me up. I was there to gently ask Him, to beseech Him, to plead with Him, to let me know He was with me...even there in the silent wilderness.

A few minutes passed. My surroundings slowly muted, like when your head is underwater in a swimming pool. Against the muffled stillness, the soundtrack of my mind distantly played the beginning part of a song we sometimes sing in church service. The first line of the song is taken from Ps 46 and commands God's people to "Be still and know...."

Be Still and Know. How often I'd sung those words and not comprehended the importance of what they meant. Sure, on the surface the words are simple English. Small words. "Be still and know." Just four words. I get the dictionary definition of those words. What I hadn't incorporated into my spiritual life was the transforming order of those two verbs. "Be still and know..."

The idea that flashed through me filled me with sorrow. For more than 25 years I'd sought to know God. I searched for Him in church services, I searched for Him in the academy, I searched for Him in my word-smithed sermons, I even searched for Him in the pages of Scripture, believing that if I knew enough Bible I'd know enough Jesus. (Please don't misread this - I'm just quoting Christ here [cf. John 5:39-40].) There is nothing inherently negative about church, academics, sermons, or Bible study. As a matter of fact all those things are wonderful at supplementing a spiritual life. They aren't, however, a substitute for intimate knowledge of God. "Be still and know..." There is a profound truth here. What brought me to my spiritual knees there in the desert church was how far from the truth I'd been. I thought I could know God through what I did. I thought I could gain God-knowledge through my own efforts. Nothing could be further from the truth. "Be still and know..."

The thing God desires is for me to be a willing, open vessel before Him. He does all the revealing. My job is to be completely submissive. My task is to bring my broken, twisted, unhealthy, fragile, self before Him, and allow Him to do with me what He will. (Here is where faith comes in - trusting whatever He is going to do.) That fear of knowing myself as I truly am is all dispelled in light of who the Father is. Self knowledge, then, is recognizing who I am before the Creator and that only happens when I am still before Him. "Be still and know that I am God!"

My heart constantly longs to return to that inner place of peace. That still place where I know - with all that is within me - that He is God.