Damaged Goods

It’s been almost a year.

It’s been almost a year since I made one of the hardest decisions I feel like I’ve ever had to make, and I quit the job I thought I wanted, and thought I would have a lot of success at. It’s been almost a year since I almost made the decision to completely throw in the towel and call it quits on God, ministry, and the church because I swore to myself I wasn’t going to be “one of those people” who have a bad go around their first ministry job. Yet there I was handing in a letter of resignation, remembering how just the day before I was uncontrollably sobbing out of relief that it was almost over.

Winter came and went, and thank goodness the newness of spring and summer brought a new sense of optimism, a new understanding of myself, and a new drive to get back into what I knew I was being called to do. So I started in on the resumé updates and the applications only to have what felt like an eternity go by before hearing back from anyone about next steps and interviews. I was excited, and I was ready!

Interviewing can be fun, but the majority of the time (for me anyway) they start out terrifying. These interviews brought a bit more fear for me though because I was asked to talk about my most recent ministry experience, but they also brought a lot of warmth to my heart because it gave me the opportunity to brag on how much love I have for the church and the people in it (a genuine love I truly have in case you're skeptical). Yet I would always internally cringe feeling like what I just shared had blown everything and there was no coming back from it. My heart would sink out of an assumed affirmation of my feelings of how it went each time I would get a response back:

“Thank you so much for your interest in this position, but we’ve decided to go with someone else.”
“Thanks for a great interview! We really enjoyed getting to know you, but we’ve decided to go with someone else.”
“Sorry this position has already been filled.”

It wasn’t until one of the last places I applied to called me back with yet another “no” that I began to convince myself of the most ridiculous (yet apparently believable) conclusion: Well kid, who’s going to want to hire you? You're damaged goods. 

You know those moments where you tell yourself something you know isn't true but you're so gripped by fear that you just can't help but believe it? That is a continual space I live in that I know I need to surrender to the Lord, but fear is such a paralyzing emotion that I get gripped by. As beautiful as the newness of physical seasons and emotional ones were, I was still sitting on my hands feeling the weight of fear holding me down. I got lackadaisical and apathetic to the joys and passions of ministry, of my calling, of the dreams and hopes God had been stirring in me, and honestly to pursuing God all together. And it was all out of fear that I was going to rush into something and mess it up all over again.

After hearing some wise words from someone very close to my heart who I love and trust, she helped me realize that the type of fear I was living in was a type of fear that I never thought was possible. It was a type of fear that sounded funny to me when she said it because it was type of fear that I thought would puff up my pride and create another blow up like the one I had just experienced.

I am constantly living in fear of succeeding at my calling.

Does that sound ridiculous to anyone else or just me? How is it possible to be afraid of success? I can talk about fear of failure all day long because that's the only type of fear I've ever known. But being afraid to do well? That's absolute insanity. But, of course, I slowly started to realize that she was right. I think what it boils down to is that as much as I talk about and believe in the redemptive power God has for people's lives, I've become so good at telling other people he can do it for them...but I haven't been able to believe he could do it for me.

Instead, I have been allowing this seemingly ridiculous fear to paralyze me and keep me apathetic towards pursuing ministry in some capacity again. What I have learned about this though, especially through this entire healing process, was that I became apathetic because I allowed all of the emotional hurt to paralyze me. Being the victim of emotional hurt is an easy space to live in because it's better to blame than to take responsibility. I came to the realization (and have to keep reminding myself even now) that in the midst of what felt like the biggest shit storm, and as God continues to work in and through me, I am the one who is allowing myself to be robbed of freedom from apathy. I am the one who is allowing myself to have negative thoughts and feelings; I am the one who is allowing myself to stew in past conversations and let them keep getting under my skin;

I am the one who is allowing myself to keep living in a mess of "what ifs" and hypothetical situations, and I am the one who is keeping myself in fear of succeeding in whatever God calls me to. All of these things have become a constant revolving door of a terrible emotion that keeps robbing me of the promised and continuous freedom in Christ I have obtained, but continue to wrestle with the validation of having on most days.

People have asked me if I'm going to get back into vocational ministry again, and honestly all I can do is shrug my shoulders and say, "I sure hope so!" even though I don't have a sweet clue if that is where God will lead me again. I hesitate with that question because I'm certain there is so much more that God is trying to reveal in me as I go throughout this incredible and crazy life with him, a life lived sent and lived on mission. I know there is so much more God has been trying to reveal to me for so long in the ways in which my soul, like the very deepest parts of my soul that I don't even know exist yet, connects and is in tune with him. And I know that until I submit myself to allowing these things to be revealed, it will still be unclear to me what launching head-first back into things is going to look like.

Trusting the process is hard, and continuing to wait within the process is even harder.
I wish it weren't so, and I wish fear wasn't a regular thing for me.

As I go through this literal soul-searching process, the greatest thing I have to remember is that through these painful and necessary refining moments the call to preach and demonstrate the Gospel isn't going away. I can choose to allow the most ridiculous amounts of fear to keep paralyzing me, I can choose to allow this ridiculous thought of being "damaged goods" (which sounds super dramatic I know) to destroy the identity I know I possess in Christ, and I can choose to let apathy keep holding me back. But all that does is give the enemy the upper hand and make him feel like he's won.

And there's not a chance he'll be getting that satisfaction.

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