For years, I have ached for something that seemed unattainable.
I have cried and yelled and whined and conversed with God for this thing, sometimes feeling hopeful, sometimes feeling utterly hopeless.
I wanted to have a ministry job.
I had a feeling senior year of college that the newspaper world, the corporate world, and the world of "normal" work was not for me. I was studying to be a journalist, but it just never felt right. Sure I loved the communication study and I loved writing, but journalism and I just never really clicked like I saw my peers clicking with it.
I wanted to have a ministry job.
Okay, I told myself, you spent 4 years studying journalism. And besides, what would you even do in ministry? That's okay. There are lots of journalism jobs you could have. Get one of those.
So post-college, I took a job at a newspaper doing copy editing and design.
I spent most of my days hoping it would somehow sort itself out in my head and be what I wanted.
I would learn contentment in this, I told myself.
Spoiler alert, I never did.
Okay, I told myself, newspaper life isn't your thing. That's okay. There are lots of corporate jobs you could have. Get one of those.
So I found one.
I started low on the totem pole as a temp at an organization in town and eventually got hired on full-time doing customer service, then eventually worked my way up to actually using my communication degree and doing recruitment and member campaigns at the organization.
I told myself to give it time, that I would learn to love climbing the ladder like this, that I was making good money, using my degree to some extent, working your typical 9 to 5 job that you settle into in your mid-to-late 20's.
I would learn contentment in this, I told myself.
Spoiler alert, I never did.
Okay, I told myself, maybe a typical 9 to 5 corporate kind of job isn't your thing. That's okay. There are lots of quirky, non-typical jobs you could have. Get one of those.
So I found one.
I got a job at a bookstore, working a schedule that changed every single week, converting my brain to think about shifts instead of 9-5, fluctuating throughout just about every position in the store, feeling all footloose and fancy free.
I told myself to give it time, that I would learn to love having such a varied worklife, living week to week, never knowing what each week's schedule or day would look like, having a quirky, nerdy job like the quirky, nerdy girl I am.
I would learn contentment in this, I told myself.
Spoiler alert, I never did.
So what now? I asked.
There have been times where I have felt and heard things from God so strongly that there is absolutely no way for me to deny that they are from God. But there are also times where it feels like God is incredibly, annoyingly silent.
The past two months have been one of those times.
Back in December, I heard about a ministry position opening up that I knew right away would be perfect for me. I knew right away that it would just click so perfectly and that it would fill the ache beyond my wildest hopes.
I talked to some people about it, I applied, I felt great about it. I did the thing where I said to God, "Not my will but Thine. But You're ridiculous if You don't give me this job. Just, just give me the job."
Then, at the very beginning of January, in the quiet, I heard a faint whisper one morning.
"Patience, little one."
That was it.
One tiny whisper, so quiet I almost wasn't sure I really heard it, couldn't even be sure it was God's voice.
Come again? I asked. Say that once more?
Nothing.
For a month and a half, I didn't hear a peep. I begged and pleaded for an answer, I whined and complained about not knowing, I yelled and cried and stomped my foot a lot.
But all I got back was complete and total silence.
It wasn't until about a week ago that I understood the silence.
A week ago, I was offered and accepted a position at Fellowship Church as Worship Administrator.
And almost immediately after I was offered the position, this position that I had wanted since December, this position that I had wanted really for six years but didn't know it, the silence left and was replaced by beautiful words.
"See," They said. "I wanted you to be patience, little one. I wanted you to know I would take care of you. I wanted you to trust that I have felt your ache these long years just as much as you. I wanted you to believe that I had a way to fill your ache, but you needed to be patient for My perfect timing. Patience, little one. I love you enough to ask you for patience."
I can look back on the last 6 years of confusion and desire and hoping and every other emotion under the sun and say, "That was all worth it. Because I needed it. Because I needed the patience."
I am beyond excited and humbled and grateful for this new journey as a Worship Administrator at Fellowship Church.
The ache has left, and I am dizzy with relief.
