Finding Stillness in the One Who Stays

I recently experienced the second worst week of my life. Or maybe it’s the first worst. I can’t tell yet. It’s like they’re competing with each other for the top spot. Which day hurt me the most? Which day did I cry more? The pain is still fresh. The wounds are still open. And I don’t see them closing right away.

Maybe I’m meant to have open wounds. Ones that don’t fully close, so I can’t feel the pain in its total capacity the next time my healed wound is ripped open again.

I’m not sure how I didn’t see it coming. I had time to prepare last time I lost my job. But this time, I felt blindsided. Betrayed almost. Like I was nothing more than a name with a salary costing the company too much.

I saw layoffs happening all around me– the loss, the fear, the anger. I could almost feel these unknown people’s pain radiating from the LinkedIn posts begging for someone to hire them. I still remember my crippling distress from just a few months ago. I tell myself, “It’s too soon to happen again.”

But here I am.

I wasn’t ready to fall back into the pit I had just built a ladder to climb out of. Now I find myself in this familiar darkness, looming with job loss anxiety, my ladder shattered in pieces all around me. My valleys are deep, and my mountains are high. Except when I get to the top, there isn’t much room to stand. Maybe the valleys are where I’m meant to be. Valleys are where I grow. As much as I can’t stand them, I’m stronger when I’m climbing.

I was at a Starbucks, coffee in hand, when I was delivered the shattering news that my role had been eliminated– along with my entire team and manager. I watched as their faces registered the words. It’s mind-blowing how four minutes can change your life. And how heartless the people telling you can be. Maybe it’s all business for them– but we didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.

Their words penetrated like bullets. My heart raced as my eyes stayed dry. I was shell-shocked once the call ended. I knew the waterworks were coming, but I needed to get home. I packed up and drove 2 miles back to my apartment. I barely made it through the door. Perfect silence met me as I filled it with the intensity of the sting that had just infected my life.

I first called my earthly father because I needed to tell someone I could confide in, and then I rushed to my heavenly One because I knew that only He could provide what my spirit needed most. I told God I didn’t understand why He would take something good out of my life– something I enjoyed and was skilled at.

I still don’t.

But just like last time, I know I don’t need to understand why. I just need to trust. So that’s what I’m doing today. It’s what I’ll be doing tomorrow and the next day– trusting.

This isn’t some kind of blind trust exercise, hoping the person you’re falling into will catch you. God has a proven track record, and it’s my responsibility to stay rooted in His consistency. The volatility and unpredictability of my career path have nothing to do with God’s character. He remains unwavering for a reason.

When the faultlines of our lives decide to one day introduce catastrophic damage, we have to know where to take refuge. God is our shelter in the storm. He is our protector when the broken pieces of our lives get uprooted and turn into sharp debris with dangerous potential. If we’re not prepared for these kinds of disasters, we could quickly end up separated from the loving arms of our Father.

When we get scared, we hide. But more times than not, we hide in the wrong places. We hide under a mask of depression. We hide inside walls that keep the light out. We hide under the disguise of sin and take on the identity of someone we’re not.

This is why we have to look to God for rescue and safety. It’s easy to let ourselves play the part of the savior and hero in our own story. But we weren’t the ones to bear the cross of Calvary. Jesus was. And His sacrifice continues to save us even now.

When tsunami-sized waves threaten to crash into my life, I tell myself to remember who appointed the ocean’s boundaries. Peace washes over me because I know God is in control, and even the waves tremble at His command.

Most people are bound to run at the first sight of turmoil. The disruption of our regular scheduled programming sends us into a state of chaos. But what if instead of running aimlessly away from the scene of our pain, we stayed? We know Jesus didn’t walk away from the undeserved sentence that awaited Him. Instead, He bore the cross for all mankind.

Had Jesus fled before He was arrested in Gethsemane and denied His purpose for being on Earth, we would all be lost today with no hope of redemption.

Jesus knows our pain, and He carries it for us. In Mark 14:36, the humanity of Jesus can be seen as He cries out to His Father in Heaven, “Abba, Father, all things are possible for You. Take this cup away from Me; nevertheless, not what I will, but what You will.”

We see within this prayer that Jesus was scared, just like you and I are at times, but His trust in His Father filled in the gaps that fear left open. 

If God let His only son experience this world’s injustice, suffering, and brutality, who are we to think He’d grant us exemption from it? We aren’t promised an easy life, but by living with obedience and fervency for the Lord, we are promised eternal salvation (Hebrews 5:7-9).

It isn’t that God wants to see us suffer. It’s that He wants to teach us something. And if we can make room for His lessons in our lives, the dark places we walk through don’t seem as daunting.