This season's anthem is God Will Work Out by Maverick City Music. I have listened to this song daily since the beginning of the year simply because, at the moment, I need to be reminded of God's sovereignty every morning.
I can't help but wonder if this ordeal is an answer to a prayer I dared to release last year. A few months ago, I felt bold and prayed for a deeper relationship with God, a deeper knowing of who He is. I prayed for faith when remaining faith-filled seems wildly unreasonable and illogical. The scenario I envisioned back then begins with where I am now, with the ground beneath my feet shifting.
Now I'm caught in the throes of uncertainty. What began as a promising year quickly turned into a challenging one. A few days into 2022, I was informed that January 7th would be my last day of work. This setback–sudden unemployment–would affect everything; nothing would be untouched.
Do you remember when we thought the pandemic would only last two weeks? Similarly, this is what I assumed about being unemployed. I'll have a job by February, and life will go back to being normal. But just like we were wrong about the pandemic, I was wrong about this job situation.
It's hard enough to get a job in Nicaragua when you're actively searching for one. So how much harder do you think it is to get one when you're not looking at all? Right, pretty hard. But I fiercely believe that God asked me to trust Him and wait. Thus, I wait.
I understand that not applying for jobs makes zero sense. Frankly, sometimes it feels like I'm walking around with a label on my forehead that reads lazy. Other times, the label reads incompetent. I know I'm neither.
The thing is, I'm from a country where I cannot make a living in the career field I am most prepared for and most passionate about. And this isn't only my story. This is the story of most of us. Here, passion and work rarely collide. Here, it's more about striving for survival than thriving. It's being capable of running a safe-house for survivors of sex trafficking but only having the option to make $500-$700 a month by working 11 hours a day, five days a week, at a call center because "your English is good."
This breaks my heart. This season is a heavy one. Admittedly, believing that God Will Work it Out is harder now than it was a couple of months ago. Worry grows as my savings account gets smaller. And my savings account is now the size that alerts me that I have four more weeks to stay in my home.
So let me cut the SB (spiritual bypassing). This is hard. A couple of weeks ago, I felt myself succumbing under the weight of it all and was tempted to shut down and slumber through this season until better days found me. And this makes sense. Unemployment is not the only thing I'm dealing with at the moment. There is also the pursuit of justice for my 16-year-old self, and the preparation required to achieve it–the opening of wounds I didn't know existed. As if that weren't enough, this is the year I chase my eight-year-old dream of doing the Trauma-Informed Studies MA at the University of Nottingham.
So yeah, there are a lot of conflicting emotions moving through me right now. But isn't this when praise counts most?
Praise has kept me awake. Most days, I can see God's goodness clearly––visions that calm the storm. Other times, the miracles get buried under the heavy rubble. And isn't this life? Bittersweet. The ebb and flow of joy and gloom, the knowledge and acceptance of impermanence on earth. It's light and dark reminding me that I'm alive.
THIS TOO SHALL PASS
This adage has carried me through many unpleasant seasons and situations, and it is also holding me up through this one. Everything Changes. Nothing lasts forever. We see the evidence of this all around us. It's in nature when flowers grow and wither, in relationships when they begin and end, and in our bodies as they age and change.
So, if impermanence is in everything, and if it's everywhere on this side of heaven, this season is not the exception. This Too Shall Pass. Somehow. Sometime. God will work it out.
