In Pursuit of Gainful Employment II

As you may recall, we left off a couple days ago with me saying that I worked in the Taylor University Archives for three and a half years, organizing the Hillis Collection until I graduated from college. I was able to organize about a quarter of the collection in detail (50 boxes), and the other three quarters were at least organized according to category. Now, before you go knocking my seemingly slow pace, remember that I only dedicated six hours of my week to this, and for the part of the collection that was organized in detail, I could tell you exactly which box to go to in order to find what you were looking for. Not bad, considering we had no clue what was in the collection before this!

When it came time for me to graduate from college, I think I was just as scared as every other graduate out there. "I don't know a darn thing! What idiot is going to hire me? What the heck am I going to do with my life? Aren't I supposed to this all figured out by now?"

Such was the cacophony that was running through my mind at the time, but I also had a few other questions. 

A. "Will anyone hire me?
B. I know that I'm nearly a straight A student, but how much will I have to prove my intelligence to my employer?
C. Will they believe me when I say I can do the job in spite of my cerebral palsy?
D. Are they okay with little accommodations?
E. How many applications will I have to send out?
F. I'm so tired of having to prove myself."

In case you haven't figured it out already, my head is a very noisy place, and the answer to these questions are as follows:

A. Despite the fact that I had worked in the capitol at Madison and gone on over 12 interviews with for jobs working for respresenatives and senators, not one of them hired me. I ended up getting a job at a fertilizer and chemical lobby. Knowing what I know now about the earth as the Lord's--not to mention what happened later, I shudder over having ever held that job.

B. A lot, unfortunately. Apparently, having cerebral palsy and being of low intelligence go hand-in-hand (at least in their minds). Believe me, you only have to explain it once. I GET IT.

C. No. My first job had such a micromanager for a boss that I ended up getting fired from it. I'll admit it, it was 70% my fault, but he was also a jerk who wouldn't leave me alone to let me do my job.

D. There were no real accommodations with my jobs I had before seminary, but apparently, churches wonder how in the world you can make calls on people when you can't drive a car. There are ways, people. It's called enlisting the Body of Christ, and requiring the elders and deacons to engage in something other than church politics. Shocking, I know.

E. For my jobs after college, I sent out at least 150 applications before I got a single job offer. Now that I have my Master's--yes, a Master's--it's looking like that number will be the same, if not higher. I naively thought it was going to be easier this time around.

And when I looked for a job the second time around after I was fired from the first one, (though I kept this bit of information to myself), I still filled out another 150 applications before I was given a single job offer. I wondered then, and I wonder now, "Is it me? Am I really that undesirable as an employee?" Considering what has just happened in my life, I have to answer "yes".

F. Yep. Still tired of it. Hasn't changed. Probably never will.

I say all of this in the wake of what was my last rescinded job offer. I spent the summer of 2009 working as the pastor at a lovely little Reformed Church. The church had no pastor, and so I did everything the pastor does. I preached, I taught Sunday School, I taught VBS, I had people over for dinner, I learned names, I formed relationships, I loved, and yes, I made housecalls. It was fantastic. I have never felt so fulfilled in all my life.

Now, I'm not gonna lie. There were people who were skeptical about whether or not I'd be able to do the job. Nobody wants to say it, but the word disability looms LARGE. So they said, "Well, we'll just have you preach May 17 and May 24, and we'll see how those go.

So I thought, "Alright, I have two weeks to prove myself." BLARGH, that again. So I preached on May 17. And I blew their socks off. And I preached on May 24. And I blew their socks off again. And then when I started doing everything else AND the preaching, well, I don't know what happened, but the Holy Spirit was definitely moving. I tell ya, I'm so glad He's on my side!

It was with a sad heart that I left those beloved people after 14 wonderful weeks. Yet I was also hopeful, because I knew I could send them my profile and put myself in the running for their pastoral position. "Surely," I thought, "After spending a summer with me and getting to know me (because I ain't fake), they'll consider me."

I sent that church my profile around Christmas 2009. And I waited for eight long months to hear anything. See, the thing with applying to churches is, they don't tell you that you're not it, they just don't tell you anything. And so, after what was basically eight months of silence, I finally determined that I needed to go looking somewhere else. Don't worry, I had already been sending out profiles to other places. As a matter of fact, to date, I have sent out over 75 profiles to churches in the RCA, the CRC, and the PCUSA. I'm guessing most fellow seminary graduates only sent out about 20 or so. Um, I've already reached that number (55 are in the RCA alone). The point is, it wasn't as if I was resting all my hopes and dreams on this one church. I just really wanted this one church. 


But I was searching elsewhere, when all the sudden, I got a call from the chair of the search committee. 


"Jill", she said, "We'd like you to come in on Monday for an interview with us." (It's already  Thursday).


I had no idea why I was doing this. After all, these people already knew me, didn't they? But, I also understood that they probably had some specific questions to ask, and I really wanted the chance to address the big pink elephant in the room.


I went to that interview with joy and excitement, and actually had a great time. It was such a joy to again be with people I knew so well. 


I got another phone call on Tuesday evening, saying that the consistory had approved the search committee's selection (me), and now they would like to invite me to come and give a candidating sermon one month from the date of that phone call. Booyah on the sermon, but man, it was a long month! Furthermore, they would be holding the congregational meeting for the purpose of taking a vote right after the service. So I wouldn't be caught in suspense for very long. Booyah again!

As I said, it was a long month of waiting, hoping, praying, and sermonizing at 12:30 in the morning until the day I was scheduled to preach. I preached what I believe the Holy Spirit gave me, and the congregation seemed to receive it well. Regardless, I knew I had done my job to to the best of my ability, I felt called to this church, and I hoped the vote would go the way I (and hopefully many others) wanted it to.


I went home to await what I thought was going to be a congratulatory phone call. Instead, I got a knock on my door later that afternoon, telling me that the vote had fallen "just short" of the 2/3 vote that was required. The bottom (along with my stomach) dropped. I felt my face instantly heat up, the adrenaline kicked in, and my mouth tasted like metal. I calmly told those at the door that I was okay, that life would go on, for both me and the church, and that God was in control. I firmly believed all of this. I still do. 

But it has still been a grieving process. Both of us, the church and I, suffered a loss. The visitors also told me the reasons why I was not voted in as the pastor, but because I love and respect them so much, I'm not going to go into those reasons here. Those who are my friends on Facebook already know the reasons anyway. I will say this: the reasons for not hiring me would be grounds for discrimination in any other place except for the church. Here, it's completely legal. What does this say about us as the Body of Christ?

The point of my post is this: I am still grieving. I am still a little angry, but mostly sad. And I'm not even angry at the people of the church. In fact, if they were to reconsider my call, I would probably take it. But there is still anger lurking there somewhere, and I'm not exactly sure why. Mostly, I am just sad. This was and still is a Body of believers that I love. They will always hold a special place in my heart because they formed who I am as a pastor. I would not have been able to graduate from seminary without them. I believe we found something special together throughout our summer, and I believe that I was the person God called to that church, but something got in the way. I guess I grieve the fact that I believe God's will was not done. 

Because friends, hear this. Although God is in full control of this world, and although he is sovereign and all-knowing, God must also balance his power with our free will. He balances these two things perfectly (I don't know how) because he wants to be in free and loving relationship with us human beings. And he loves us too much to force himself where he is not wanted. For whatever reason, God knew that he was not wanted that day, in that church, and so he allowed something to stand in the way of his will, which I believe was my call.

How I wish things had turned out differently! How I wish that I didn't have to wonder whether or not I am called! After all, if I can't break through here--with a church that knows me so well--can I break through anywhere? Should I even be pursuing ordination? I don't know. I work through all these questions in the midst of my grief. I grieve for my loss. I grieve for the church I love. I grieve for the church universal, who is still not yet embracing the diversity that God calls us to embrace. Brothers and sisters, we are the Beloved of God! Do you realize that? And as the Beloved of God, we are called to certain standards of love, and yes, acceptance. 

I'm not advocating relativity here. And I'll address this thought tomorrow (or when I get to it). Until then, please leave with this. I still love this church. I still love THE church. But while I love, I do grieve, and I am still in pursuit of gainful employment.