You're going to land on your feet

A colleague had come to Arkansas for a visit.  We are professional acquaintances, and he is a really nice guy -- but I wouldn't say he is a friend, and I have no reason to believe that the guy is a believer or has the same kind of worldview I do.  We have served together in professional society and gotten to know each other a little bit at conferences -- but that's honestly the extent of our relationship.

On the day in question, J sat across from me in my office at work.  He'd heard through the grapevine I was leaving Arkansas, and he wanted to talk more about why I was quitting my job and what was next for me professionally.  While I didn't straight up Jesus Juke the guy, the reality is that clear direction from God IS the reason I am quitting my job.  Consequently I don't avoid or gloss over this when I tell people about my decision to leave my job and perhaps academia altogether.

It's always a risk.  It's always uncomfortable.  I always feel a little awkward talking about it, particularly when I don't know people's spiritual background or have credibility built up with them.  I just try to follow the Spirit's leading and trust Him with my words.

Anyway, as I talked to my colleague, he shared with me his own disillusionment about certain aspects of academia.  Surprisingly, my decision to step off the tenure track into an unknown future has allowed me to have many significant conversations like this with colleagues.  They've told me things I've only talked with about my closest academic friends about.  They've been candid and honest and admired my bravery to basically say, "Stop.  Enough.  I'm sick of this."  And they look at me a little wistfully.

And then I think to myself -- and sometimes even say, "But that's not why I am leaving.  I'm not sick of this.  In fact, there are parts of this job that I love and that I think can make a huge difference.  I am leaving because God is clearly telling me to."

So as the conversation continued to unfold, I told J of my plans -- basically that I didn't have any.  He was a little flummoxed, and continued to ask me more questions.  After about half an hour of Q&A and discussion about what lay ahead, J left me with parting words I haven't forgotten.    As he left my office and told me how nice it was to see me and shook my hand, J reassured me saying, "Sarah, I just really have a good feeling you're going to land on your feet."

And, as I flail through the air without a living situation lined up or car to drive or any plan of employment after this school year, I remember that.

I WILL land on my feet.
He will work all things together for my good.

In the meantime, I am just grateful that God gives power to the weak and strength to the powerless.