Character to Match the Assignment
People do not seem to realize that their opinion of the world is also a confession of character.
RALPH WALDO EMERSON
When we left Guatemala and rejoined life in the States, we moved into my grandparents’ house in Seattle’s Queen Anne neighborhood, minutes from that green wooden park bench I would sit on and pray a decade later. My grandfather’s health was failing, and we wanted to be close to him and also be there for my grandmother.
But I immediately began to struggle. Nothing made sense anymore.
Though Erik and I rejoined the life we had left years before, going to the same school we had previously attended, we wrongfully assumed friendships would pick up where they had left off.
Since this was pre-Internet, I asked my best friend one day what she thought about the letters I had sent her, if she had gotten them, because in my nearly three years away, I never received any from her.
She shrugged as her locker slammed closed and said, “Yeah, I got them. I read a little bit. But your letters are really long, ya know?”
I stared at her with a feeling of rejection I couldn’t comprehend. This girl, who was supposed to care about me, couldn’t even get through a few pages of what was going on in my world … a world away.
I then realized it wasn’t that everything was different. It was that I was different.
I no longer fit in, if I ever did.
Some people think luxury is the opposite of poverty. It is not. It is the opposite of vulgarity.
Coco Chanel5
School became a struggle. Listening to shockingly crass and foul conversations from my fellow classmates and wading through surface-level friendships exhausted me. I finally found some girls who were authentic and wanted to make a difference in this world and who loved Jesus deeply. I cherished them, but I could feel myself still having to remove a part of who I had become: the girl who had grown up quickly by experiencing how much of the world lives.
This American life, I realized, is simply not real life.
But over time I allowed myself to morph back into the girl who thought mostly of friends, clothes, and boys. One who was no longer shocked by superficial conversation, waste, and excess. Deep down, I knew God had something bigger planned for me, but I pushed the bigness out of my mind. I was always in student leadership and wanted to do what I could to “change the world,” but even that evolved into mostly liking the idea of change. I didn’t actually want to get my hands dirty.
Mere weeks before summer ended and my junior year of high school began, my parents decided it would be healthy for Erik and me to switch to public school. Changing schools again? I thought. No. Not happening. No more new. I’m done. I just want to settle in. I want to be comfortable. I’m sick of new and tired of feeling stretched all the time.
This would be my fourth school in my middle and high school years. Well, five if you counted the brief attempt at homeschooling when we initially moved to Guatemala. I fought and cried and screamed. But Mom and Dad held firm, knowing the importance of what the Lord had impressed upon their hearts.
Many things about our Christian school were difficult for me and sort of a by-product of being at a private school. But the Bible knowledge and the strong foundation of Christ’s love I learned within those walls undeniably prepared me for living out my faith once I stepped foot in public school. Public school grounded me—and I loved it. Time and time again I was faced with decisions that clarified for me whether I truly believed my faith to be truth or not. I was made fun of, challenged, and debated with. It was as if new friends watched to see if I’d slip up … if I truly believed what I claimed. As my last two years of high school sped by, these friends realized my words and my actions seemed to line up—not that I was perfect all the time, I was far from that—but they saw enough consistency that their trust in me emboldened the trust and confidence I had in God.
God was still shaping me and adjusting my worldview during this time. Though I had grown a lot from my experiences, I was still scared of the big world and wasn’t sure of my place in it. I prayed against being used somewhere like Africa whenever we raised money for missionaries or heard someone speak about the work they did there. When did I stop being this girl who embraced adventure and thrill, seeing it as an opportunity to live freely and instead viewed it as too risky?
I think God just chuckled to Himself.
Years passed and I grew from a girl with big dreams for herself into a young woman who desired God’s big dreams instead. Seasons came and went following the day I sat on that park bench and handed God back the pen that would write my life’s story. I’d held back from continuing my higher degrees in art history because I’d felt a weighty no from Him. Not knowing what was next, I tried my best to be patient while waiting for God to reveal more of His plan to me, but I struggled in the wait.
Working in two sister restaurants on Seattle’s waterfront all through college earned me the title of comanager of one of the restaurants a year after graduation. I loved that my restaurant was full of friends new and old that I’d helped hire, train, and encourage. This place was a launching pad for young dreamers who had big aspirations in graphic design, film, and the medical field. Feeling a bit stuck in the interim, I knew God would use this place as a launching pad for me too. I tried my best to swallow down my own disappointment and keep a genuine smile on my face as coworkers handed me their notice before heading to grad school, flying to New York for internships, and spending a summer with the Peace Corps. Feeling doomed to live a small life, I fumbled with the sting of defeat as I recalled the international life I had lived as a child and the one in the art world I had previously planned.
Growing up in Seattle meant I had a deep affection for the sea and being near it filled me with hope. My throat would tighten from holding back tears every time I walked onto the patio of the restaurant, praying Christ would sweep a thick salt-watery breeze over me and rustle my hair. I loved thinking of Him in the water and in the wind. I loved spending my days so close to docked sailboats in the harbor that I could hear their ropes creaking as the tide tried to take them back out. Sometimes I felt like I was one of those glossy white vessels, tied up and unable to get far. Wanting God to use me for what I was created for, my heart ached to get out of the safe life I lived. It didn’t even occur to me that I used to want a safe, smallish life. By giving me what I once wanted, God was helping me realize I was made for more.
I never tired of walking upstairs and into the dining room of the fancier of the two restaurants and seeing the sweeping panorama of the Elliott Bay. The view never ceased to take my breath away. God always breathed new life into my soul as I stood before those windows that boasted a grand stretch of boat, sea, and sky. He was with me in my wait. Even when the wait went longer than I wanted it to.
With a sore and melancholy spirit, I watched the web of masts bobbing to and fro with the rippling of the waves and realized this quote by J. A. Shedd was true: “A ship in harbor is safe, but that’s not what ships are built for.”
I knew security and control were what I ultimately craved. I had no idea what leaving my safe harbor would mean; the idea of living outside my comfort zone sent shivers down my spine. God continued to whisper the word more into my very core. My heart began to race as I thought back to the day I’d opened my hands to Him and asked Him to direct my path with the words Yes and Send me playing upon my lips. He hadn’t forgotten about me. Somehow there was something to be learned in this time of anticipation.
As my mind recalled the day on the bench that overlooked the Space Needle, it became abundantly clear that there wasn’t much choice. Either I was going to trust Him enough to go with Him, or I wasn’t. I needed to quit telling God to hurry up and not only angle myself toward Him with the idea that He actually had His own story for me, but realize that He’d already started penning it down.
Looking through an old journal from during this time of wait, I found this:
How long was it from the time that God first spoke to Abram (Abraham) that Isaac, the child of promise, was born? Twenty-five years! (see Genesis 12:4 & 21:5)
Why did God wait twenty-five years? Because it took God twenty-five years to make a father suitable for Isaac. God was not concerned so much about Abram, but about a nation.
The quality of the father will affect the quality of all the generations that follow. God took time to build Abram into the man of character he needed to be.
Abram had to begin to adjust his life to God’s ways immediately after the promise had been given. He could not wait until Isaac was born and then try to become the father God wanted him to be.
I’m reminded of the two times I tried learning the piano. The first occasion I was in elementary school, and taking lessons on campus meant once a week I had to spend recess in a tiny, musty-smelling piano room that felt no larger than a closet. In fact, I think it previously was a closet.
I wanted to learn to play the beautiful hymns and arias that my mother made look so easy as her fingers moved quickly over the keys. But it was hard! You had to actually practice (a lot!) to play that effortlessly well. So, when I broke my arm a few months into the school year, I was secretly glad and didn’t try again for almost fifteen years.
Then, my junior year in college, when I needed a few electives and I saw that Piano 101 was an option, I jumped at it. I thought enough years had passed that I’d be willing to take the time for the basics and it’d be easier in general.
Nope.
I hated it. I had to relearn where middle C was and how to place my fingers. I was required to practice all the silly little songs I had learned as a child (and hated even then). I didn’t want to take the time to learn what was needed in building my foundation.
Give me something that required both hands moving all over the keyboard! I’d close my eyes and imagine myself swaying back and forth to reach the farthest keys, the beautiful melodies drifting from the white baby grand that I pictured buying one day. I couldn’t wait to fill the whole house with soul-stirring notes, just like my mom used to do years earlier while playing the hand-me-down upright piano in our living room.
Ultimately, I dropped the class on the last possible day to do so, knowing I simply wasn’t willing to take the time to grow. I refused to learn the basics, the foundational aspects. I wanted to be Mozart from the first day I walked into class. God taught me a lesson: If I see small things as insignificant, with what heart could I take on things of greater substance and honor?
God certainly wasn’t saying to me like the master said to his servants in Matthew 25:21 (ESV), “Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master.”
There are so many times in life when I’ve decided I was ready for something and wanted to jump right in, realizing too late that I wasn’t. One of my most embarrassing moments ever was auditioning for the spring musical in my senior year of high school. I’d chosen the song and monologue, practicing each a handful of times. I had romanticized it all so fully that there was no doubt in my mind I’d not only get a part but gain the lead. The day of tryouts, I froze. Never having practiced in front of anyone, standing alone on stage absolutely and totally terrified me. As all eyes were on me, the truth of my preparation (or lack thereof) showed brightly. I forgot every word of the monologue and stammered and trembled my way through the song. I didn’t have a firm foundation or the needed preparation. And I crumbled in front of a hundred peers.
No matter how exciting plunging off a cliff and into a pool below seems, if we jump before learning to swim, we’ll drown. We know this—it’s obvious, right? So why do we forget that same concept as we jump into new experiences?
Another entry from that tattered journal from years ago reminds me that there is great purpose in waiting. I don’t know where I found this piece of wisdom I recorded here. It surely wasn’t my own. I wish I was that wise.
“When God called Abram, he said, I will make your name great.’” (Genesis 12:2 NIV)
That means: I will develop your character to match the assignment I’m giving you.
Nothing is more pathetic than having a small character in a big assignment. Many of us don’t want to give attention to our character; we just want the big assignment from God.
If you can’t be faithful in a little, God will not give you the larger assignment. He may want to adjust your life and character in smaller assignments in order to prepare you for the larger ones.
God finally made it abundantly clear that I needed to leave that little restaurant on the bay. I began to interview for positions at nonprofit after nonprofit, but each time it came down to myself and one other person. And every time I was the one left wanting. As the shame of inadequacy began to sneak in, I felt like God was whispering that it was not that I wasn’t good enough, it was that these places were simply not where He wanted me. I couldn’t ask the Lord to open doors without welcoming those that were closed, because each one I found shut tight guided me closer to the one I’d find unlocked.
Feeling renewed expectation that He really was leading the way, I continued praying as I circled ads in the classifieds and searched websites and bulletin boards. Finally, one day a friend mentioned her boyfriend’s company was hiring and suggested I apply.
Knowing I needed some sort of income because bills were piling up, I interviewed while continuing to pray that God would direct my path and make His plan obvious. Surprised when I got the job, I secretly wondered how working in a cubicle could possibly be a chapter in God’s story for me.
And then I met Ben.
In the couple years we worked together, we set each other up on dates with friends and roommates. I lent him my patio table and chairs when his house was being renovated and he wanted to make dinner for his then-girlfriend. He drove me to work so I didn’t have to take the bus downtown, and we attended the same church, and even the same Bible study. The eight-year age difference shielded our eyes and hearts from there ever being more than friendship between us. And then all at once, without anticipating its arrival … a deep love for one another snuck up and crashed over us like a tidal wave.
Becoming bolder in my faith as my relationship with God grew, I felt deeply that the Lord had something unexpected for me. My ordinary, common life would be flipped around as a testimony that He can use anyone who desires to be used. Still unaware what my purpose or assignment from God was, I knew what it wasn’t. Holding on to that, I continued forward as I worked on becoming a woman of substance. I made mistakes and frequently got in my own way, but as time continued, I realized more and more how God could use broken people and that I didn’t have to be perfect to be used in His perfect plan.
Now when they saw the boldness of Peter and John, and perceived that they were uneducated, common men, they were astonished. And they recognized that they had been with Jesus.
Acts 4:13 ESV
Our heavenly Father uses ordinary men and women who love Him. He uses regular people like you and me, regardless of our feelings of inadequacy and incapability. In fact, He uses us as a result of them. Because along with those feelings of inadequacy is a dependence on the Lord, knowing it is not in our own strength that we do things but in His strength. My old plan in the art world was one I was planning to succeed in because I felt I could do it, not because I’d asked Him to work through me. My time of wait taught me to stop trying to do things in my own excellence and strive instead to do things in His.
In the Bible, young David was anointed with oil over a decade before becoming king of Israel. He, too, didn’t know what he was anointed for and lived in expectation of God’s plan for his life. After David killed a giant named Goliath, King Saul invited David to serve him personally, playing the harp on troubling days as well as becoming his armor bearer. What David didn’t realize during that time of service to the king was that God was preparing him in ways he couldn’t have orchestrated himself. What better way to learn how to be king than as a constant figure in Saul’s day-to-day life? As harpist, David entered into Saul’s home and gained relationships with the king’s family. As armor bearer, David was required to stand by Saul’s side as he spoke strategy with his generals. David saw how the king responded under stress in war, what he did when battle was successful, and how he led his people through defeat.
After being promoted to a high-ranking official in Saul’s army and seeing huge success, David spent years fleeing from the jealous hand of Saul. Though David was confused and discouraged, God used this time as well. As a warrior who initially hid and tried to do things on his own merit, David transformed into someone who sought God’s direction first, becoming an upright man of deep integrity whom God Himself called “a man after my own heart” (Acts 13:22 NIV). Like us, David was far from perfect. But because of his struggles and years when life seemed to be on hold, he became a man who trusted God fully. David’s faith-filled mentality turned him into an incredible king with a legendary story.
By acknowledging that there is nothing outside of His timing, we can push frustration aside through seasons of seeming pause, knowing that there is teaching within them.
David saw Saul in personal situations and how he dealt with responsibilities in work. My time in that little cubicle helped me see Ben through all sorts of seasons as well. I witnessed his humility when work went well and his character through disappointment in deals gone south. I saw him read his Bible through the little window by the door of his office as I walked down the hall, and I observed his integrity through relationships, both healthy and lousy. I saw adventure in him when he’d fly across the country to learn how to ride bulls in Kansas and barefoot water ski in Alaska.
I would have observed some of these things had we been simply friends, but not as fully as seeing him at work day in and day out. God used that little cubicle and my season of wait to grow my character and build the foundation needed before I was ready for the next open door. And He used that time to allow me to watch the same things occur in Ben.
God’s top desire is for us to love Him as we live an openhanded life, seeking to join Him in what He’s doing. By acknowledging that there is nothing outside of His timing, we can push frustration aside through seasons of seeming pause, knowing that there is teaching within them. Walking closely by God’s side, He taught me what needed to be adjusted and strengthened me so I could continue onto the next chapter in the story He was writing. And He was doing the same with Ben.
Our pastor, Nirup Alphonse, was recently out one Sunday and my dear friend Crystal Woodman Miller preached in his place while he healed. I promised Crystal I’d sit in the front row and both pray for her and cheer her on. Instead, it felt as if I needed to sit in that front row because it was vital I had zero distraction while the Lord used her to remind me what He was already prompting. What she said lined up so well with what I had already typed within the pages of this chapter that I dashed home and hopped on my computer to keep writing as thoughts spilled out.
If you are breathing, it is not without reason and possibility that Jesus can choose you and change you.
Crystal Woodman Miller6
As we strive to see honor in small assignments, I think we often assume it’s only the smallish assignments we’ll ever be commissioned to do. As if we are too average to be used and therefore He will pick someone better, someone more qualified for the bigger purpose or callings. I’m betting each of us can think of a dozen people with more background, experience, and aptitude for anything the Lord could possibly ask and require. Whatever it is, we think there is someone who could do it better.
But listen up, because this is important: if you’re living life with a “Put me in, Coach!” mentality, He will absolutely put you in. Not because you know every play and are so amazing He’d be dumb not to … but because you know you don’t, yet you’re willing to go in anyway. The fact that I’m using even a rudimentary sports analogy is hilarious because I’m just not a sports girl. In fact, I’m the type who only loves football season because it’s a chance to cuddle up to my husband on the couch and read while he watches. But you get what I’m saying, right?
It’s how our hearts are positioned that matters more than the experience on our résumé. God uses the ordinary person, the average Joe and Jane. He will use us not because we have the ability, but He will give us the ability because He wants to use us.
He will use us not because we have the ability, but He will give us the ability because He wants to use us.
As plain ol’ us yields to His divine plan, His glory and power are displayed. Thing is, just because our hand is raised and we bounce in our seats with an impatient and high-strung, “Ooh ooh ooh! Choose me! Choose ME!” disposition, it doesn’t mean He will deem us prepared. It’s a dichotomy, isn’t it? The validity and certainty of “the same God who chooses us is the same God who equips us,” as Crystal reminded me that morning. But what we need to remember is the equipping is sometimes a longer process than we want or think it should be. The moment the assignment or calling is given isn’t typically the same moment we step into it.