Breaking Selfish Pride
Facing the threat of lawsuits, job termination, and a ruined reputation were the best things that ever happened to me.
I can utter those words with a peaceful heart now that I’m removed from the darkest journey of my personal and professional life, but it was a different story several years ago.
In April 2008, I was deeply engrossed in research and activities associated with a doctoral program to further enhance my profession as a public school educator. I had transitioned from classroom teacher to assistant principal and knew the next step in the journey was the coveted title of principal.
I had my professional career all mapped out to the point that I could envision grandiose titles under the United States Department of Education in my twilight years. In my mind, I was an educational powerhouse who could do no wrong.
But those grandiose dreams came to a screeching halt in the spring of 2008, when the family of a student in my school became dissatisfied. The complaints moved beyond “We just don’t like her” to “She struck our child, as evidenced by this bruise!”
The bruise on the child’s back actually came from a tumble on the playground, but the accusation of abuse was out there.
As a Bible-believing woman and a dedicated teacher and administrator, I would never even consider striking a child. I treated students fairly, loved them, listened when they were distraught, and disciplined respectfully when they disobeyed. But abuse? The mention of that word sent shock waves through my system.
A police investigator visited me at school with a long series of questions that drove my blood pressure through the roof. This interrogation was followed by phone calls with school district personnel and attorneys.
The family, besides requesting my dismissal from the school, also threatened to sue me. I was facing criminal charges, lawsuits, and termination at the ripe old age of thirty-five. With no history of legal concerns, I now faced the worst complaint possible.
During this painful season, I couldn’t sleep, eat, think, or speak. I could only cry while friends or family members held me. My broken dreams, hopes, and reputation overwhelmed me to the point that I felt life really wasn’t worth living. All I could do was cry and pray. Many days my prayers were wordless. My agony was so intense that I could only ask God to hold me, love me, and somehow protect me through this horrible storm.
Like Jonah, I wanted to be thrown overboard. I wanted to disappear into the deep waters of confusion and despair and hope that everything was just a really bad nightmare. After all, how could a loving and faithful God allow a good little Baptist girl like me to face such a frightening experience?
Some days I felt like a persecuted Job who never asked for the hardship. Other days, I felt akin to a laughing, skeptical Sarah who doubted God’s ability to do the impossible.
After weeks of investigative work, the good news came that the police saw no evidence of wrongdoing and would not charge me with a crime. Relief. Pure, joyful relief! But this was only the calm before the storm.
Within twenty-four hours, I was summoned to the school district headquarters where I heard, “We don’t think you can cut it anymore. You’re not meeting our expectations. We’re disappointed in you.”
In the blink of an eye, I faced a decision I thought I would never have to face: Walk away from the job that I loved deeply and leave public education, or take a new job within the system as a writer until my contract expired. Option two was a professional demotion, but demotion seemed preferable to unemployment.
How would I explain to all of my colleagues and doctoral program friends why I was no longer in my dream job? How could someone working to obtain the highest degree possible explain that she was no longer “good enough” for this job? And how could I now report to a boss who looked me in the eye and told me I just wasn’t cutting it? How could I endure this change?
The anger, frustration, and pain I felt when I had to kiss all of my professional dreams good-bye and with Christian kindness say, “Sure, I’ll gladly make a professional change. I’ll take the demotion and subsequent pay reduction. I’ll hold my head high and do a good job,” is indescribable.
I made it out of the office and as far as the driver’s seat of my car before I collapsed into a fit of fears and tears.
The days that followed the threats of lawsuits, termination, and a deeply bruised ego are a blur at this point, but they are days that I survived because of the power of a lot of prayer, and not just my own. I had been blessed with a devout mother, father, sister, extended family, and church members who believed that prayer held power. When I couldn’t pray, they interceded for me. They went to their knees daily for me, asking God to make something beautiful out of this mess of my broken life.
In those dark days, it was powerful, on-your-knees kind of prayer that turned a charge of child abuse into a dismissal, a lawsuit into dropped litigation, and a termination into a testimony of God’s provision for my life.
The new, demoted position to support district writing efforts actually offered me the opportunity to engage in rigorous research and writing for educational purposes. With less stress and better hours I could concentrate on finishing my doctoral degree and finding balance in life, even though the paycheck and job title were less impressive. Furthermore, the new position allowed me to develop stronger writing, editing, and data analysis skills, skills that serve me well today.
After four years as a writer, I was able to join an international education company. The demotion that I thought ended my professional success was God’s first building block for future financial blessing and professional satisfaction.
But more important, the painful journey was God’s plan at its finest—the first stepping-stone toward becoming a deeper, devout, radically changed believer who finally grasped the power and purpose of prayer.
During this season I came to a new understanding of Jesus during the final hours of His life. Mark 14:35 says Jesus “fell to the ground and prayed.”
Many of us gloss over this part of the crucifixion and resurrection story to get to the “really good part” about the angel and the stone. But the “good part” actually starts in that garden of Gethsemane, when Jesus fell to the ground in passionate, purposeful prayer. His season of prayer helped prepare Him for the most agonizing season of life. Prayer helped Him face the ultimate betrayal with grace, dignity, strength, and compassion. Prayer prepared Jesus for the unthinkable.
My painful, life-altering season was nothing compared to what Jesus faced, but like the Savior, I found that my only option, the best option, in the face of false charges and lies was to fall before my Daddy God, asking for strength to put one foot in front of the other.
Although the best part of my story may appear to be how God saved me from false charges of child abuse, permanent termination, and a frightening lawsuit, I learned in time that the best part of the story was the breaking of my selfish pride. Before this journey, I was so wrapped up in myself, my skills, and my experiences that I hadn’t taken time to invite God into my life. God only factored in when I was the most desperate.
These circumstances forced me to look at the woman in the mirror and to question whether, like Jesus, I was praying, “Not my will, but thine be done,” or attempting to be the author of my own story.
The greatest testimony of my journey is that God not only did the impossible with my circumstances but also with me.