I knew what the phone call was about before I answered it.
I had interviewed for an assistant principal position earlier that day, and when the district number showed up on my phone, I was pretty sure I knew what was coming.
I had prayed for this job. I had worked for this job.
Honestly, I had already decorated the office in my head.
Then I heard the “not excited” voice on the other end.
“Hey...Maury.”
You know the voice. It’s the one people use when they’re about to tell you something you don’t want to hear. It’s softer. Slower. Somewhere in the next few sentences, you know the word “unfortunately” is coming.
And it did. I didn’t get the job. I said, “Thanks,” and hung up.
Then I sat there. And sat there.
My students had just left class, so the classroom was empty. I put my head in my hands and didn’t move. I just sat there at my desk. Eventually, the lights went out. And I still just sat there.
The lights were controlled by motion sensors, and apparently sitting completely still while questioning every decision you’ve made in your professional life isn’t enough motion to keep them on.
So there I sat.
In the dark. In my anger. In my sadness. In my disappointment.
It was appropriate.
Because that’s pretty much how I felt.
When God Doesn’t Do What I Asked
Our church is spending seven weeks studying Philippians, and this week we were in Philippians 1:12–30.
Paul was writing from prison.
He was chained to Roman guards around the clock. Those guards rotated throughout the day, which meant Paul kept getting a new person chained to him.
I’m sure the Romans thought Paul was the captive.
Paul apparently saw it differently.
“Now I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that what has happened to me has actually advanced the gospel.” Philippians 1:12
Paul looked at chains and saw an audience.
I looked at a job rejection and saw a dark classroom.
I’m no Paul.
I was mad.
I had gone back to school and earned my master’s degree in educational administration. I had applied for administrative positions. I had interviewed. I had put in the work.
This particular position felt right.
More importantly, I had prayed about it.
A lot.
The problem was that somewhere along the way, I had confused praying about something with God agreeing to it. I wasn’t really praying, “God, Your will be done.” I was praying something closer to, “God, here’s my plan. I’d really appreciate Your signature at the bottom. Appreciate it.”
I believed we were on the same page.
We were not.
“Dad, Are You OK?”
I decided I needed to go home early that day, so I had to pick up my kids after I got the news. Brighton was old enough to sense something was wrong with his Daddy.
“Daddy, are you OK?”
“I’m fine.”
I lied. I wasn’t.
He asked again.
I gave him roughly the same answer. He tilted his head and looked at me from the passenger seat of the car. He had to notice the tears in the corners of my eyes I was trying to hold back.
Kids are pretty good lie detectors when it comes to their parents. He knew.
When I got home, I had a very honest conversation with God. I told Him I was angry. I told Him why I thought I deserved the job. I reminded Him how hard I had worked, as if He had somehow missed that part.
I talked about the money.
I talked about providing for my family.
I talked about what the position would mean.
I talked about feeling overlooked.
God got all of it. He was, of course, there through it all.
I’ve learned that He can handle my honesty, even when my honesty comes in hot.
Eventually, when I ran out of things to say, I was left with a simple realization.
God had never told me yes.
I had told myself yes and expected Him to go along with it.
There’s a big difference.
The Opportunity I Couldn’t See
A couple of weeks later, another opportunity came along.
That position paid more. The schedule was better. It brought me closer to home and gave me more time with the very family I was so worried about providing for.
It also took my career in a direction I hadn’t planned.
Looking back now, I’m incredibly thankful I didn’t get the job I was sitting in that dark classroom mourning.
But I’ve also learned something since then that I didn’t fully understand at the time.
Sometimes the better job doesn’t come. Sometimes the next door doesn’t open. Sometimes God doesn’t show us three weeks later why He said no.
Paul wasn’t telling the Philippians that his imprisonment had worked out because God had freed him and given him something better.
He was still in prison. The chains were still there. The guards were still there.
Paul had simply discovered that his circumstances couldn’t stop God from working through him.
That’s different.
And it’s much harder.
What Are We Trying to Gain?
This wasn’t the first time a job forced me to think about what really mattered.
Before becoming a teacher, I worked in retail management.
I actually liked retail. I was good at it. I enjoyed solving problems and making things run smoothly. I was also making more money than I would make when I left retail to become a teacher. There were opportunities to move up and make even more.
But there was a cost.
I had been moved to a store an hour away from home. I worked on Halloween. I worked on Christmas Day. I worked on New Year’s Day. My oldest child was growing up, and too many times I was watching the highlights in photos or videos instead of being there for the moment.
If you had asked me at 25 what success looked like, financial security would have been pretty high on the list. At 48, I’m beginning to wonder if anybody ever actually feels financially secure. If they do, I’d love to meet them and perhaps borrow some money. I’m kidding. Kinda. My definition of success has changed anyway. These days I’m much more concerned with whether I’m taking care of Karen and the kids, whether I’m a man of God they can depend on, and whether my yes actually means yes and my no means no.
Am I pointing my family toward Jesus?
Those questions matter a lot more to me now. Paul puts it much more simply:
“For me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.” Philippians 1:21
That’s one of those verses that’s easy to put on a T-shirt and much harder to live.
Christians Should Be a Little Weird
Pastor Sam said something Sunday that made me smile.
Christians should be weird. Not that kind of weird.
We should be different.
A few weeks ago, I was at a meeting that had nothing to do with church. There was quite a bit of cursing, and eventually a discussion started getting a little out of hand.
I could feel God prodding me to speak up, but I didn’t want to be weird. But, I finally spoke up. I mentioned my faith and said that cooler heads needed to prevail.
The temperature in the room came down. What I didn’t expect was what happened afterward. That moment led to other conversations about my faith.
I didn’t go into the meeting planning to share the gospel. I didn’t have a sermon tucked in my pocket in case things got rowdy. I just tried to respond in a way consistent with what I say I believe.
Sometimes that’s all it takes.
People are watching how Christians respond when things aren’t going our way. They’re watching how we handle disappointment. They’re watching how we treat people who disagree with us. They’re watching how we respond when everybody else in the room is losing their cool.
They’re watching what happens when the lights go out.
This world doesn’t need Christians who pretend life is always wonderful.
It needs Christians with an authentic faith that still holds when life isn’t.
Temporary Things Make Terrible Masters
Paul eventually tells the Philippians:
“Just one thing: As citizens of heaven, live your life worthy of the gospel of Christ.” Philippians 1:27
Pastor Sam put it this way:
When eternity is your aim, the temporary will lose its influence over you.
I like that.
I’ve spent a lot of my life worrying about temporary things.
Money. Jobs. Titles. Whether people liked me. Whether someone thought I was successful.
I still care what people think about my character. I want people to see me as dependable. I want them to know I’m a man who follows through on what he says.
But I don’t need everybody to like me. That’s progress. Apparently God has been doing some work.
Churches aren’t immune to getting temporary things out of order either.
I once heard about a church that got into a pretty serious argument during a building project.
The issue?
Carpet.
Some people wanted to keep the same color. Others wanted a different color.
People actually became divided over it.
I don’t know what color they eventually chose, but I feel pretty confident nobody is going to arrive in heaven and say, “This is wonderful, but I really think the sanctuary looked better in burgundy.”
We can laugh at that.
Then we can go right back to fighting over our own temporary things.
Paul tells believers to stand firm in one spirit.
Stay together.
Remember what actually matters.
To Die Is Gain
Paul takes the idea even further.
“To live is Christ and to die is gain.”
That second part hits differently as I get older.
I’ve now lost three of my four grandparents. One very recently.
I miss them.
There is sadness in knowing there are conversations I can’t have right now and moments they aren’t here to see. But the reunion keeps that sadness from having the final word.
I believe I will see them again.
I also believe the grandparents I watched grow older, hurt, and experience failing health aren’t dealing with any of that anymore.
They’re whole.
That’s why Paul can talk about death the way he does.
He isn’t saying life doesn’t matter. He’s saying Jesus matters more.
Following Jesus isn’t a guarantee that He’ll make our lives better. We follow Him because He is better than life.
That changes how we look at everything else.
When Their Lights Go Out
I’ve thought several times about Brighton sitting in the car with me after I didn’t get that job.
“Daddy, are you OK?”
He saw me hurting.
My other children have and will see it too.
As much as I’d like to protect them, eventually each of them will have their own dark classroom. They’ll work for something and not get it. Someone will reject them. A plan will fall apart. They’ll pray for something and God’s answer will be no.
Maybe they’ll get the better opportunity three weeks later. Maybe they won’t.
I can’t promise them that everything will work out the way they want. I don’t want to teach them that following Jesus means it will. I want them to remember something better.
God is faithful.
He has never let me down. He’s given me answers I didn’t like. He’s allowed doors to close that I desperately wanted open. He’s taken me places I didn’t plan to go. And I’ve occasionally sat in the dark wondering what in the world He was doing.
But He’s never stopped being faithful.
That’s what I hope my children see when they watch me follow Jesus.
Not a dad who never struggles. Not a dad who always gets it right. A dad who keeps following when he doesn’t understand.
Because when the lights go out, Jesus is still Jesus.
And He is still worth following.
Live It
Think about something in your life right now that isn’t going the way you planned.
Maybe it’s a closed door, a disappointment, a difficult relationship, a career setback, or a prayer that hasn’t been answered the way you hoped.
Be honest with God about it. He can handle the frustration, disappointment, and questions.
Then ask a different question.
Instead of only asking, “God, when are You going to change this?” ask, “God, how can You use me in this?”
You may eventually understand why the door closed.
You may not.
Either way, your circumstances don’t have to keep Christ from working through you.
And take a few minutes to think about what has the most influence over you right now. What’s your chain?
Money? Success? Comfort? Approval? Fear? A title? Being right?
Ask God to help you hold temporary things with a looser grip and keep eternity in view.
Dinner Table Devotional
Read: Philippians 1:12–14, 21, 27
Talk About It:
Have you ever been really disappointed when something didn’t happen the way you wanted? What happened?
Can you think of a time God used something difficult to bring about something good?
What do you think it means when Paul says, “To live is Christ”?
How should following Jesus make us different from the people around us?
When someone watches how we handle a hard situation, what do we want them to learn about our faith?
Pray:
Thank God for being faithful when life goes according to plan and when it doesn’t. Ask Him to help your family recognize opportunities to point others toward Jesus, especially during difficult circumstances. Pray that each of you would hold temporary things loosely and live in a way that shows others that Jesus is worth following.
This is so good, Maury. It speaks to me exactly where I am at today.
Good reminders Maury.