Unemployed = Unwanted?

I have been unemployed twice in my short life. Neither was really my choice. Neither experience was particularly positive, but neither was it completely negative.

I graduated college with a degree on a wonderful December afternoon. A few weeks later I received a job offer from the only company to which I had applied. Two interviews and one job offer. Not very much money, but still I was wanted by people older and smarter than I was. That was a pretty cool feeling.

I was recruited for my next two jobs. I didn’t even apply for them. That’s just crazy, but I was wanted. Me. I wasn’t just filling a spot that needed to be warm. A person I knew and trusted called me and said they trusted me and wanted me, specifically me for a specific job. That was a pretty cool feeling.

Then I was told not to come to work anymore. The current term is “laid off”. I don’t know where that term came from, I didn’t lay around much. Not sure if they expected me to, but if they did, then I didn’t give them that satisfaction. So there. End of this story, I wasn’t good enough for them, they didn’t want me. That was not a cool feeling. As a matter of fact it was depressing.

Anyway, I found another job. Actually, I was offered two jobs. After prayer, pondering, prayer, a lot of talking with hw, conversations with a couple of very close friends and then more praying I chose one. I was wanted. That was a pretty cool feeling. I liked it.

Three jobs later, I was laid off again, kinda. After a couple of conversations with my boss I decided to resign. The place had changed, maybe I had changed. Anyway, I don’t work there anymore. They didn’t want me there. I wasn’t wanted. That was not a cool feeling. Didn’t like it. Still don’t like it.

I don’t think any of us like to be told we are not wanted. It’s kinda demeaning. No, it actually is demeaning.  The problem is that you are fickle. I am fickle. All of us are fickle. We love the new car, until we don’t. We love the new furniture, until we don’t. Some of us love our spouses, until we don’t. We’re fickle. For me, the second problem is that I sometimes look for approval and wantedness from you. You’re fickle.

God is not fickle. I have to consistently remind myself that my worth comes from God. It doesn’t come from you. No matter who you are. Employer? nope. Mom? nope. hw? nope. Sister or brother? nope. Great friend? Nope. Lifelong adversary? Nope.

All of us are fickle, not God. He always wants me. That’s a pretty cool feeling.