Okay, so my timing isn't great. I mean for me. It's 8:10 pm, and I'm still sitting in my office, trying to dig out from several days of orientation related emails, voicemails, post-it notes... And of course, tonight, for the first time in what seems like forever, I feel compelled to write. Well, it may not be great, but it is pretty textbook me. And really, the timing is probably more like just about right.
It's busy season around here, and I do mean busy. Orientation programming is upon us, and we've got 600-some students coming to campus on Saturday and Sunday, and somehow this campus expects me to do something with them. Something fun. Something meaningful. Something that will keep them here. No pressure, right? I've come to embrace the challenge, the first year, out of ignorance, and every subsequent year, out of stubbornness.
As can have a tendency to happen around this time of year, I go from highs to lows and back again. Who knew Orientation planning could be such an emotional experience? The students have been doing great, and if I do say so myself, I've even been doing pretty great. (It is possible that in the past, I've been good for at least one major meltdown, usually embarrassingly in front of students that look to me for guidance and a plan and a general lack of panic.) But today, someone called me with an asinine request for this particular time of year, and though I handled it okay in the moment, the emotional backlash for me was generally unpleasant. I immediately fell into a deep hole of self-pity, wallowing in the fact that I don't get paid enough and that certainly no one understands even one iota of what I do, so unfair, so exhausting, blah, blah, blah.
Here's the thing. It's mostly true. People don't really have a great grasp on what I do for a living, but generally speaking, it's viewed favorably. That's a win. I am probably somewhat underpaid, but to be fair, I do a lot of things that probably were never asked of me to complete my job. Here's the real thing. I can't not do what I do. I've lost a few of you here, I know. Let me explain. I've been given this job. I've been given my gifts of masterful detail managing, beautiful big picture viewing, people skills (and yes, I do sometimes consider intimidation a gift), multitasking skills, stress management skills, spreadsheet skills (can that be considered a spiritual gift? sure.), and a love of people that makes all of the other skills worth having. I do all that I do because God has given it to me to do. I love God with every fiber of my being, with every chaotic moment of the day, with every success cheer and disappointment tear. I love God. And that love makes me want to do more, use my gifts more, fight more for good. Do I have to do it to please Him? No. He is pleased with me just because He made me. But He made me with these gifts, and out of gratitude I do my best to honor Him with the good stewardship of those gifts.
I don't need money, though it's nice to pay the bills, and you know, eat. I don't need recognition. In fact, sometimes the lack of recognition is a signal to me that things are going so well that my work doesn't even seem like work (you'll just have to trust me that it really is a lot of work). I don't need people to even really see what I do to make it worth doing. I just want to love God. The work that I do is not always easy. Some would even argue that the work I do seems downright torturous and terrible. And frankly, some days, maybe it is a little. We weren't promised easy living. We weren't even promised pure joy in our gift-sharing. Sometimes using my gifts is more like sacrifice, more like pain, a little more like suffering. But it still brings glory to God. And that's why I keep pushing, keep working so hard. I can't not. I am inspired to it.
So, I climb back out of the pity-party pit. I brush off the dust, and I get back to the work that God has given me to do with the gifts He has granted me to do it with. Glory to God.
Having gifts that differ according to the
grace given to us, let us use them… (Romans 12:6)
