My Father's Daughter

Most often, the follow-up to the "What are you doing with your life?" question is the "So, what do you do for a job?" question. Because, in case you were wondering, following Jesus doesn't always pay the bills and this girl's got a degree that she'll be paying off until she's 90. Give or take.

When I left my job at the end of July, I sort of floated for a while. I filled my days with an internship at my church, my evenings with friends and long runs, and took some time to catch up on sleep. To be honest, it was necessary. The past year has been, in a word, difficult - and while I don't have any desire to unpack that here, the time off and reduced schedule was so very necessary for healing body, mind, and soul.

So I rested for a month, worked at church, and finally started applying to jobs. And got rejection letter after rejection letter after rejection letter. Nobody, it seemed, wanted to hire me. Toward the end of September, I started to get nervous. I have never been one to doubt God's provision for me in physical and financial matters, but I was really starting to question whether or not He would show up "on time" - which is to say, before my bank account hit zero.

Then, one Monday morning, I got a job offer. It went a little something like this:

Mom: Jessica! Come downstairs, please!

Me: [grumble, grumble, grumble, stomp, stomp, stomp] Whaaaaaaaaaaat?

Mom: So you still don't have a job?

Me: [grumble, grumble, grumble, way to rub it in, lady] No.

Mom: Well, your father and I would like to hire you at the office. I'm going to be working out of the office more and we need someone to take care of cleaning, invoices, answering the phone, and eventually start doing electrical drawings.

Me: Okay.

Mom: You start Wednesday.

So that is how I came to work 35 hours a week in a dusty machine shop, breathing in particulates that are probably considered carcinogens in the state of California, and picking up lunch orders for the most insatiable carnivores I have ever met.

I joke that my job description is that of "glorified gopher" - but the truth is that I am incredibly blessed. Incredibly blessed to have a job at all, incredibly blessed that my parents have a business that is doing well enough that they can hire me on for a season. It has also been an incredible blessing to have this simple, daily connection with my family again. I was running around at 100 miles per hour for the past year, rarely seeing my parents, the three of us like ships passing in the night or trains passing in the suburbs or... something.

Now, I see my parents every day for hours a day. It is a reminder that I am a part of a unit, something bigger than myself. I am reminded of that every time I pull open the file cabinet and find the files written in no fewer than six different scripts - both parents, plus all of the kids having done their time at the family business over summers or school breaks. I am learning the business. Learning what my father does. Learning what that symbol on an electrical drawing means and how to strip furniture. Learning the inside language of machine building and how to draw up packing slips and invoices.

In short, I am learning to be my father's daughter.

And in all the quiet moments, mundane activities, and challenges that present themselves, I am learning to become my Father's daughter as well.

This season is a blessing on so many levels.

I am trying not to waste it.

Prodigal Daughter Struggles to Understand an Even More Prodigal* Father

I know, dear heart, that your outward trials are painful and bitter. And I know also that the Lord is able to sustain you through them and make you able to stand your ground. O that you could dwell in the knowledge and sense of this: the Lord sees your sufferings with an eye of pity and also is able to achieve some good through them. He is able to bring life and wisdom to you through your trials. He will one day give you dominion over that which grieves and afflicts you.
--Isaac Penington

This is a part of God I'm learning - the compassionate, merciful, loving Father who looks on His children as broken creatures, wanting desperately for them to come near so He can heal them. For so long, I stayed away when I knew I had sinned (or, more accurately, knew I was in the process of sinning), afraid that my time in His presence would meet with condemnation. I was afraid of the Lord's judgment, just as I am afraid of everyone's judgment - afraid of being deemed unworthy. The longer I stay away, the harder it is to come back - I remain afraid of a Father who wants nothing more than to place a ring on my finger, a coat on my back, and throw a party at my return.

I was in prayer with a pastor at my church over the past few weeks regarding things that are going on - discovering the battle that is always going on for my soul, that is trying to draw me away from my calling, and figuring out how to take hold of the power that is already won in Christ to defeat these forces. We talked about what was going on and then started to pray. She told me that the Lord's heart for me was one of compassion and mercy, not condemnation. She seemed almost surprised as she told me that while the Lord wasn't condoning my choices, He understood why I had done what I had done.

I was, and am, astonished. I am still trying to wrap my mind around the idea of a God, a Father, a Husband, a Lover, who accepts me without precondition. Who loved me before the world began and no series of horrid choices on my part can change that. Who has known my destiny since before I was knit together in my mother's womb and has protected me against all forces of evil that would try to keep me from fulfilling that purpose. Mercies new each morning, and even when I stumble and fall, He brings life and wisdom from these mistakes.

I am so unworthy of such a God. And so humbled that He would call me His own.

*prodigal (n.) - excessively lavish, recklessly extravagant