227 and Counting!

I’ve been among the ranks of the gainfully (or painfully) unemployed for several months now.

Of course I’ve been on unemployment so money is coming in. But truth is, that’s not what I want. I want a job.

As part of that, I keep an excel spreadsheet with every company I’ve applied to. I list the date, and a link to the job. I do this for auditing purposes in case the unemployment folks want an accounting and to help me remember.

But it can also be a serious downer.

As of today, I’ve submitted resumes or applications for 227 separate positions. Some, I’ve gotten callbacks on. Most have simply disappeared to never be heard from. The ones who have turned me down are highlighted in red. Some are in blue where a decision is being waited on. Eventually, they might go to red.

Now, if you happen to be unlucky enough to be in the boat with me, you would agree the situation can be a serious downer.

I try not to look at the numbers. I’m a little in the position of a ball player. My job is to go up to the plate, shoulder a bat, and try to hit a ball out of the park.

If I think of it that way, I’d have been benched forever.

All I need is one that goes into the stands.

Oh, there’s a lot I can do.

I can tune up my resume.

I can tune up my LinkedIn profile.

I can work on my cover letter.

I can take classes and look at videos to tune up my interviewing skills.

The trouble is, there’s a lot of us up to bat and in many cases, we’re all swinging at the same ball.

After a while, it’s enough to make me want to stay in the dugout and not come out and play.

Ah, but there’s the catch. If I stop swinging, then I’m not a ballplayer anymore.

I’m a victim of depression.

I’ve allowed yourself to stop and asking why I even want to keep trying.

Recently, I found something I know perfectly. I can recite it like words from a play. But my situation has given it fresh meaning.

 God, my shepherd!
    I don’t need a thing.
You have bedded me down in lush meadows,
    you find me quiet pools to drink from.
True to your word,
    you let me catch my breath
    and send me in the right direction.

⁴ Even when the way goes through
    Death Valley,
I’m not afraid
    when you walk at my side.
Your trusty shepherd’s crook
    makes me feel secure.

⁵ You serve me a six-course dinner
    right in front of my enemies.
You revive my drooping head;
    my cup brims with blessing.

(the Message Version)

I’ve read it over and over.

But then, there’s reading it and there’s reading it.

I can read the words on the page.

Or I can read it from a stage.

The former is just reading it and I walk away without remembering much about it.

But if I do it like I was on stage. That’s different. I have to make the reading convincing. I had to reach in, find the fear and then put that into the reading.

“God, the Shepherd!”

It reminds me of what’s going on around me. And it reminds me of my place in all this.

My job is to approach the plate, pick up the bat, and swing at the pitches.

A lot is at stake.

And I’m afraid of what will happen if I don’t get a hit and strike out.

And if I strike out enough, eventually I might not want to leave the dugout.

Sounds like Fear to me.

And its first cousin, Depression.

But it’s really not my job to get the hit.

My job is to swing the ball, and keep my eyes on the one who will connect the bat to the ball.

God give me how to swing on the ball.

And most importantly, the courage to get out of the dugout and approach the plate.

And when I read Psalm 23, I realize there were times David was afraid too. He needed to remind himself who’s really fighting the battle.

Well, we’re going to tear Psalm 23 apart starting tomorrow and look at the coach who’s already won the game for us.

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