Sometimes I hear voices.

Have you ever been fired?

Sometimes I forget that I got fired, many years ago.

Long story short, it was the right thing to happen for all the wrong reasons.

I was let go from my position as the director of a college fellowship group at a church, and by the time my final few weeks with the students came around, the grieving process was effectively debilitating me. I had no idea if I would ever get an opportunity to work with college students again, let alone any idea of whether I would ever have a job again period, so my emotions were running high and unpredictable for the last few weeks of my position. I have few clear memories from those final weeks. I remember feeling like my life after my last day at this job dropped off in front of me like a cliff, and when the ugly realization settled into my gut that my identity and my work were one and the same. I remember a few lucid moments in prayer, and I remember one or two kind words from friends that met me in moments of great sorrow.

And, I remember the night it happened.

It was one of the last meetings of the year for the college group. We met every Tuesday night in one of the lecture halls at UC Davis, and worshipped together as well as heard some teaching. I had been attending this night; as a student first, next as an intern in the college program, then as the director of the program, for over 10 years. And now I could count on one hand the number of nights left that I would participate in, before the group and ministry moved on without me.

I was sitting in a seat on the left hand side of the auditorium, about halfway between the front and back of the lecture hall. More towards the wall than the aisle. My dear friend and colleague, Lyndsey, was sitting next to me. I have no idea who else was around. I don’t even remember the program for the night; who spoke, what the topic or theme was, if there was a game or skit or testimony or other elements.

I mostly remember singing, and sobbing. I remember crying as if my heart was breaking, because it was. I remember asking what felt like hundreds of questions about my future and the students whom I loved so much as I wept and worshipped.

I also remember a voice inside my head that was trying to make sense of it all. It wasn’t a calm voice, or a peaceful voice, or a comforting voice. It was a voice that was constant; sometimes the volume would increase or decrease, but it was always there. Questioning, clarifying, critiquing, judging, evaluating- always with the goal of making me better, teaching me something, improving me.

On this night, I could hear that voice. Quiet at first, like contemplative music. Reminding me that I played a part in my own situation, that I definitely deserved some of the blame for how things went so upside-down in the end. Calling to mind things I’d said or done that lacked grace or professionalism or maturity. Repeating conversations and choices that I wasn’t proud of. Bringing up familiar wounds. Replaying scenes in my head that left me with regret and disdain for my behavior.

This voice in my head became louder and louder. I was feeling shame, condemnation, and despair as I contemplated all the responsibility that I bore for my situation. I was absolutely distraught by my circumstances, and was devastated by the truths of my own culpability and guilt.

I was a hot mess.

And then.

And then, it was as if the voice quieted for just a minute. The accusations lessened just briefly; enough for my spirit to catch a breath. And apparently, that was all it needed, because what happened next remains one of the single most profound moments of my life.

As the voice dimmed slightly, another spoke up.

(No, I’m not schizophrenic. But thank you for breaking the mood. Stay with me.)

This voice was not as well known to me, regrettably. It was softer, more melodious and gentle but not at all weak. I recognized it instantly, despite not being as familiar with it as I was with the previous voice. Whereas I trusted the first voice as the source of all accuracy and fact, this voice, as soon as I heard it, was the truest thing I have ever known. And it spoke; not to me, but to the first voice.

It said, simply: “So What?”

The first voice continued reciting its litany of my wrongs and transgressions.

And then the second voice said more: “Yes. All of that is true. You are right. And, that does not define me.” It went on: “Everything you say is correct. Irrefutable. And, that is not all of who I am. I am not simply the labels and descriptions you have applied. I am more than this.”

We are always more.  More than our circumstances, more than our failures or challenges. You are not defined by your defeats. You are more.

It  is helpful to remember this truth when I am tempted to listen to the first voice, the voice of judgment. Because the Bible says that there is no condemnation for me anywhere anymore, according to verse 1 in chapter 8 of the book of Romans.  I am set free, and I am more. And so are you.

What voice are you listening to?

Are You Leading The Life You Want?