Job Loss: The Adventure of Finding Purpose

It's been about five months since I felt as though my world was crashing down around my ears. When you work in ministry -- really, when you work in any sort of job you love and believe in -- it's so easy to wrap your life's meaning around the work you're doing.

When I accepted the role of morning host at The Family, I thought, this is where I'm meant to be; this is what I'm meant to be doing. I believed I had, finally, found my purpose in life.

The only thing wrong with that was, I already had a purpose in life. More than one. I have a God who loves me. An amazing wife. Four beautiful children. And as much as I gave this idea lip-service, I lived my life as though it was my job that gave me my purpose.

I have finally come to an understanding, and today I was able to put it into words: I am not my job. You are not your job. We weren't put here for a purpose, but for many.

But it took losing my job for me to understand it.

When you lose a job, it can feel as though you've lost your purpose. This is where depression comes from, I think. That hopeless feeling. That now-what-ness. But the truth, the reality, is that this is the beginning of a grand adventure: seeking new purpose -- and learning to recognize the roles you're already filling.

This was never a self-help blog, and Heaven help me if I ever turn it into one. If you're dealing with a major life change, such as job loss, I'm not going to tell you what to do. What I can do is tell you what I'm doing, and if it works for me, hey, maybe you can glean a little something for your own life.

So, for me, step one was recognizing that, indeed, I am on a journey. Step one was to recognize who God has placed in my life, and to ask the big question: why? Could it be that one of my purposes is to be the friend, husband, and father that each of them needs?

Now that I'm at home most of the day, I'm able to help my wife get the kids around for school. This reduces her stress in the morning and helps her get to work in a better state of mind. That's something right there -- and it's not a small thing! I'm able to get stuff done around the house, attempting to create a more pleasant environment for everyone (when I actually, you know, do stuff). I'm able to be here for my kids when they're out of school, and not be the exhausted zombie they used to come home to. I can ask them about their day and truly be able to listen to their answers.

This is Big Stuff. This isn't "passing the time while I wait for the next job" stuff, but truly important, life altering work.

Step Two: I can explore my passions. As a mediaphile, my job did afford me the equipment I needed to work on some of the projects I wanted to... but in order to do so, I had to take more time away from my family. When I lost my job, I discovered I'd gained something (actually my wife pointed it out on day one) that I didn't have before: time. Time is precious, and no matter how much money you have, you can't buy more of it. Equipment is another matter. Equipment was something I could buy.

So now, thanks to an encouraging and understanding spouse, I have both the time and equipment to explore those passions of mine. And I am, and as I do so, I discover more and more ways to use those passion to create purpose. Or, perhaps, to find it.

For a season -- four years, to be exact -- one of my purposes in life was to be an encouraging voice on the radio; to be the person who maybe said just the thing somebody needed to hear at the right time; to offer an ear to my callers and words of prayer when necessary.

That was my purpose -- or one of my purposes -- in life. And now, it isn't. Now, my purpose is to explore all the things God already had for me to do (like being the person my family needs), and to find out what's next.

It's an exciting journey, fraught with surprise and even a little risk. It's not a journey to take lightly, or to take for granted, but even though I haven't -- and may never -- reach a final destination, I can already tell you it's a journey well worth taking.

Unemployment: The End Of Week 1

Last post, I was trying to explain the feeling of unemployment. To give a sense of the immediate personal aftermath and the frantic, hurry-up-and-wait pace of Day One survival mode. What I didn't mention, though, was perhaps the single most important piece of surviving unemployment: support.

When I called my wife, I had no idea what she would say. I knew she'd be sympathetic and loving, but as far as how she'd take the news? I hesitated calling her at work, but knew I didn't want to wait for her to come home tired, to a house full of kids, and then say, "oh, hey, by the way, I'm not going to work tomorrow. Or ever."  So, I dialed, she answered, I stalled with pleasantries, and then dropped the bombshell: "So, I guess I'm going to be looking for a new job..." and held my breath. Would she be frightened? Harried?

What she was, was amazing. "Well," she said after digesting the news, "now you have time to do what you've been wanting to do." And she was right. I could finish a novel, get my house in order and get my home studio ready, really dig into writing and producing my podcasts. We talked about earmarking money for studio equipment.

Yes, the reality is that I will probably, eventually have to get a real job, but even on that score she's 100% in my corner. More so than even I am at times. I told her if neither of these radio jobs I just applied for came through, I'd start looking at things like retail. I knew she'd be happy knowing I was making an effort to support the family. Her response: "We're doing okay. Use this time to find the right job. You belong in radio."

The point is, this could have been one of the worst weeks of my life. Should have been, to be honest. I hadn't only lost a job, but what was, really, the best job I'd ever have, working with the best co-workers I'd ever had, doing something I truly loved. Don't get me wrong: It hasn't been sunshine and pancakes, but my wife has made all the difference.

I've been in that other state of unemployment: That depressed, lethargic unemployment. This was several years ago, before any of my kids were born. I wasn't fired at that time -- I'd left a largely dead-end job to become a freelance videographer, and the truth was, there simply wasn't the work available to keep me afloat. Then, I felt like a failure. This time, what I feel is loved.


And not only by my wife and family, who are all wonderful. God has also blessed us with friends who would do anything for us, and that's a great feeling to have when you're vulnerable. When I announced my unemployment I had at least one offer of a guest room whenever we needed it. Countless invitations to "whatever we can do." I have friends in the industry searching their contacts.

I have support, and because I have support, I don't feel like I've failed. I don't believe it's hopeless. I know that, one way or another, my family and I are going to be okay.

Unemployment: Day 2 Begins

I got fired Monday. Nobody made a big deal. It wasn't a blaze of Rebel DJ Glory. I simply got off the air, got called into a room with the GM and Human Resources and told that my services were no longer required. I was given the option to resign, but let's not kid ourselves, shall we?

I couldn't say anything. I packed my junk: books, CDs, notes from interviewees and listeners and coworkers, various accumulated knick-knacks -- put four years of my life back into my van and headed home.

And then I called my wife, got on the computer, and went into professional DJ mode: sent messages to colleagues and contacts and let them know I'd been shown the door and was now officially, for the first time in over nine years, "on the beach*." I searched radio jobs in the area (my wife has a great job, and moving isn't really an option) and updated my resume. Went outside, quietly celebrated my first ever firing (literally first ever) with a cigar, because it seemed like the thing to do, and prayed that God would show me what His plan was. Applied to two jobs that seemed like a good fit.

Those were my first four hours of unemployment. Things slowed down considerably after that.

Yesterday, my first full day of unemployment, was depressing. It was gray and rainy. My left hand ached with arthritis. I saw the kids off to school, which was nice, grabbed some coffee and... sat. I did manage to get industrious for a little while and went back into "unemployed professional" mode. Which mostly consisted of updating my LinkedIn profile and making contact with more colleagues to inform them of my newfound free agency. In a fit of aggressive optimism, went shopping for interview clothes and found out that if fat guys want dress shirts, we have to pay more than twice what "average" people do. So that was nice. My optimism dwindled swiftly.

Time moves differently when you're unemployed. When you have a job and are merely looking for an upgrade, you understand that job applications take some time to get into the right hands. That they have to be sorted, and gone over, and moved into piles. That it could take weeks before anyone even gets back to you with a "thanks but no thanks" or a "let's talk." In unemployment time, every phone call that isn't from a prospective employer is another reminder that you're waiting. Another reason to ask, "am I good enough?"

Because, no matter how big and strong your ego -- and in this business, they grow them pretty tough. Sampson tough. -- getting fired is a blow, and every minute you're not talking to someone who's telling you that you sound like a great fit for their organization just weakens it that much more.

And that's really what this all boils down to: Getting fired sucks.

Losing a job you loved, with people you truly enjoyed working with -- and getting the news from management you genuinely respect that you're just no longer a fit for their organization -- sucks.

So, it's 4am, the start of my second full day of unemployment.

I should be getting ready for work right now.



*("On The Beach" is a broadcaster euphemism for "unemployed." It... sounds nicer than it is.)