On Being Unemployed. Again.

Right now, life feels a bit like the song “Here I Go Again.” You know, that Whitesnake…um…classic. I have been here before, but previous experience is not making things better.

Welcome, nice people, to another round of the World’s Worst Pastor Unemployment Diary! Thank you to all those who participated in 2019, 2020, and are earning your “Trinity Pin” for showing up in 2024.

Current Mood

Yes, once again I find myself on the wrong end of the unemployment line. I went to a meeting with my boss on Monday, May 20 and walked out with a pink slip. The reason? Administration has decided to go in “a different direction” and “my services are no longer needed.” 

I have no idea what this means. 

Right now, life feels a bit like the song “Here I Go Again.” You know, that Whitesnake…um…classic. I have been here before, but previous experience is not making things better.

Many people have asked the question that I cannot answer:, “What happened?” I was told time and again that I did NOTHING wrong and I did nothing negative that caused this. Yet, I am still out of a job, apparently for no reason. Strange days to be in higher education, for sure.

Those of you who know me are well aware of my inability to keep my mouth shut, particularly when I see injustice happening to people I love. For certain, I love my colleagues, faculty, staff, and students, and I acted accordingly when they were treated unfairly.

I was never mean, cruel, or overly aggressive; and I do not believe I was un-Christlike. Still, perhaps I doth protest too much.

Yet I have no regrets on speaking up or speaking out on behalf of those who have no one to speak for them. When students, faculty, or staff were not treated with respect, I raised my hand and spoke on their behalf, calmly but directly to those in charge. Perhaps my institution believed that this was not the role of a chaplain, although no one ever shared that with me.

I think the exact opposite. If those in ministry refuse to speak for the vulnerable or point out un-Christian behavior of an organization that claims to be Christian, then who will speak for them?. Our calling is to be Christ-like to all, but not to stand idle while people are unfairly and unjustly targeted.

Simply put, I do not suffer gladly “Christians in Name Only” If an institution promotes “Christian values” on the website, then a minister/chaplain for that institution has a responsibility to say when those values are not demonstrated towards the people who truly make it run.

If doing so costs me my job (a speculative guess at best), then so be it. I am content that I did the right thing for the students and people I love. Although a minister should not have to do so, a minister should be willing to run through a wall for others–especially students.

Two valuable lessons–that I should have learned long ago–are emerging from the pain of this incident. 

The first is strictly on me. I tend to throw myself into my work in a variety of ways. Maybe I did not always do the best work, but I certainly gave top effort to my university and especially our students. In multiple semesters, I slept in my office 2-3 nights a week so I could stay for student events. No one owes me anything for that, but one would hope that would encourage some form of loyalty.

It doesn’t. And it won’t. No matter how much you sacrifice for your job or organization–even a Christian one–it will not make them treat you with any more respect. They will get rid of you for any reason, or for no reason. Whenever it is no longer convenient for them to keep you, your “loyalty” will be discarded right along with you. 

Again, zero regrets here. I gave my all for the Lord and for the people on campus who matter the most. I firmly believe that we were making a difference and I am grateful for the opportunity to do so. 

But here’s the thing: no matter how much you love your job, it will not love you back. No matter how much you invest in your work, that investment may not have any direct return, at least to you. Keep that in mind and act accordingly–putting your time, talent, and treasure towards things that are worthy of your finitude (check out the link). Do the “extras” as an investment for the people that matter, but expect nothing in return beyond the satisfaction of being faithful to those you serve.

The second lesson comes from the wisdom of C.S. Lewis in a quote that I wish I knew years ago. “I sat with my anger long enough until she told me her real name was grief.”

The ever-fluctuating world of higher education is leaving behind their ideals and ethics in favor of expediency. It is hurtful and infuriating to lose work that I love, even at a CHrINO institution (Christian In Name Only). 

Needless to say, I am bitter. Someone, for an unknown or unstated or unjustified reason, decided to erase four years of a growing ministry to our campus. Worse yet, they may have done so for some personal picadillo or grievance that they were too cowardly to state out loud. 

Bottom line: yeah, I’m mad.

But maybe I’m not just mad. Maybe, as Lewis says, I recognize my anger as grief. It is a grief that appears to be pointless and directionless, unjustified and unnecessary. That only compounds and prolongs the grief process.

I suspect that those of you out there with that same “anger” might also find out the same thing. Grief is a powerful force that takes many forms, and it may take us some time to recognize it for what it is.

Grief is always a process. One part of moving through that process is recognizing it; and another is naming the grief. Here are the “names” of my grief.

I am grieving for my students, whom I taught and led well. They are brilliant and resilient and they will be fine–but they deserve better.

I am grieving for my friends and colleagues. 

I am grieving for those who found that my office was a welcoming place—no matter their race, religion, gender, or identity.

I grieve for the lost opportunity to elevate students who may be the first in their family to earn a college degree.

I grieve that I cannot help my former school embrace the value of diversity, equity, and inclusion of ALL students.

I grieve for the lost connections and service programs that could help a struggling community.

I grieve for what we built in four years, from the ground up. Again, the school did not have a job description—much less a direction for the Christian leadership program. Together with my students, we took an “eyesore” and evolved into a program with a stellar reputation.

I grieve that I will not get to see these students continue building a solid, welcoming, loving community on campus. 

From the “Silly Selfish” Department: I grieve that I will not get to call the names of graduates with whom I have worked, side by side, for the last four years. That may not be a big deal, but it was certainly an honor to high five and hug students before they made that final climb to the mountaintop.

I do not know how long it will take to work through this grief or move beyond it. The dark thoughts, the nightmares, the foment, and the fear remain very real. But I am reassured by the knowledge that this is indeed grief in its truest form. And I will strive to approach it in faith that seeks both understanding and hope. 

As for what I have lost, I pray that it will become a gain for my colleagues and students. They were already well on the way to becoming the leaders that Jesus called them to be. May they continue on that path as they make a difference and continue to build a community of grace and love.

So What’s Next?

I honestly have no idea. I have resumes and CVs out there all over the place, yet I am in no rush. I have no desire to take a job too quickly and land in another toxic situation. I dealt with those for six years and have NO desire to repeat it.

For now, I am writing, volunteering, reading/studying, and looking for opportunities to preach. I am content to work through this grief process while waiting and watching to see what God has in store.

If you know of a way I can help you, reach out and let me know.