God at Work

On a cold, wintry January morning in 2020, filled with gloomy clouds and the usual smell of stale routine, I dragged my body back to work after the holidays. Packing away my joy and merriment, I walked down the gray, sterile hallway to my office. That same zombie-like walk, wanting today to be my last. It was 9:30 in the morning. The air felt dry. The floor was quiet. The hum of meetings had yet to begin.

As I turned my office doorknob, I heard an instructive, firm voice say, “Pack your bags. You’re leaving.” Startled, I quickly looked around, heart beating fast, trying to identify the voice’s owner. No one was visibly there.

I thought I might be imagining this moment. And yet I knew I heard what sounded like a clear, audible voice. I couldn’t decipher if the voice came from the outside or inside of me. What I knew for certain was that the voice was not my own. It belonged to someone else. Admittedly, I’m that person who regularly invites God to shape my day. “Morning God! Speak to me today about your plans for me, what you want me to learn and observe. Help me to be more loving and compassionate to those workmates who annoy me.”

I usually don’t expect a direct response. I typically glean spiritual guidance through inaudible sources like books, music, sermons, nature, stories, and serendipitous moments. I finally asked, “God, is that you? Are you talking to me?”  All of this is occurring within seconds. I didn’t waste time waiting for an answer. I whooshed inside my office, grabbed an ivory linen bag from my credenza, and began filling it with small desk items and knick-knacks. At the same time, I scanned my office, hoping God might speak again and offer more context about what was happening. Silence. Except for the clanking of photo frames and books being pushed inside my linen bag.

This mysterious encounter disrupted my typical morning of groaning about commuting every day to a leadership role and culture for which I felt unfit, disconnected, and unengaged. My body knew from that first clammy handshake that it would be a tough, unglamorous assignment. It was the first senior role where I at times felt invisible, muted. I struggled in this soulless work wilderness, moving through the motions, conjuring up the energy to appear engaged, committed. Every day wasn’t drudgery; I had moments when my leadership was valued, welcomed.

But those days were too few compared to my low days. A daily lament was for meaningful, enlivening, and affirming work. Thankfully, most of my career had been just that - joyful, creative work where I performed well, had a positive impact, lived my values, and was surrounded by a supportive team.

I prayed regularly for two years, asking God to release me, to open a new door of opportunity. I wanted to be free of the golden handcuffs -- a well-paying salary, bonus, competitive benefits, and other perks. My prayers were being answered on that cold January morning when I entered my office.

Over the next weeks, I stealthily carried that linen bag home every evening, emptying its contents and taking it to work the next day to fill it all over again with photos, poems, note cards, inspiring quotes, and books. I sensed something was unfolding in my life and in the world around me that I’d soon understand. 

In the meantime, I tossed and turned through sleepless, fitful nights filled with anxiety and fear. Fear of the unknown; what would life look like for a period without a regular paycheck and benefits? I endeavored to apply author Susan Jeffers’s guidance to “Feel the fear and do it anyway.” I wanted to start my own coaching and leadership development practice with a focus on supporting and uplifting women of color leaders like me. I also wanted to help lead diversity, equity, and inclusion initiatives. I didn’t want another job, more handcuffs. 

News about a virus dominated the airways in January and February 2020. A virus that was killing people. By late February, I found the courage and faith to resign from my job. By March 11, the COVID-19 outbreak was declared a global pandemic by the World Health Organization. My last day of work was two days later, Friday, March 13.

At my farewell party, the atmosphere felt eerie and uncertain, as my colleagues ate cake, smiling and wishing me well. We had no idea what was coming. That following Monday, March 16, no one returned to work. Life would never be the same for me or the world as it reckoned with two viruses: COVID and racism. 

In April 2020, my practice, Lead with Heart, was born, coaching women of color to uncover their authentic voice and power. I also advised a number of organizations on what it would look like to create a culture that is diverse, equitable, and inclusive. Sadly, the killing of George Floyd generated a tide of interest in building such cultures. I continued to attract a steady flow of meaningful work thanks to some wonderful business associates, clients, and prayers. A net appeared after I took the leap.

I walked away from this experience with greater confidence that the divine is at work. Literally. In the workplace, supporting us as we navigate the corridors of work life. Helping us to be better people, better servant leaders, parents, and community advocates. I learned that we often discover our deepest and sometimes most painful lessons in the wilderness, where we uncover a lot about ourselves, our beliefs, fears, assumptions, and choices. We learn to wait and have greater faith in the unknown. Martin Luther King said it best: “Faith is taking the first step even when you don’t see the whole staircase.” So, while the path forward may be poorly lit, take the leap anyway – from whatever or whomever – and pray, breathe and have faith that a new door awaits you. 

Footnote

It’s still fresh in my soul the moment I heard God’s voice, more than five years ago, at the door of my office. At the time, my new consultancy focused on helping organizations create a culture much different from the one I was experiencing. Spaces where diversity, equity, and inclusion would be talked about, unpacked, erected, and embodied. Today, the political climate in our country has shifted, and all of this good work is under attack. That saddens me because our democracy is based on everyone having a voice and being seen, not just the rich, powerful, and able-bodied. My prayers are now often threaded with the lament: “Dear God, open the doors of our hearts, particularly those in powerful, influential positions, that we may be aglow with mercy, love, justice, and humility as noted in Micah 6:8. Transform our hearts and thus our systems and policies. Amen.”