By Kayla Zopfi
With less than a month until my Lutheran Volunteer Corps year of service concludes, I cannot seem to go more than 12 hours without being asked the question, “So, what’s next for you?”
As an Enneagram 3, I cringe each time I have to admit that I don’t have anything lined up yet. My response has typically been “Good question! I’m not sure yet. If you have any leads let me know.” This typically gets people to wish me well and then move on to whatever point of order is next in the conversation.
“I want my vocational trajectory to always center around building better communities.”
While I don’t know what my next job title will be, I do know a few things: I want my vocational trajectory to always center around building better communities. I am deeply curious and love learning. And, if I ever am in a position where hiring people is within my jurisdiction, I will not require a master’s degree or five-to-seven years of experience for entry-level jobs.
THOUGH I’VE HAD a complicated relationship with finding ways to pray that feel authentic to me and my theology, working at the synod this year has given me great opportunities to see prayer modeled. Recently, I’ve been trying my hand at writing prayers for myself — for my gratitude, for my anxiety, for my scouring-to-find-a-job-that-feels-perfect.
Many people are in my situation, or in a similar one. So, I share this prayer with you — those who are recently post-grad, those who are in between work, those who are dissatisfied in their current role, those who have unexpectedly stumbled upon an opportunity that lit a spark in your soul.
Let us pray.
God of self worth, sit with us.
As we meticulously edit our cover letters,
Google new adjectives for our resumes,
And click ‘submit’ on job applications that feel like
Step One of making our dreams a reality.
You know our hearts.
Remind us, as we stare in the mirror nitpicking at insecurities,
As we stare at the job titles of our LinkedIn connections,
As we stare at the entirety of our life’s work on two sheets of paper,
That our worth comes not from what we do but from our very existence.
Just as you made the stars and the moon, you made us—bright, bold.
Forgive us for using cheap theology,
Because sometimes the only thing that makes us feel better
Is repeating corny phrases we were taught in our first Sunday School class.
We know you are bigger than our personifications could ever begin to muster.
Creator, hold us.
Keep our feet steady on the ground and our hearts turned towards the light.
The waiting feels unbearable, but you have ordained each moment of it.
Remind us that we are free to rest.
Amen.