A company I had was changing, clients were moving on, the literal and symbolic lease I had was up. I felt like a finish line was imminent. Most importantly, it was one I didn’t necessarily want. I had this sneaking sense of excitement but mostly, the overwhelming feeling that I had failed. 

I find that many times transition masquerades as a failure. It’s a big nasty lie, and I had been caught in it before, but this time I chose something different; embrace the transition. 

The superhighway of easy at this stage would have been to think of all the ways that I had contributed to my situation. Of course, elements of transition are often just a part of life. It was easy for me to ride the ship of comparison with my peers who started at the same time and now have 75 employees as I looked at all my empty desks. It was simple to become a blob of self-condemnation as I thought of some of the choices I made and my hesitance to fully detach my identity from my seeming success.

My inclination (with hard stuff) had always been to brush it off, never speak of it, spin it as a positive, bury it emotionally, or get angry. But, this time I arrested myself to learn rather than lament. It was time to step back from the crater instead of standing in it examining the traumatic details with no perspective. I chose to ascend to an altitude of teachability where the trajectory that caused the event could come into view. 

Seasons with the most pain often become the most transformative. The Holy Spirit was delivering much-needed infrastructure for my heart, soul, and mind.

I said yes to the process so I would learn from the past and the present aspects of my situation. I also chose to talk (yes, it’s ok to do that) about my real-time moments of revelation. Wholeheartedly I knew if didn’t bear-hug this method I’d veer myself away from the redemptive season to come. I'm grateful that I let it happen in all its messy splendor. Freedom came in the form of truth.

I had to admit my fears and face them head on:

  • The fear of indictment for past performance. (guilt)

  • The fear that it is not safe to process. (self-protection) 

  • The fear that my value was diminished. (identity)

  • The fear that my lack of perfection was outside of grace (condemnation)

The vehicle from fear to trust was rooted in being open and real the whole time; staying present when I wanted to retreat. Real time is the best time. The win for me and others is always, "let me tell you how I am growing while I’m mid-sentence in the chapter that is currently being crafted," good or bad. 

Choose bold vulnerability and see how it empowers and engages seasons of change, pain, and transition to bear fruit that will last.