How to trust the Father despite our fears

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Part of the He Said, She Said Blog Series By Candace Cain

When I began my career as a dean of students 25 years ago, I couldn’t imagine myself working at a university. But my father helped me overcome my fear, helping me to see that this job opportunity was an excellent match!

As a teen convinced of the way of Jesus, I committed to walking through any door God opened. Although this job seemed outside my skill set, the door had surprisingly opened for me. Within my first year as a dean of students, I knew that this job was a fantastic fit. Each semester was a new beginning, another opportunity to impact a life and be impacted.

When fear creeps in

In my 15th year at a previous university where I served as dean, new leadership took over. Unknowingly, we were about to face the financial fight of our institutional lives. Without explanation, we began to say “goodbye” to essential employees every few weeks. My fellow employees were tight-lipped and on edge, and like me, we were all carrying the weight of fear. I desperately prayed for wisdom and courage. I thought I knew this administration? They are friends — but I couldn’t help but think: “Am I the next to go?”

Hearing my dilemma, my adult and often prophetic daughter, told me that I was equipped to take on anything. In fact, she had been nudging me for years to try something new. Still, I couldn’t believe that at age 47, I had anything to offer another organization. 

For several years, I’d practiced being up early and settling into my threadbare, olive green sofa to read, pray and contemplate. I would have my double espresso with cream and chocolate and my dogs would be wedged in on either side of me. I would open the plantation blinds to observe the sunrise, where I could see the squirrels’ busyness in the yard as I meditated on God’s gift of life. That morning, thinking about my work situation created tightness in my chest, which was not a gift I wanted. I did not want to leave work or my friends. I was wondering, “Should I be preemptive and start looking for a new job or just wait things out?”

As I sat gazing out my prayer window, I saw a plastic grocery bag fly through the air and catch on a tree branch in my front yard. The bag was stuck and pulled every which way by the blustery wind. I empathized with the bag: “That’s how I feel — caught by my emotions, being torn in all directions. Should I ask God for a sign? A signal that might help me KNOW whether to stay or leave?” 

This pathetic plastic bag convinced me, so I recounted my situation, even though He had heard it many times. I prayed, “If I am to go, then let the bag be released.” 

Then, I started waiting and watching. 

When fear disappoints

Days later, my daughter was encouraging me to apply at other places, which I did reluctantly. I eventually obtained a few interviews from other universities. I was heartsick about the prospect of moving. Thoughts about the cost, selling my condo, and leaving friends and making new ones, created a swirl of anxiety that I couldn’t quiet. 

Every day, I rushed to my window to see the bag in the tree. Now it was in shreds. “I feel you, plastic grocery bag. I also feel shredded. I cry out within my spirit to God, ‘What’s next?’ ”. I had a fleeting thought that perhaps fear was gripping me, disallowing my ability to trust Him.   

No offer of employment was received, which I believe confirmed why the bag was still in the tree. The situation was worsening at the university. The institution was not paying its vendors. Positions were cut, seemingly crushing the lives of many long-time employees, and there was little communication from the administration about the issues. I finally talked to the people in charge in hopes of some honesty, but none was given.

Driving home one evening, I rounded the corner to see that the bag was gone because the whole tree had been cut down. Unbelievable! How could they cut down my tree with my beloved shredded grocery bag? The condo association sent out a notice saying that the trees were diseased, and they had to cut them down.  

A week later, still perplexed about my plastic grocery bag, my position at the university was cut with no open door in view. I was numb. Now that my fear had transpired, I was empty.

When fear yields to the Father

Then, I heard the Spirit whisper: “Call Dad,” who reminded me that I loved my work at the university. He was surprised at my fear. He told me not to hang on there but to leave immediately, not letting any seed of bitterness grow in me. Thus, instead of remaining for two weeks, I left the next day. I informed my team, shared tears, and picked up my personal things (15 years worth). I left, sat in my car, cried and then drove home.

Calling my daughter to inform her of my demise, she was excited. Like my dad, she reminded me that God would use me, and that the struggle through this practiced fear of letting go was what commitment to Christ meant. “Where did this brilliant young woman come from?” I thought.

Trusting God with our fears forever 

This experience was a monumental point in my life—definitely a marathon and not a sprint.

Letting go took many conversations with God and godly mentors. As I looked at the life of Jesus, I recognized that my identity was not in what I did for a living. Even as Christ-followers, we often succumb to a life stifled by fear. 

It seems crazy now, looking back, that I was so desperate for security and clarity when I know these things are never promised to us. In fact, suffering and change are assured to those of us who look to bring about the reign of God!  

A year later, at a new job in another state, I continued to dwell on Isaiah 43, a go-to verse for me:

I am reminded that God knows our names. So powerful! We will pass through floods and fires, but they will not destroy who we ARE, and that we are LOVED.

Candace is a daughter, caregiver, mother, friend, neighbor, sister, aunt, an insider, an outsider, a mentor, a jester, a student, a doer, a prayer, a story lover, a storyteller, and a rescued, cracked believer. Candace lives in Montgomery, Alabama, with her mom, Jeanne, and two dogs, Pilot and Shiloh. Her day job is in higher education, and alongside that, she is pursuing a neighborhood ministry called Hope House Montgomery.