As we stood there stunned, we watched our proprietor walk away. His proud gate suggested that he didn’t seem reluctant or sympathetic in the least.
Was he seriously not fazed by what he had just said to us?
You can either have your job or you can have your God.
He said it so matter of factually; I didn’t believe there was any room for compromise.
My husband and I looked at each other. I searched his eyes; I needed direction: What were we going to do?
He held my hands in his and told me that he would speak with the proprietor tomorrow, prior to the restaurants opening.
From there, we began our shifts—opening duties, greeting guests, selling dinner specials, preparing and serving wheat bread, refilling drinks, running food, quality assurance checks, acknowledging and reacting to problems, handling cooks and involving managers, following up with guests and thanking them, cashing costumers out, cleaning and resetting tables.
Like my husband, I tried to ignore what had just happened. I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t whine, gossip, or complain. I didn’t allow myself to grow angry or bitter.
I did, however, struggle with shaking my anxiety and stopping my fears from running wild in my head. I wasn’t facing this storm with pure joy as I should have been.
I wasn’t “consider[ing] it pure joy, my brothers, whenever [I] face[d this trial], [even though I knew] that the testing of [my] faith develop[ed] perseverance” (James 1:2-3).
For this reason, I had to get away for a minute and recompose myself.
Fortunately enough, I had time to hide. Though, I admit, my hiding made me feel a bit like I have imagined Jonah felt.
I remember standing behind the handicapable door in the restroom, pacing in circles; nervously pulling at my hair; obsessing over how to fix this problem; crying out to the Lord.
Batty (2006) says having an “obsession with getting rid of the problem may cause us to miss what God wants us to learn.”
I needed to stop focusing on what lied before me and move forward. I needed to deal with this hardship. “Life [would] go on, time [would] never stand still, and it rests upon [me] to make the right decision of moving forward.” I didn’t have time to sit in the restroom crying, “dwell[ing] on “what could be” or “what if” circumstances; things are done,” and it was time for me to accept “a new battle scar” (Khan, 2016).
I needed to remember that “God’s power is real and more than adequate. [My] role is to prove to [myself] that [I could] effectively handle God’s power in the context of [my and my husbands] problem” (Batty, 2006).
I needed to look to God, lay it all down at his feet, trust Him, and follow in His steps.
Take your eyes off everything else, and behold the Lamb of God! You need not see anything else, nothing else is worth seeing; but behold Him. See how He takes your guilt, see how he bears it, see how He sinks under it, and yet rises from it, crying, “It is finished.” He gives up the ghost, He is buried, He rises again from the dead because He is accepted of God, and His redeeming work is done. Trust Him, trust Him, trust Him. “Look and live,” is now our nosegay; not “do and live,” but “live and do.” If you ask how you are to live, our answer is look, trust, believe, confide, rest in Christ, and the moment you do so, you are saved. – Spurgeon, 1893