“It’s a God thing.”
Most of the time when we use that phrase, it’s attached to something that went miraculously well. When we get the job, receive word of healing, or serendipitously find connections and friendships in a new place, we think, “This is a God thing.” And we’re not wrong. It’s wise and beneficial to see good things in our life as gracious gifts from God.
But what about times when a “God thing” is one of the greatest sources of our pain and discomfort?
When Dr. Christin (Wright) Taylor graduated from Indiana Wesleyan University (IWU) with her undergraduate degree, life happened pretty quickly. During her time at IWU, she fell in love with Dwayne Taylor (a Canadian student) and after graduation they got married, after which came several moves to Washington State and California, a master’s degree and the birth of their two children sprinkled throughout their time around the country.
Their next move brought them to a situation that checked a lot of the boxes for their family. Dwayne settled into a job in residence life at Gettysburg College in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, while Christin taught as an adjunct professor in Gettysburg’s English department and established a rhythm of regular writing. Both Taylors cultivated a vibrant practice of friendship and parenting, and were deeply invested in a local congregation they loved.
Many of the ingredients of well-being were aligning for their family: satisfying professional rhythms, deep personal relationships, spiritual community and a city that felt like home. But much of higher education (especially residence life) is transient — unless you advance to another job in the same institution, you find another open position in another university.
“Dwayne’s job in residence life was not yet a job where we could really put down roots,” reflected Christin. “I kind of knew it was coming on the horizon that we were going to have to move. I was kind of in denial, didn’t want to acknowledge it; and he said, ‘Wouldn’t it be great if we moved back to Canada. And I thought, ‘that’s fine, but what would I do there?’”
So, Christin began exploring her options, and — given her desire to earn a terminal degree — decided to explore doctoral programs. “We would be starting over afresh, my kids would be of school-age, and so this really felt like a new start for me,” she reflected. She researched doctoral programs, settled on the University of Waterloo, Waterloo, Ontario, one of the premier programs for her area of intended study, and brought it to Dwayne and said, “If you want to move to Canada, I’d be willing to do this program.”
Coincidentally, Dwayne knew people from a nearby university from his experience in higher education and reached out to make a connection. He found an open position in the university’s Residence Life department. While Christin waited to hear back from the doctoral program at the University of Waterloo, Dwayne applied for a job in Wilfrid Laurier University’s Residence Life department, and related so well with the team that he received a job offer in under an hour after the interview was over.
Dwayne and Christin decided he should say “yes” to the job in Canada and Dwayne accepted the role.
And then, Christin received a rejection from the doctoral program.
And then, received an offer of her dream job as the interim director of their writing center, which — because of their solidified plans to move to Canada — she could not accept.
And then, the reality started to set in that while Dwayne and the children’s citizenship status would enable them to continue work and school uninterrupted, her immigration status would leave her unable to hold external employment for a year.
“It was a total restart for me: socially, emotionally and professionally,” Christin reflected. “And while it was totally the right move to come here, the grief of leaving followed me — starting over with no family, no friends, no church community. I wrestled with God asking, ‘Is he faithful when I feel forgotten?’”
Compounding that sense of forgottenness was Christin’s sense of God’s quiet. Christin’s faith had been shaped by a sense of the real presence of God meeting her throughout her life “in ways as real as any friend,” and yet for two years, it felt like God said nothing — as though God (in the precise moment she needed him to draw near) had gone silent in her grief.
“I remember sitting in the dark and thinking, ‘God, I’m just in your shadow.’ And I sensed the Holy Spirit say to me, ‘But there wouldn’t be a shadow if God wasn’t there … what a beautiful place to be: in the shadow of God.’ But it didn’t always feel beautiful; there were times in those years when it felt dark, and lonely, and confusing,” Christin reflected.
During that season, Dr. Keith Drury — a former professor of Christin’s during her IWU days — reached out and said, “Remember: you’re not a trailing spouse, you’re a trailblazing spouse.” That idea resonated with Christin and helped her find purpose when so much of her life was disrupted. She began putting down roots in her citizenship waiting period: building friendships, connecting with nonprofit advocacy organizations, and establishing rich connections with her kids, teachers and Dwayne, while continuing to apply for doctoral programs. The fog of spiritual darkness began to lift a bit, too — a sense of God’s consolation began to return.
“I remember I was in prayer in a small group, and we were bringing things to God, laying them at his feet,” recalled Christin. “And I (all of a sudden) had an image of myself in the presence of Jesus and was overhearing him speak with the Holy Spirit — and I heard Jesus say, ‘I can’t wait for Christin to see what I have for her next; I’m so excited for her.’ And I thought, ‘Where did that excitement come from?’ And it just felt like a promise to me — a promise I held on to.”
Once Christin got into her doctoral program at University of Waterloo, she began to see how her time in the “waiting room” enriched other dimensions of her life (like friendships, spiritual community, parenting and volunteer advocacy) that helped her approach the increased intensity of a doctoral program with more well-being and confidence. While that realization didn’t diminish the pain of the waiting, it helped her see how painful patience forces us to examine our life, evaluate our values, and cultivate habits that ground us in grace, even when we feel limited control over our trajectory.
“God is not limited by time, but in our humanity, we have to live through time — and there are ways God is working through time to bring things together for us that are just invisible to us because we’re limited by time,” shared Christin.
After graduating with her Ph. D. in 2021, Christin received a job at Wilfrid Laurier University’s Writing Center, and less than a year later was promoted to be the center’s director. While Christin wouldn’t want to relive her waiting room season, the upshot of that season has been a bevy of healthy habits like spiritual direction, therapy and lament that have served Christin well through the challenges of other seasons she’s lived through.
Undergirding those habits, though, perhaps Christin’s biggest takeaway has been a bedrock trust in God’s work amid the shadows.
“We often look at the sunny side of faith, but the Bible is so much the shadow side of faith,” she said. “I keep coming back to Christianity over and over and over again, because Jesus is the suffering Messiah — and those years when I was in grief and was struggling, it was nothing that Jesus had not felt and experienced too. Is there any other religion that offers us that? A Savior who can not only walk with us through the darkness, but has been through the darkness too, in our stead. That’s why I feel so loyal to Jesus … holding onto Jesus is not holding on to somebody who’s pie in the sky, but to someone who has walked through the dark himself.”
For more stories of those who are hanging onto hope, visit wesleyan.org/hanging-on-to-hope.
Rev. Ethan Linder is the pastor of discipleship at College Wesleyan Church in Marion, Indiana, and contributing editor at The Wesleyan Church’s Education and Clergy Development Division.
