Sometimes Life Looks Different Than You Expect (Plus, a Major Life Update)

We took this photo on the top of Independence Pass last June, during our honeymoon trip to Colorado. Charles and I were blissfully happy (I mean, hello, it’s our honeymoon), and married life seemed to be going exactly as we hoped and planned. Little did we know what was to come when we returned to Tennessee.

Charles accepted a job working nights—we were thrilled for the opportunity for him, despite our different schedules. We certainly made the best decision at the time for the two of us. We moved into a new place in the city of Nashville, and shortly thereafter we found out we were expecting. Everything felt exciting and wonderful.

What we didn’t expect was how difficult the next 16 months would be. His night shift job became more and more demanding, with some weeks topping out at 80 hours. Sunday to Thursday, we passed each other like ships in the night, and our weekends were reduced to a few exhausted hours together. We struggled to make friends or community within our church, and we were unable to join the groups or classes that we desired to because of our schedule. Holidays and vacation time were almost nonexistent.

We knew we were still blessed in countless ways. Both in good health, with jobs, an apartment, and plenty of food to eat. Plus a baby on the way! We tried to focus on all the gifts in our life, rather than dwell on the negatives.

Yet the truth is that we were processing through our own version of suffering. We were learning what life looked like when it didn’t go according to plan. You know: When you think you’re driving on a straightaway with the windows down, the sun shining, and no other cars around, and instead you’re stuck in a traffic jam on a stormy day, facing flat tires and engine problems and detour after detour with no end in sight.

And then once our son was born, I felt incredibly joyful—I think God revealed His true purpose for me in motherhood—but also more overwhelmed than I admitted at the time. My hormones were up and down. I was exhausted physically and mentally. I worried about my son all the time. In fact, I didn’t sleep at all the first night home from the hospital out of fear something might happen to him. I wasn’t exactly depressed, but I was definitely dealing with baby blues.

Charles and I both knew something had to change. He’d been searching for jobs since before the baby was born. We kept praying and praying and praying God would change our situation.

The months went on, and I continued processing. I wrestled with what it meant to be a stay-at-home mom, when my identity had been wrapped up in career and achievements my whole life. I felt lonelier that I had in a long time, and I didn’t quite know how to express that to people. I just wanted them to be there for me. Then there was the anger. Oh, the anger. I’ve never really been an angry person, but suddenly I was mad, a lot. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I was mad at God.

Lord, why is this our situation? Why does everything have to feel so hard?

And Charles was going through a lot of his own processing, too. Sleep deprivation will do a number on you—not to mention, he rarely saw the light of day, or anything, really, outside the four walls of his workplace.

But God has taught us more through this season than we anticipated. He’s shown us that He is always faithful, always loving, and always good. We’ve pressed into Him when we didn’t know what else to do. We’ve cried out to Him with literal tears and shouts. He’s grown our faith in areas we didn’t know we needed, and He’s reminded us that He is forever after His glory.

I’ve learned I’m not the only one who’s faced difficult situations. I have friends whose husbands work equally long hours, friends whose husbands travel all week, and friends whose husbands have been deployed in the Middle East. I have friends who are longing for a husband or a child and are probably reading this thinking I shouldn’t complain. (They’re right.) I have friends who’ve struggled with infertility or miscarriage. Friends who are walking through depression, anxiety, and grief. Friends with cancer diagnoses. Autoimmune disease. Addiction. The list goes on.

I’ve learned there are people all around us and all over the world who are struggling. Everyone is going through something. We have no idea what people might be experiencing, and we all owe each other a bit of grace and the love of Christ.

Through all of this, I now have a greater understanding that sometimes God allows His people to suffer to bring us closer to Him.

“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we areyet he did not sin.”

— Hebrews 4:15

He wants our whole hearts and our dependence on Him. He wants our ultimate good and His glory. Through suffering, we see that He is God, and we are not. He is in control. Our suffering allows us to empathize with others. It makes us more like Him. When we are suffering, we are reminded of what Christ went through on the Cross for us. We have a great high priest who was tempted in every way, who suffered more than we ever will so that we can have eternal life. We can trust Him in all situations.

“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.”

— Psalm 139:13-14

If you take anything away from this blog post, please let it be that. You are not alone in whatever you’re walking through. You have a Savior who knows you and who knit you together in your mother’s womb. He created you with great purpose. Jesus really does love you, and He wants a real relationship with You.

Will you trust Him?

Trusting in God is the only thing that got us through these past months. I honestly don’t know how our marriage would have survived without our shared foundation of faith in Christ. I know there will be trials in the future, too, but I can say with confidence that God will be with us in them.

And so, after many tears, much prayer, and now wonderful thanksgiving, we can confidently say God has brought us into a new season.

He’s given Charles a new job, and our family is about to get a fresh start. We are moving to Denver, Colorado!

The photo at the top of this blog post has been the background on our computer since our honeymoon. It’s a picture that makes us happy every time we look at it and gave us hope that things would turn around again. We had no idea that God would actually send us out west, to the same state that photo was taken.

We are so excited to begin this new chapter in Colorado. We cannot praise God enough. Thank you for all your prayers and encouragement along the way.

Now onto the Rocky Mountain State!

I Want To Make My Name Known

Last week the Forbes 30 Under 30 list came out. I saw all the tweets, Facebook posts, and LinkedIn statuses. I read through the multiple lists (yes, there are more than one), and I made a mental note of all the young women in media, marketing, communications, and tech. The 25-year-old head of marketing at a rising company. The 28-year-old co-creators of a brilliant email newsletter. The 18-year-old founder of a magazine.

They’ve done so much in their short lives. They made the cut. They’ve been recognized and carved into history.

My heart so badly desires what these under-30s have: acknowledgement, approval, achievement, success, influence. They are making an impact, and the world knows about it. Forbes makes sure you’re aware of it:

“From an initial screening list of more than 15,000 of the best of the best, the 600 women and men featured in the Forbes fifth annual 30 Under 30 are America’s most important young entrepreneurs, creative leaders and brightest stars. Name a business sector, social issue or essential institution, they are taking it on and changing the rules of the game– or creating entirely new playbooks.”

In the past, youth was a handicap to professional success. Getting older meant more resources, more knowledge, more money. No more. Those who grew up in the tech age have way bigger ambitions—perfectly suited to the dynamic, entrepreneurial and impatient digital world they grew up in. If you want to change the world, being under 30 is now an advantage.”

I want to change the world and be one of America’s brightest stars, too.

How can I do that?

How am I going to get there?

I’ve got approximately four years left to make the cut…

The wheels start turning. I begin to get a bit anxious. I look at my own life and feel suddenly inadequate. I need to do more, work harder, make moves!

These movers and shakers have made their names known. I want to make my name known.

Maggie Niemiec.

Published author. Blogger. Expert Marketer. Social Media Strategist. Influencer.

I want to see my name in lights—on bookstore shelves and computer screens and Instagram follow lists.

And then it hit me: I wasn’t made to make my name known.

No.

I was made to make His name known.

Jesus.

The son of God who was 30 years old when he started his ministry. He was about 33 years old when he died for our sins, saving all of humanity from death if they simply believe.

Jesus wouldn’t have made the 30-Under-30 list.

He also wouldn’t have wanted to. He lived a life of obedience in order to exalt His Father and bring glory to the kingdom.

“Jesus, who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross! Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”

— Philippians 2

I let that truth wash over me. I’m ambitious and driven. I like to set goals and achieve them. I bet if you're reading this right now, you can probably relate. As Millennials, we may be a part of the selfie generation, known for self-absorption and binge-watching. But we’re also a generation who's witnessed 9/11 and an economic recession firsthand—we’re deeply optimistic and we work hard, believing we can achieve whatever we conceive. These qualities are not inherently bad. We should work hard and work well. We should have dreams.

Except for me, my heart bends much too quickly toward the ever-elusive “success” and away from Christ. I give a lot of weight (like, a lot) to my perceived recognition in the world. I didn’t see the extent of my ambition and approval-longing until recently. That Forbes list stirred something deep within me and reminded me, Oh wow this is where my struggles with body image and perfectionism are actually rooted. In being known and successful and admired.

But these things that I desire are never going to fully satisfy. There will always be another rung of the ladder to climb, another accolade to achieve, another way to improve. The definition of success will continue to evolve—I know because it already has. 

What if I started to make his name known instead? 

To acknowledge the names of these 30-Under-30ers, acknowledge my own name and my own goals, and know that ultimately the name Jesus is above them all.

I want to start viewing my life and viewing my dreams in light of what really matters. I’m getting there. I’ve come a long way since college and first moving to New York City. I’ll have to keep admitting to you, dear readers, that my natural inclination is toward my own success and fame. I still want to make an impact with my words. I want to write a best-selling book, give a TED Talk, and speak to young women about my life and my faith. If I’m honest, I still want those things badly. Except they’re not my everything anymore.

I’m learning to release the white-knuckle grip I’ve had on my plans and goals. I’m trying to live in a way that makes Him known. To cultivate humility, meekness, patience, obedience. These aren’t usually the qualities you read in a 30-Under-30 listing. But I think they’re the qualities that lead to something so much better than what the world tells us is worth living for.

In the words of Frances Chan, I don’t want to “stand before a holy God and rob Him of the glory that was rightfully His.”

I’d like to take a step back from my own striving and goal-checking-off. I’d like to practice surrendering a bit more. I’m going to pray for a humble heart and the ability to remember, at the end of the day, it’s not about me at all. Life just isn’t about my success or whether my name sits on a bookshelf. I’m so glad I have sweet friends who remind me of this on a daily basis. 

So I hope this blog—whether it has 1 view or 1 million views—is a light for you. But more than that, I hope when you read my posts, you walk away thinking of Him, not of me.

Leadership Workshops Got Me Like Whoa

You are the author of your life.

You must envision your life, create the design, and make it happen.

You hold all the power.

I couldn’t help but hesitate when I heard those words during a leadership workshop this week. The career coach leading the session explained how we must be the leaders of our own lives. She said we must make moves to achieve our dreams, and we must recognize our power to do whatever we want. That it’s ultimately up to us.

If I’m honest, everything this woman was saying is my default mode. I set goals, I make them happen, and then I keep striving for more. Hell, that’s how I got to New York City in the first place. I landed internships, I networked like mad, and I worked (and worked and worked) until I landed a job and was able to relocate here. I saw myself as a writer and editor in the Big Apple, and I made it happen.

But did I really?

How much of my life is really my own doing, and how much of it is the Lord’s path for me?

This is something I legitimately struggle with. I feel like I need to have a plan. I need to figure it all out. The longer I sat in this leadership workshop, the more my anxiety level went up. Everyone volunteered their visions for the future. They shared what they’re doing to further their careers and to truly make an impact in the workplace.

Shoot, what is my plan? Where am I going with my life? Am I really called to New York City? Am I doing what I’m supposed to be doing? What’s next for me?

If I had to guess, I would venture to say that I’m not the only 20-something with these thoughts. In fact, I bet there are 30-somethings, 40-somethings, and soon-to-be retirees going through the exact same thought process. It’s that culturally pervasive do-more, be-more mentality.

The leadership workshop brought up some good points, for sure. It’s important to think about the future and what I desire professionally and personally. I do think I can take a more active role in my job and invest in the work I’m doing. Even if it’s not where I envisioned myself, I can still embrace it and show up giving 100 percent every day. Doing so is a service to my coworkers, my company, and to God.

I have to balance working toward goals with surrendering my will to the Lord’s. I’m still learning how to do this. Because, yes, I want a fulfilling career--but when this career coach asked me precisely what that looks like, I couldn’t quite answer. I’m trying to navigate life one step at a time. I want to do good work and consider my future, yet keep my hands open to what else might come my way.

We are given free will and the opportunity to set goals. We can envision our lives, and I think there’s plenty of goodness that comes with that. I desire a fulfilling career, a thriving blog, and a way to minister to women. I desire a husband and a family. I desire health and happiness, a strong community around me, and an ever-deepening relationship with God. I can envision all of these things.

My tendency is to white-knuckle grip my hopes and dreams. And that's what this workshop made me think, that I need to make my dreams more quantifiable and then make them happen already. Except circumstances can change. When life looks different than I expected, I really struggle. For the first season of my life, I’m not exactly clear where I’m going professionally or what the next step should be. And maybe that’s a really good thing.

Maybe for the first time I’m being forced to surrender, forced to recognize I don’t hold all the cards.

I have often felt like I need to justify my existence and make my life count. For me, this longing usually shows up in the areas of career and relationships. I have this deep-rooted sense that these things will make my life complete. They will allow me to look back on the life I’ve lived with a sense of satisfaction. I need these things.

In the ever-wise words of Tim Keller:

“Everybody needs to feel that they’re doing something that justifies them being here. I feel I need to earn my stay. I feel I need to say, ‘Here’s why my life counts. Here’s why my life is worthwhile. Here’s how I get a sense of validity and acceptability.’

If you really really believe what you know in your head about free justification, would you be anxious? Won’t you admit that in many cases your wealth isn’t just your wealth, your beauty isn’t just your beauty, your youth isn’t just your youth, your family isn’t just your family. They’re your righteousness. But now a perfect righteousness is revealed apart from the law of performance. It’s a righteousness that comes to you, and it’s the end of your struggle.”

Can I get an amen for free justification by faith?

My life is justified and I'm made righteous by faith alone. That's grace, and that's the most wonderful gift there is. 

We can only control so much. There’s nothing inherently wrong with having desires and visions for the future. In fact, I think God wants us to dream big! The key is to hold those dreams loosely. Because as much as I love gripping the pen in my hand, the author of my life is someone way more powerful and knowledgeable than I am. He’s writing the story, and He promises to make it a darn good one.

Hey, Girl, It's Time To Let Go Of That Pride

Guys, I’ve been struggling to write this post for two weeks now. I’ve been going over and over what exactly I want to write, and it’s been harder to write than some of my other posts. I want it to sound eloquent, and I want you to think I’m a great writer. And the fact that that’s the case really speaks to the topic itself.

Today I’m talking about pride, something I’ve never in my life thought I struggled with. Truth be told, I usually shrugged off pride as a male problem. Surely, I don’t deal with that. I’m confident, yes, but I am modest and humble.

Or so I thought.

“pride (n.): the quality of state of being proud: as delight or elation arising from some act, possession, or relationship”

When your outer self and inner self are in competition, it’s time to take a step back and evaluate where your heart is at. I’m full of modesty and humility—on the outside. On the inside, a swelling sense of pride has bubbled up, and I didn’t know it even existed until very recently. In the past month I have noticed just how much pride plays out in my work and my career, and even in my ability to call myself a New Yorker. I’m a prideful person, and I have been too proud to really see that or admit that until now.

You see, for most of my life, I’ve been working toward a career in journalism and magazines. I received a journalism degree from a world-renowned program, I completed multiple internships, and I worked (and worked and worked) so I could land an editorial job at a magazine in New York City. I left my small and comfortable suburban home and moved to the big city. I relished this place for its high energy and for the sheer volume of busy, career-driven people surrounding me every day. I began to climb the ladder. I was the girl who could not only handle New York City but who could thrive here. I had an impressive and glamorous job to show for it. Magazine editor. I really liked the sound of that.

I moved from a print magazine to a digital magazine, where I received a title upgrade and extra responsibility to boot. I worked closely with the editor-in-chief. Much was expected of me, and I grew to love having people rely on me. They demanded a lot of me. As a major force at this small startup, I worked longer hours with more items on my to-do list—and more at stake—than ever before.

In other words: I made it, and I am awesome.

I was living out my long-desired dream to be a magazine editor. I was the girl that I wanted to be, but that confidence was less about who I am as a person and more about my title and my status. I was blind at the time to how much I enjoyed the look of my life. I got a lot of fulfillment from my work. Too much so. That fulfillment meant I was in a good place with trusting the Lord and His plan for my life.

But eventually I got tired. More than tired, actually. I was exhausted. My mom came to visit me during this season, and she told me she had never seen me so worn out. “A 24-year-old just shouldn’t be this stressed,” she said. She was right. I was burned out in my magazine position, and I was incredibly frustrated by the crazy number of layoffs (for even the most seasoned staffers) and restructuring I’d seen in the publishing industry. 

So I spent months praying and thinking about what would be next for me. I prayed for a position with regular hours, benefits, vacation time, and more stability. And by the time summer came around, a new opportunity arose in a corporate job where I could do communications work but have a better work/life balance. When I was officially offered the position, I prayed through it and accepted with excitement and hope.

Fast forward four months. I am able to leave the office around 5 or 5:30 p.m. and work stays at work. I have more free time and more time away from work than I’ve ever had before in New York City. Yet I feel bad about it. I feel as though I need to be doing more, working harder, and working longer in order to be fulfilled. In order to be worthy. 

I miss the creative freedom and artistic expression I had when working at magazines and websites. I am in a corporate job now, so it makes sense that the transition is something I need to get used to. But, really, this hollowness is more than missing creativity. It's because I miss being in-demand. I miss the hustle and bustle, the busyness, and the stress. I miss being able to tell people I work at X magazine and then watch as their eyes light up with recognition and impressiveness. I miss my title: I’m no longer Maggie the magazine editor, the person I strove to be for a very long time.

Magazines are the reason I came to New York City to begin with. They’re the only job I’ve ever known. And I am good at writing and editing. I understand the magazine world and have experience in it. I never planned to leave it. In the four months since doing so, my pride has reared its ugly head. I lost my self-assurance and my steadfast trust in His plan. 

As I was reading Scripture last night, I opened to a passage in 1 Corinthians. I think God knew I was working on this blog post and led me to the words that I needed to be reminded of:

“Brothers and sisters, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. God chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things—and the things that are not—to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him. It is because of him that you are in Christ Jesus, who has become for us wisdom from God—that is, our righteousness, holiness and redemption. Therefore, as it is written: “Let the one who boasts boast in the Lord.”

— 1 Corinthians 1:26-31

Any lack of fulfillment I feel isn’t because of my work itself but because my identity is still wrapped up in my job and my career. It’s because I’ve been wanting to do big things, to exceed expectations, to fulfill my potential as a writer and editor. For so long, I’ve wanted to bring glory to my name, rather than boast in the Lord.

It’s time to change that.

Pride is a socially acceptable sin. To much of the outside world, it looks like a really good thing, as it can so easily be masked as hard work, self-confidence, or the pursuit of vocation. I’m so grateful that God has revealed a deep, damaging pride hidden within me.

I am also grateful that God has answered my prayers with this new job—giving me work/life balance and time to truly rest and press into Him. He has provided so graciously and abundantly, giving me space to invest in community and this blog. These are gifts I don't take for granted, and they're gifts that may end up worth a lot more than unbounded artistic expression in the workplace.

The Lord has put me in a job where I can no longer derive all my fulfillment. And what a good thing that is! Work cannot be my identity, nor can any possession or relationship. I thought I learned this a long time ago, but as I've seen with this new job, I am far from done with learning. It’s a process. The Lord is stripping away my pride and the delight I take in being impressive. By His grace, He is shifting the source of my worth. He's showing me how lately I have been more excited about Maggie the magazine editor, Maggie the writer, Maggie the journalist, and He's helping me turn my focus to Maggie the child of God. Before I was a writer or an editor or a blogger, the Lord made me His daughter—a title I stand assured in above the rest. Everything else can fall away, but nothing will change my status as His child. And I praise God for that.