As sheetrock mud splattered down from the ceiling onto my shirt, I wondered what my teenage self would think if she saw me now. I always wanted to live in a country home in the woods—I just never imagined I’d be the one building it from the ground up.

There are so many skills I’ve added to my life resume as a result of necessity: heavy equipment driver, tractor operator, sawmill board piler, lumber planer, and old wood reclaimer. Oh, and don’t forget frequently operating a drill, jigsaw, tin snip, chop saw, nail gun, and table saw. My teenage self would have never imagined all these skills on my resume!

Then I think about the different seasons I’ve walked through, each one adding pieces to a puzzle I never wanted. A husband who went through cancer. My parents losing their home to fire six months after I was married. My youngest not able to get enough oxygen for the first two years of his life, then followed by surgery. Several personal visits to the hospital or diagnoses I didn’t want to receive.

Our lives never turn out like we expected, do they? I remember being a teenager, dreams of going to college, having a family, and making a good living. Of course, I wanted my life to count and make a difference, but never did I imagine the hard parts.

But it’s those refining moments that make us who we are. Those times when we stare at ourselves in the mirror wondering how we got there. Those life altering decisions that if done right become life “altaring” and completely change the course of our future. Letting that job go. Breaking off that relationship. Quitting that addiction. Asking for help.

These are all parts of our life resume—lists that we wished never existed, yet we have been thoroughly schooled in. My teenage self would gasp if she peeked into the life that became hers as an adult. So many skillsets I never asked for; achievements I wish I hadn’t earned.

But this life resume we each possess is unique. While many experiences were out of our control, many we chose. And the knowledge we now possess came through years of victory and defeat, but also blood, sweat, and tears. So many things we have learned the hard way.

This knowledge and experience is not useless. Just like any skills listed on a resume, these experiences and choices have set us up for the season we are existing in now. They have not disqualified us, as many of us think, but rather qualified us for the job at hand.

As I learned in recovery ministry: God never wastes a hurt—we just need to surrender it. He can redeem the most broken area of our lives and use us to bring him honor and glory if we let him. He can take all the twisted, hard, embarrassing skillsets of our life resume and use them to impact others. He can bring sunshine to the cloudiest days—if we invite him.

Think about your life resume. The good. The bad. The broken. The victorious. Are you actively seeking employment based on your skillset? Are you asking God to use your life to help others? He can do it, if we submit our application and follow up with employment in his kingdom.

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