The Discomfort of Obscurity

I’m at a crossroads right now. With my full-time job as an HR & Marketing Director, I have a very demanding portfolio. I’ve been in this position for almost nine years, and while there have been challenging days and experiences, I enjoy what I do.

My favorite part of human resources is creating, implementing, and onboarding policies. As for marketing, I thoroughly enjoy seeing my vision come to life and the ways people interact with it. The creative process is taxing but also thrilling.

I’m at a crossroads right now because I’ve been writing and publishing consistently for almost two months, and the more I write, the more I realize I need to say. This is a good thing because it means I’ve found and held onto my voice. It has become a challenge because I’ve been having a very difficult time getting my mind to shift on cue from policies, onboarding, and campaigns to honest conversations about the pursuit of purpose, faithful stewardship, and entrepreneurship.

Where I see Made by Lumora going and what I can already see God doing through it requires a bit more intentionality than I’m used to committing to. Intentionality. This is a word that I am most uncomfortable with because there’s no catalyst, no external motivation or inspiration. It only requires that the same decision be made day after day until it becomes second nature.

Again, this isn’t a bad thing, but for someone like me who has grown accustomed to external motivation, this is terrifying. I can see the results of my policies at work. Staff behavior is impacted, outcomes change, and other processes improve. When I create and execute a campaign, the company feels the impact as service requests increase and ultimately so does revenue. There’s no loud round of applause when something I do works, but I do see the evidence of it.

With what I’ve started with Made by Lumora, it’s like I’m operating in a level of obscurity that I’m unaccustomed to.

The Cost of Certainty 

Obscurity is so uncomfortable. I think it’s uncomfortable because notoriety is how we typically measure success. I’m not talking about wanting attention for the sake of popularity. I’m talking about knowing that your efforts are recognized because that validates you and also lets you know that what you’re doing is working.

This is it. Knowing that what you’re doing is working. It's evidence. Validation feels like proof. It’s the reassurance that we’re making progress and that our efforts make a difference. It’s what encourages us to move forward, knowing we’re heading in the right direction.

When this is absent, we’re forced to continue without the comfort and safety of certainty.

I’m about to let you listen in on an internal argument, and hopefully I don’t lose you as I try to figure this out.

What makes obscurity so bad?

I don’t think it is, but I do think this is where motivation comes into play. Am I clawing my way out of it because I want to be seen and popular? Or, have I made up my bed in obscurity and used the busyness of my full-time job as the excuse not to be bold and intentional about using the gift that God has given me to steward?

Faith Without Evidence

As I’m writing this, I’m reflecting on a few people who spent years in the wilderness of obscurity. One person in particular is Moses. Moses spent about 40 years in the wilderness tending sheep. I’m sure this was a strange experience for him, especially since he had spent years prior ruling in the palace with the Egyptians. While life in the wilderness was drastically different from life in Egypt, Moses became content, so much that when faced with God’s presence in the form of a burning bush, he rattled off every reason why he couldn’t do what he was called to.  

What I find interesting about Moses’ objection to God’s call is his fear that people would reject him. Perhaps he wasn’t interested in being famous or known, but he opposed exposure because it could inevitably lead to rejection.

Could fear of rejection be the real issue at play? Is it possible this is the root of my fight with obscurity? I think we’re getting somewhere. But what is the actual fight?

Maybe validation has become so important because it protects me from rejection. As long as people are responding to and recognizing what I’m doing, I don’t have to contend with the idea that people may not want or benefit from what I have to offer.

The other battle is that I  desire to use what He’s given me boldly. I desire to see my voice and my words make an impact, change lives, and guide people to the truth of who God is and the many ways He wants to use them. However, I cannot do this with divided attention. At some point, I’ll need to decide to live out my faith and trust Him in and with the process.

For some people, this conversation is a tough one because it has real, tangible consequences, especially when income is affected. I’m grateful not to have to worry too much about that aspect. What concerns me is the reality that I may likely have to walk away from what I know for sure works, what I’m certain I’m good at, and what I know for a fact yields measured results.

The Question Beneath The Question

This conversation is about to take a turn that I’ve been avoiding since I started writing this article.

I realize as I’m writing this that the reason I am so fiercely committed to what I do at work is that it gives me an excuse not to be intentional about this. I realize that I refuse to create breathing room because I’ve become addicted to seeing results. I realize that I’ve become obsessed with my work because validation is guaranteed.

The question I’m asking myself now is: is God’s word enough? Is His promise to use what I do enough motivation for me to be faithful, even when it means no one sees or applauds it?  Can He trust me to steward the voice and words He’s given me when He’s the only one who sees the impact it makes?

Obscurity doesn’t last forever. Eventually, Moses left the wilderness and did the impossible. Knowing this, I ask myself, when the applause arrives, can He trust me to remain faithful to His call and not lust after maintaining it?

How I answer these questions determines my next steps.