There’s a particular disorientation that comes in vocational transitions. You are neither here nor there. Neither this nor that. Like a caterpillar inside the chrysalis – you’re no longer a crawler, but you’re not yet a flier.
This inbetween feeling that comes with transitions is called liminal space. It is the space of “not yet,” and it can feel really unsettling. Whether the transition is one you chose or one that came crashing into your life without warning, the effect is similar: you lose the old markers of identity before the new ones have formed.
It’s easy in that place to create negative narratives about yourself, questioning your worth, your direction, even your very identity. I know this, because I’ve been there.
We often start telling ourselves stories. Not the kind we’d ever speak aloud at a dinner table, but the quiet, harsh narratives that loop in our minds: I’m falling behind. I should have this figured out by now. Maybe I’ve missed my chance. Maybe I’m not enough.
Over time, those stories can shape how we see ourselves, how we pray, even how we show up with others. They shrink our imagination and tether us to fear. But they aren’t the truest stories about us.
In the wilderness, God is always offering a better narrative. One of trust, formation, and hope. That’s why reframing matters – because the story you tell yourself in transition can either trap you in shame or free you to become.
Here are a few invitations to consider when the harsh stories show up.
That sense of being adrift can be crushing. Without a map, you start to wonder if you’ve made a wrong turn somewhere, or if you’ll ever find your way again.
But “lost” is not the only word for it.
What if you’re not lost, but learning a new landscape?
As Mindy Caliguire writes in Ignite Your Soul: “If God takes you to the desert, go to the desert and learn what the desert has to teach you.”
Think of Abraham leaving his homeland with no GPS coordinates, only a promise. Or the Israelites learning how to follow a pillar of cloud by day and fire by night. The wilderness is not punishment; it is a classroom. And in it, God teaches us a new way of navigating – not by control, but by trust.
That phrase “supposed to” carries a heavy weight. It hints at invisible scorecards kept through family expectations, cultural ideals, or definitions of success that may have little to do with God. It can be exhausting to live under their pressure.
What if this transition is less about what you’re “supposed to” do and more about learning to trust yourself?
Arthur Brooks reminds us that transitions are not about squeezing our skills into the best-fit job. They are invitations to pursue what sparks curiosity and desire. Don’t be afraid to trust your gut – God gave you those desires for a reason.
When Jesus called Peter to leave his nets, He wasn’t just offering a career change; He was inviting him into a life aligned with his truest self.
This story is fueled by urgency and pressure: If I don’t solve this puzzle, I’ll get left behind. It’s as if vocation is a math equation and we’re desperate to find the right answer before time runs out.
But life is not a problem set. It’s a process.
What if this season isn’t about “figuring it out” but about enjoying the process of becoming?
Walt Disney once said his vision for Disneyland was for it to be a place that would never be finished, always changing and growing. Our spiritual formation is the same. We are always unfolding, never complete. The goal is not to solve the puzzle but to live into rhythms of becoming that continually shape us over time.
Paul describes this beautifully: “We are being transformed into His image with ever-increasing glory” (2 Corinthians 3:18). Not finished, but always becoming.
This one cuts deep. In transition, it’s easy to feel inadequate, like everyone else is steady and you’re unraveling. Shame creeps in: I should have this figured out by now.
But what looks like unraveling may actually be the necessary breakdown before a new beginning.
What if you’re not a mess? What if you’re being remade?
Sociologist Margaret Wheatley says, “Life seeks organization, but it uses messes to get there.” The breaking down of one stage creates space for the next. For the caterpillar, losing legs makes room for wings. And if we can allow ourselves the grace to be intentional in the mess, we’ll find that God is shaping us for flight.
When we step into work transitions – whether it’s a promotion, a layoff, a pivot, or retirement – we’re not just crossing into a new job. We’re stepping through a spiritual threshold. These thresholds invite us to trust in new ways, to shed old narratives, and to discover the deeper identity of who we are becoming in God.
They are not easy. But they are sacred.
Transitions may feel like wilderness, but wilderness is where God meets people most tenderly. The chrysalis is not the end of the caterpillar, but the necessary threshold to becoming something new.
If you find yourself in this in-between – between jobs, between callings, between who you were and who you’re becoming – you don’t have to walk it alone. Soul Care’s What’s Next experience is designed to help you pause, listen, and discern God’s invitation in your vocational journey.