A few years ago, right out of college, I had a job interview at an ad agency.
I walked in thinking, “Okay. This is it. This is my adult moment. I’m about to become a professional person who says things like, ‘Let’s circle back.’”
So I’m in the lobby, and it already feels like I’m underdressed. Everybody walking by looks like they were born holding a leather portfolio. There’s cold brew on tap. There’s a wall with minimalist art that I’m pretty sure costs more than my car at the time.
And while I’m waiting, I’m doing what all of us do in that moment. I’m quietly running the inventory.
Do I look right? Did I shake hands too firmly, or not firmly enough? Is my resume paper too thick? Is that a thing? Why are my palms sweating like I’m about to defuse a bomb?
Then they call my name, and I go into this conference room and sit down across from a couple of people who look very calm. Which is unfair. They’re calm because they already have jobs.
They start asking normal interview questions. “Tell us about yourself.” “What are your strengths?” “Where do you see yourself in five years?”
And I’m trying to answer like a functioning human being, but inside I’m translating everything through one single question: “What do I need to say so you think I’m worth something?” Because that’s what a job interview is, if we’re honest. It’s an hour-long conversation where you’re trying to prove your value. You’re trying to show you belong in the room.
And here’s what’s wild. Even after you get the job, that pressure doesn’t go away. It just shape-shifts. Now you’re trying to prove yourself in performance reviews. You’re trying to prove yourself when someone asks, “So what do you do?” You’re trying to prove yourself when you scroll past somebody else’s life and it looks like they’re doing better than you.
We live like we’re in a constant interview. With the world. With other people. With ourselves.
James has something to say about that. He lines up two people side by side and tells them both to boast, but not in what you’d expect. The lowly person, the one with no platform, no connections, no influence? Boast in your exaltation. You belong to God. You’re an heir of the kingdom. And the rich person? Boast in your humiliation, because the flower of the field blooms and the sun comes up and the hot wind blows and it’s just gone. Not in a week. In hours.
God’s scoreboard is already posted. And it says something that should mess with all of us. The person the world overlooks might be the wealthiest one in the room. And the person with the most might be building their identity on something that’s about to wilt.