Thursday night, I received the opposite news of what I had hoped for, and, oddly, I’m OK.
Why is that?
The unwelcome announcement was that after enormous personal investment–and for the second time around–I didn’t receive a grant that would have funded the launch and establishment of a project I have been working on for years. Disappointment is a reasonable response; that I know. Less natural, especially for me, is a strange, level confidence that has held my emotions and outlook steady. Here are some possibilities I have considered as explanations for this evenness.
1. I knew my chances of receiving the award were slim. This is not just hindsight speaking; it’s true. The attempt was a rimshot from the beginning. Compared to large organizations competing for this grant–including many already known and trusted by the grantor–I’m a small fry, applying as an unknown through a pretty small sponsoring organization. I learned after I submitted my application that past recipients have included the likes of Yale, Duke, and entire denominations, so I was certainly swimming out of my league more than I had even realized.
2. Related to that overreach is another strategic mistake. I asked for too much money. Had I asked for less and scaled my project plans down, I probably would have been competing in a less selective category. The organization insisted that applicants of all shapes and sizes should submit proposals, provided that they met the qualifying criteria (we did), and although I had reviewed the list of past recipients, I only discovered through indirect means that the size of the award seems to have correlated generally with the institutional size of the applicant. And who am I? I’m just me, sitting here in my home office with a plan and a hope and a heap of grit.
3. Because I am part of a small start-up being incubated by another small organization, I wrote the proposal with the only grant writing expertise I could afford: my own. That is, this was a splendidly executed DIY effort–according to my own non-expert opinion, of course. It was certainly the best free labor I could afford (with both of my free efforts over the last 4 years totaling about 720 hours). I suppose we get what we pay for, which may explain in part why big organizations get the big bucks. One large competitor shared with me during this process that they had hired a well-seasoned grant writer who has a winning track record with this particular grantor. They were paying him to write their proposal and then, if awarded, to perform all grant reporting duties over the next five years. I could have barely afforded 1% of what they were paying him, so I did the research, worked hard, and hoped for the best. Stupid? Maybe. But what choice did I have? And God is certainly good enough and capable enough to bless my efforts beyond my calculations.
4. Perhaps I’m steady because God has other tasks and avenues for me. I honestly don’t quite know what those are. Should I be trying to launch that project without money? Should I be doing other fundraising? Was it a waste of God’s time and mine for me to submit that proposal against such odds? Should I have been employing myself more productively? Maybe. I don’t think so. I don’t know. I certainly felt the urgency and the joy to work on the proposal to the best of my ability. What does it mean now? Maybe my calm is holding because God’s purpose for that project is still on.
5. Most of all, I believe that my response to this recent disappointment is encouraging evidence that God has been working to heal, sanctify, and mature my confidence over the past few years. Maybe he is teaching me the secret of being content in any and every circumstance. This is impossible internal work that only God can do. He works quietly and secretly beneath the surface to cause growth, just as he makes seeds grow secretly.
Maybe ask me how I’m feeling next week after the reality sets in, or better yet, ask me after I find out who did win the award I was seeking, as that’s a whole other challenge in accepting a loss graciously. Let’s pray that I’ll be able to rejoice genuinely with those who rejoice–yes, even (especially) if they happen to be those who, through no superior planning or brain power or je ne sais pas quoi, were able to drop 70K of nonprofit bucks on a schwanky top-tier grant-writer, but who don’t even recognize that obvious advantage as an obvious advantage, and who thus think they won simply because they’re just better than me, and who . . . and . . . and. . . .
Well. Enough of that. Mercy, people, the struggle is real!
For now, I’m grateful for having had the opportunity to put forth my best. I’m thankful for the good gardening in my soul that God has done. True to his word, he is faithful to complete the work in us that he has begun. This I believe.
So I’m not bitter.
I’m not shaken.
I am expectant, and all is well.
Thanks be to God!
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