💭 A Leap of Faith – Madness or Trust in God?

In this video, I share why I walked away from my federal job — and what trusting God looks like in real life.

Prefer to read instead of watch?
The full story is below the video.

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P.S. The video story is in English – but if Russian is your language, you’re not forgotten. This video story is available in Russian on my YouTube channel too.

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A Leap of Faith – Madness or Trust in God?

When people talk about a “leap of faith,” I don’t picture angels or glowing skies. I see emptiness. Fog. And a quiet inner nudge:
“Go. Do it.”

And there you are – standing at the edge. Not a cliff exactly, but something uncertain. No railing. No lights. Just trust. Or madness?

A few days ago, I quit my federal job where I was earning over $98,000 a year, with full benefits.
And now I’m unemployed.
Crazy? Maybe. Some will say it, others will just think it. That’s their right. But first – a little context.

I joined the organization in July 2019 as a claims clerk. My job was to review disability applications: check if forms were filled out correctly, make sure medical documents were attached, that kind of thing. It was a technical role, with ten weeks of required training: four weeks online, six weeks of in-person residency in Denver, Colorado. Then three months of mentorship before being allowed to work independently.

I completed the residency in November 2019. A month later, my mentor let me go solo, saying I didn’t need further supervision. And three weeks after that, in January 2020, I got promoted.

Now I wasn’t just reviewing paperwork – I was making decisions: does this person qualify for disability? If yes, what level? I held that position until January 2024, when I was promoted again – this time, to supervisor. I was now in charge of my former colleagues.

That’s when I saw the inside of the system. And the biggest problem? Extreme micromanagement.

I was expected to monitor employees down to the minute. When they logged in. How long their lunch break was. If they shut their computer down two minutes early.
And this was despite the fact that the vast majority of my team were highly responsible professionals.
We, the supervisors, were instructed to issue written warnings for even the smallest “violations”: launching a work app five minutes late, taking a 17-minute break instead of 15.
I refused to play that game. I trusted my team.
We were adults – not children under surveillance.

When we moved to Arizona in 2022, my commute was 40–45 minutes each way. But as Phoenix grew rapidly over the next 18 months, my commute stretched to 1.5 hours one way.

It was exhausting – physically and emotionally.
Still, back when the job was fulfilling, I didn’t mind the drive. I listened to audiobooks – history, psychology, self-development – whatever piqued my interest.

Then came the parking issue. Spots were reassigned by seniority, and I didn’t make the cut. I had to purchase a space in a private garage, about a 10–15 minute walk from the office.

No big deal – until summer hit. From May to September, the Arizona heat is brutal.
So now, I was spending 2.5–3 hours a day on the freeway, plus 30 minutes walking in the scorching sun. Every single day.

But the real issue wasn’t the long commute or even the micromanagement. What wore me down most was the constant, unexplained changes. Upper management would issue new directives ten times a day — often contradicting each other. It created an atmosphere of confusion, distrust, and constant anxiety.

Add to that the expectation that I had to issue written warnings to my team – not because they were doing something wrong, but because “they don’t know any better” – and it all became soul-crushing.
Emotionally. Spiritually.

The final straw? A “preventative” conversation with my manager. She told me I didn’t smile enough during meetings.
Then she added:
“You don’t like Americans. Because you’re from the Soviet Union.”

That was it. My patience was done.

Sure, a $98,000 salary is excellent for Arizona. But is it worth my physical and emotional health? My integrity?

I came home and told my husband Andrey everything. We agreed: this chapter was over.

I’m not encouraging anyone to quit their job. I’m simply sharing my personal experience – one story among many. We each walk a different path, and God’s plan for you might look nothing like His plan for me. If you’re in a similar place of tension or uncertainty, I urge you to seek Him sincerely. He will answer you – that much I know from my own life.

We brought it all to our Lord Jesus Christ. We were honest:
“We’re scared. It’ll be hard without a second income. The next job will probably pay less. But, Lord, we feel like it’s time to turn the page.”

And despite the fear – there’s peace. Not imagined, not poetic – real.
A peace that fills you from the inside and quietly says:
“Don’t be afraid. It’ll be okay.”

Maybe that’s what Paul meant in Philippians 4:7:
“And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

Am I scared?
From a human point of view – yes.
The thoughts come:
“Will I find another job?”
“How will we pay the bills?”
“Should I have talked to management instead?”

But I know this kind of management style doesn’t change overnight.
I’ve written about it before (see my post on micromanagement) – people like that rarely change. And most often – they don’t change at all.

In moments like these, it’s important to discern where your thoughts come from.
Are they from God? From the enemy? Or just your own overworked mind?

Since childhood, I’ve had these moments – a quiet certainty appears inside me.
It’s not a feeling. Not a logical conclusion. Just a sudden, clear knowing about what to do in a specific situation.

I jokingly call it “the voice in my head.” Though, of course, there’s no voice – just direction.

Recently, that clarity came again:
“Leave this job. There’s no future for you here.”

And with that came peace – and confidence that things would not just be okay – they’d be better.

Because Jehovah Jireh – the Lord will provide.
Not ahead of schedule. Not according to my plan.
But right on time.

Before Jesus Christ found me (a story for another time), I didn’t know thoughts could come from different sources.
Now I’m learning to tell them apart.

I still remember the summer of 1993, right after I moved to the U.S. I met an elderly missionary named Don. I barely spoke English back then, but one phrase stuck with me:
“God will provide.”

Since then, no matter the circumstances, I’ve held on to those words.
And now – I’m holding on again.

I took a leap into the unknown.
But I know with certainty:
Jehovah Jireh – the Lord will provide.

That’s my kitchen table rambling for today.
Maybe I’m overthinking it… or maybe – not.
Share your thoughts – let’s figure it out together.

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🟦 This reflection may one day become part of a book I’m quietly writing.