I have a miniature whiteboard in my office where I used to write reminders—not “to-do” reminders, but “Who are you?” reminders. One day it might be a quote I read in a book, the next day it might be a simple personal goal, the next week it might be a Proverb. At some point two phrases ended up on the little board, and they remained there for several years.
The first was “Financially Free by 33.” I was 30, probably close to 31 when I wrote that on my board, I didn’t have a ton of money in the bank, and I had no idea how that goal would even be possible. In fact, I’m not sure I ever really believed it was possible. But, whether I wanted to or not, I looked at that sentence every day. I don’t mean I had to force myself to look at it; it wasn’t that I didn’t want to look at it. What I mean is that it was there. I always saw it. Every time I was working, every time I took a break, every time I left my home office, and every time I returned, and so many times in between—my eyes (and no doubt my mind and heart) were drawn to that goal. It was deeper than conscious thought; it was more like a “need” than a goal.
The second reminder was “In Your Light We See Light.” And that reminder is still on my little board to this day. This was (and is) a continual reminder for me personally that my understanding is limited, my goals may be inadequate, and my plans and purposes may be shortsighted. Simply put, there is so much that I just don’t know. I don’t think I realized it at the time, and it certainly wasn’t something I was fully conscious of, but these two sentences would shape the next few years of my life. I was always reminded of this inward “need” to be free, and along with that, I was always reminded that my own understanding is limited. Becoming financially free wasn’t a measured goal I took intentional daily steps to attain (it wasn’t a spreadsheet building and tracking kind of thing); it was deeper than that. It felt (and feels) more like hunger. It feels more like a need that existed long before I learned the words to describe it. It wasn’t “I want to retire and do nothing,” it was more like “I need to be free so I can spend my time on something greater than a cubicle.”
All during this time I was working a GS position for the Federal Government, pastoring a little church, and investing in real estate part time. Most days I hated my job (at least during the final year or two), but I was thankful for the opportunity to serve such a deserving population: our Nation’s Veterans. I’m a people person, but I had been promoted to the point that I no longer dealt directly with the people I so deeply cared about. I spent the entire day—all day, every day—looking at two computer screens. Of course, there was some high-level technical analysis and decision making going on, but spatially, I spent 40+ hours a week looking at two computer screens. I was miserable. But I’m a positive person, so I don’t think I really even knew how incompatible with my calling my work had become.
Most days I wanted to quit, but there was some reason I just didn’t feel finished with that job yet. Without even understanding why or how or when it happened, I found myself almost unable to function at times. In retrospect, my life had just been too much too much for too long. I had burned the candle at both ends for so long, there wasn’t much left in the middle. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was drowning. I couldn’t breathe. I had what many would consider a dream job (working from home on a flex schedule with secure government pay and benefits), but I found myself almost completely unable to function at times. I went to my boss, and I still remember exactly what I told him: “I don’t know what is wrong with me, but I’m not OK. I’m not suicidal, but I’m everything short of it. I can’t keep doing this.” I went to counseling (which was a big taboo in my family) and after a couple sessions getting to know each other, my counselor told me, “you could go on medication, but that won’t fix the underlying issue: you’re working outside your calling.”
I’m not a quitter, but it was deeper than that. Even though I didn’t want to leave my job on a “down” note, I still felt it wasn’t yet time to move on. During that same time frame I was given an amazing opportunity to go overseas. I was given a temporary detail (7 months) where I would live and work in Germany, helping US Veterans and service members obtain benefits, and helping service members transition out of the military. In short, I spent all day every day meeting with, getting to know, counseling, and advising the men and women we make war movies about. I got to sit face to face with these heroes, and see and feel their brokenness. God used all my anxiety and brokenness of those recent months to help me empathize with and truly help my clients there. But that is another story for another day.
While in Germany, I realized it was time to move on from my career with the government. I talked with my supervisor back in the States, and gave him plenty of notice that I felt finished with that phase of my career (he wasn’t surprised at all). I would finish out my assignment in Germany (and I did that with all of my heart, to the best of my ability), but I wouldn’t return to my previous job of looking at two computer screens all day. My fiancé and I (who had recently become engaged) had several conversations via phone and Marco Polo. It was time. After 11 years with the Veterans Administration, it was time to move on. I was able to resign with dignity, at highest point of my career, with genuine thankfulness for everything. I didn’t have a million-dollar nest egg, and I wasn’t “retiring,” but it was time.
2 days before my 34th birthday was the last day I worked for the government. I had left my little white board in the States, and I didn’t see my “Financially Free by 33,” goal the entire time I was in Germany. But my heart remembered. My subconscious mind hadn’t forgotten. When I got home, I erased that phrase from my little board. I felt like I had failed. I didn’t have enough money to “retire,” and I didn’t yet understand that my heart’s deep desire had been fulfilled.
My wife and I were married about a month later, and we had almost 3 weeks of joy and happiness together. Then, she unexpectedly became ill. She had a high fever for several days, and then kept saying, “something just isn’t right.” She had tingling in her feet, then her hands, then her mouth. We walked in to the ER together, and within a few days, she was completely paralyzed. The doctors told us she had something called Guillain Barre Syndrome. They said she would just keep getting worse until the progression stopped, and then she would (likely) start recovering. They didn’t know how long it would take. She spent 33 days in the hospital (including ER, intensive care, and recovery). And I got to be there with her. I was there with her every day and night, without worrying about whether I would lose my job or whether we would be able to pay the bills. As she learned to eat again, and brush her own hair, and (eventually) get dressed herself, I was there. And I was there to do the exercises with her as she learned to walk again. And for the months of outpatient physical therapy and recovery, I was there with her. God had given me the desire of my heart (to be financially free), and I didn’t even fully realize it.
We had rental income coming in, and income from other business deals, and I was able to work some “day jobs,” but there was nothing I had to do. My wife was my priority, and there was no clock I had to punch, there was no daily commute I had to make, and there was no cubicle I had to sit in, away from my wife while she recovered alone. It has been almost 2 years now since I left my comfortable Federal Government job, and I’ve been reflecting a lot lately on that time. We still aren’t “retired,” but I’m OK with that. For this season of life, we are free.
I don’t remember exactly when it happened (maybe while reading “Your Money or Your Life” when I was in Germany), but my thoughts began to shift from “retirement” to “freedom.” I have come to think of financial freedom as “only trading my time for money when I choose to.” My job no longer dominates my life. When there is something more important than working, I do that. I look back on it now, almost 2 years later, and understand that, 2 days shy of my 34th birthday, I became financially free. Don’t misunderstand me: I still work. And there are some days I work non-stop for 12 to 16 hours – but not very many. And more importantly, even on those long days, I’m fulfilled. I’m enjoying building our little piece of the future.
“Retirement” is a fairly recent concept, but the concept of freedom is as old as humans themselves. We weren’t created to “retire;” we were created to be free and to fulfill our purpose in this life. I didn’t write this article to “humble brag,” but to humbly say “Thank You,” to my God for His grace and mercy. I wrote this to (hopefully) encourage you that you can do it too. Whatever your “it” is. I’ve long felt an inward dissonance when I’ve thought of trading decades of my life for a short period of “retirement.” Instead, I want to live. And, I’m living like I never have before.
Wedding Day
