A Prayer for the Car Park Before Your First Day

Sitting in the car

You are early. You are always early on days like this. The engine is off, the building is in front of you, and you cannot make yourself get out yet. Maybe you are checking your phone for a message that isn't coming. Maybe you are running through the first ten minutes in your head, again, as if rehearsing it enough times will make it go smoothly. Somewhere underneath the nerves is a quieter, more embarrassing thought: they are going to work out I don't belong here.

We are not going to tell you that thought is silly. Plenty of people have sat exactly where you are sitting, on their first day, on their fiftieth day, on the day they got promoted past what they thought they could handle. The car park before a new job is a real place. It deserves a real prayer, not a tidy one.

The gift, not just the résumé

There is an old story, easy to skip past, about a man called Bezalel. Before there was a temple to build, before there was gold or bronze or carved wood, there was just a man God named specifically, and equipped specifically, for work that mattered.

The LORD spoke to Moses, saying, "Behold, I have called by name Bezalel the son of Uri, the son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah. I have filled him with the Spirit of God, in wisdom, and in understanding, and in knowledge, and in all kinds of workmanship, to devise skilful works, to work in gold, and in silver, and in bronze, and in cutting of stones for setting, and in carving of wood, to work in all kinds of workmanship. Behold, I myself have appointed with him Oholiab, the son of Ahisamach, of the tribe of Dan; and in the heart of all who are wise-hearted I have put wisdom, that they may make all that I have commanded you:

Exodus 31:1–6

Bezalel didn't talk himself into the job. He didn't have to convince anyone he deserved to be there, least of all God. He was called by name and given what the work required. That is a very different picture from the one most of us carry into a first day, which is that we are on trial, and one wrong move will expose us.

You were not smuggled into this job. Somebody chose you, on purpose, for reasons that made sense to them even if they don't feel convincing to you at seven in the morning. That does not erase the nerves. It just means the nerves are not evidence against you.

What you're actually afraid of

It helps to be specific about what you're bracing for. Usually it isn't the tasks. It's the fear of being found out as less capable, less confident, less put-together than the version of yourself you meant to bring today. The person you meant to be at work: patient, competent, kind under pressure. And already, before the day has started, you suspect you'll fall short of that person by lunchtime.

That gap between who you meant to be and who you fear you'll actually be under pressure, that's not a spiritual failing. It's just what a first day feels like. Worth naming plainly, so it doesn't quietly turn into shame.

Establish the work of our hands

There's a prayer in the Psalms that doesn't pretend the days have been easy, and doesn't promise they're about to get easy either. It asks God to do something with the hands, not just the heart.

So teach us to count our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Relent, LORD! How long? Have compassion on your servants! Satisfy us in the morning with your loving kindness, that we may rejoice and be glad all our days. Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us, for as many years as we have seen evil. Let your work appear to your servants, your glory to their children. Let the favour of the Lord our God be on us. Establish the work of our hands for us. Yes, establish the work of our hands.

Psalm 90:12–17

Notice the psalm doesn't ask for a flawless day, or for everyone to be impressed. It asks for morning mercy, and for the work of the hands to be established, held steady, made to stand. That's a smaller and more honest ask than "let me be brilliant today." It's the kind of thing you can actually pray from a car park.

What you can say from here

You don't need the right words for this. But if it helps, here are a few honest ones.

You can say: I don't feel ready, and I'm going in anyway. That's not a lack of faith. That's most first days, for most people, in most jobs that have ever existed.

You can say: I want to be decent to people today, more than I want to look impressive. That's a prayer, even if it doesn't sound like one.

You can say: I don't know if I'm good enough for this, and I'd like some help getting through the morning without deciding that question by nine a.m. You are allowed to bring uncertainty into a prayer. Nobody is checking it at the door.

If today goes badly in some small way, a fumbled introduction, a question you couldn't answer, that does not settle anything about whether you belong there. One morning is not a verdict.

Before you open the door

You don't need a longer prayer than this. Something like: God, establish the work of my hands today, and let me be the kind of person I meant to be, at least for a few minutes at a time.

Then get out of the car.

If you want to bring today, or the whole business of starting again somewhere new, to prayer in more detail, there's space for that at /pray. And if it turns out the nerves don't fully lift after today, /prayers has other people's ordinary, unfinished situations too.