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Words of Love

“Christ would still die for you. Even if you were the only one.”

Yeah, I know. I do. Your reminder is exactly what I need right now. Because sometimes, recently, I have not been able to fully believe that. So thank you. I’m glad you said that—glad you care enough to make sure I know that. But I do know. In fact, I have said those words to anyone and everyone I think needed to hear them. I’ve drilled them into the heads of my Quizzers, my Sunday small group teens, and my friends. And I can quote all of them and then some. I memorized every word Christ ever said as He walked this earth– every word He said as He died for me. I memorized every time Paul or John or whoever else reemphasized this point as they wrote to broken people—some people who, like me, may not always truly and fully believe these words. And I think that may be the problem.

“Thanks,” I replied almost silently, without even moving my mouth. (A fun party trick I learned from my 7 years of Quizzing. Because no one has time to move their mouth when they are trying to quote every word Jesus ever said in 20 seconds or less.)

You probably didn’t even notice that I said thanks. But I did. And I meant it. Because my ability to quote these words means nothing if I don’t believe them. And I don’t know how much I believe them right now. Because right now, at this moment, I’ve been struggling to believe them. Because I know them. I understand them—I always have. To me, the words of Christ, or Paul, or John, or Moses—the words of God– have never been shrouded in mystery and difficult to understand. They’ve always been easy to understand. At least on the surface. I comprehend them. What I haven’t really done, until recently, is really feel them. And that is my problem—I now feel them.

I reached out and gladly accepted the hug. Because actions speak louder than words. And hugs speak louder than, well, just about everything. And I couldn’t say anything because I was afraid that if I did, I’d start to cry. In fact, I almost did. (Which, to be fair, has been happening a lot recently. Between college, whatever feelings I’ve been trying to sort out, and my medicine that’s supposed to help me regulate my emotions but also seems to make them go all over, I have that feeling a lot.) But had that hug lingered even a millisecond longer, I probably would have.

“I don’t want to pry. I just thought you needed to hear that. Give you some encouragement.”

No, pry. Please. Make me talk about it. Because I don’t exactly know what to say. I don’t exactly know how to describe what the heck I’m thinking—what I’m feeling. I can’t put it into words. But you would know. Something tells me you’d understand. Because if there is anything you’d understand, it’s confusion. It’s overwhelming, indescribable emotion. So please pry. Because I think I need someone to. And you—you’re comfortable. You’re safe. You’re someone who’d get me. Maybe because you remind me a lot of me. Or maybe because, low key, I wish I could be like you when I grow up. You’re a friend I never thought I’d actually have, or get to call my friend. And you’d have the words because you know the Word—probably, definitely, better than I do.

“Thanks. And no, it’s ok to pry. It’s just… I…”

It’s just that I don’t know. I’m feeling so much. And it’s hard to sort out what feelings are due to college being college, what are due to my medicine messing with my head, and what’s due to the actual issue. Because the actual issue is that I’m finally feeling all the words I’ve memorized and known throughout my life. And I don’t know what to make of that. Because I don’t know how to handle the fact that “God is love,” and that “He loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.” Because I don’t deserve that, and I don’t know how to feel about that. I don’t know how to deal with the fact that Love loved me enough to die for me despite the fact that I am a sinner who, no matter how hard I try, can never get it right. I don’t know how to cope with Love’s broken heart, with the fact that I broke it, with the fact that He’d do it again—even if I was the only one–and with the fact that He still wants to heal my broken heart. That’s a Love that I honestly can never understand. The more I study Love, the more I know and the less I understand. Which is what makes Love beautiful. But also frustrating. Love can never be fully comprehended—not by my finite human mind. And I’m not sure I know how to handle that.

“College. Life.”

“Yeah, that’s…yeah.”

Yeah. College. The part of life where I am supposed to be figuring out what I’m doing with my life but the part where no one actually knows. And the part of my life where I realize I’m graduating next year and I am further from figuring out my life than I was when I started. Because every time I think I might have an idea, I find something, some reason, I can’t. But, I also can’t because I’m realizing that nothing I could do could compare to what Love did. And Love really just wants me—my love, my life, my all. But that all still feels so inadequate. And so, I live my life in awe that Love would die for me without expecting my perfection. And I live my life in humble admiration that Love died for me just so He could have me—so I could have Love. I live my life reminded that though “for from dust you are and to dust you will return,” Love reaches out His hands that were pierced for me and picks me up from the ashes where I so rightfully belong. I live my life trying so hard to give Love my love, my fear, my reverence, my talents, and my everything. And I finally feel these words I’ve spent years memorizing. Which leaves me feeling humbled, in awe, inadequate, amazed, appreciative, Loved, fearful, and a bit confused.

“I think you’re putting on a brave face. But you’re dealing with something. And He’ll make beauty from the ashes”

Well, yeah. I’m putting on a brave face because, right now, that’s all I can do. All I can do to keep from crying, or pouring my soul and my confusion and my pain out to a random stranger in the library. I’m dealing with something because I’m dealing with something I can’t even explain. And I’m dealing with the fact that He’ll make beauty from my ashes. Because, I hear that all the time– those stories are everywhere. Heck, you want to talk about really making beauty from ashes, talk to my sister. Now that’s a real beauty from ashes story. But really, what I’m dealing with is the fact that I don’t actually know how to walk away from my ashes. Because I don’t deserve that. Which is how Love’s grace works—it can’t be earned, it isn’t ever fully deserved. But that’s how Love is. And I’ve read the Words. I know that it is a story of grace and Love. But I now feel the story. I’ve been feeling how much I am Israel. I constantly ignore Love. I reject Him. I put other things first—I make other things my god. I’m realizing we all do. And I’m suddenly overwhelmed because, despite all that, despite how often I lose faith and start to sink, Love still reaches out to save me again and again. And that’s indescribably amazing and beautiful. And I can’t understand why, so I just accept that it is—that Love is—and try my best to show Love, and to show Love that I do want Love. But some days, it’s harder to accept than others. And sometimes, more often than not, that type of Love is so indescribable that it hurts.

“Love you”

Thank you. Seriously, thank you. For the reminder. For the encouragement. For caring. For noticing that maybe I needed the encouragement. Because I am not even sure I recognized that I needed it until you gave it. And I love you too. I am so thankful to Love that He allowed me the opportunity to meet you. Because I joke about how I want to be you when I grow up. But in all seriousness, I’d love to be like you. I’d love to have your passion, your gift for encouragement, your warm hugs, your sass. And I’d love to have your wisdom. So, thank you for the encouragement, and for being a friend, and for giving me a hug. And right now, I’m going to give you another hug because that’s all I can do. If I say anything, I’ll probably cry. And I can’t do that here, not now.

“So, when are you coming back?”

And okay, I know it’s not actually up to me. And you would if you could. But, also, when are you coming back because I miss your classes. Because they were the places where I first truly discovered the Word come to life—where I first began feeling the Words I’d memorized. They are the places where this all began. When are you coming back because I miss your passion, your smile, your sass, and your light. When are you coming back because this—this moment right here—I wish it could stay like this forever. And I need more of these. When are you coming back because we all need you—or someone like you—in our lives. And so many others’ lives have been impacted by you. Because I, we, love you. And Love loves you. You helped show me, briefly, at a glance, Love. And, I’m sure you know this, but I want to remind you anyway since you reminded me.

“God is. I don’t know what He is, but I know that He is.”

God is a lot of things. He is good (although maybe not what we think “good” is). He is just. He is the beginning, He’s the end. He’s omnipresent, omniscient, and an all-consuming fire. He is I Am. He is the bread of life, the light of the world, the Messiah. He’s indescribable and unchanging. He is life. He is Love.

There were a lot of things I wanted to say but couldn’t and a lot of things I should have said but didn’t. But sometimes, words are hard. And sometimes, the Words of Love can be even harder. And sometimes it takes words of love to help you understand what love is and who Love is. But, man, am I grateful for all kinds of words of love, and for those who love, because sometimes, that’s what I need to truly understand Love. (And sometimes, actually most of the time, the hugs help too.)

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Wait, What? Oh, Yeah. It’s Valentine’s Day.

This post actually makes no sense. But neither does my life right now. And it actually has not really anything to do with Valentine’s Day. But neither does my life. So, Happy Valentine’s Day.

It’s Valentine’s Day again. *insert whatever reaction here*  And I could write another post about my thoughts on Valentine’s Day, but that’s been done before. Not just by me– by literally everyone. So, I’m not going to do that. Because let’s face it– we’re all tired of that type of thing. We’re all tired of singles posting statuses or photos or whatever else on the internet on Valentine’s Day claiming they don’t care or complaining because they do. We’re almost as tired of that as we are of all the couples posting their seemingly perfect adventures. And guys, to be honest, I’m not a brokenhearted jealous single who’s just trying to validate my feelings. But, to be fair, I’m not a perfectly content single who’s trying to encourage others either. I fall somewhere between those two lines– some days, like today, closer to one end than the other. But, that’s okay. And this post isn’t really about that. It’s not really about Valentine’s Day either. It’s mostly about life.

I’ve been having a rough time recently. I am not sure how to describe exactly everything I’ve been feeling and thinking, mostly because I don’t know. But, I am trying to write a post(s) explaining it all– it’s just a slow process because I’m trying to sort through all my thoughts. And my ADHD (surprise?! A post I’m planning to finish soon) makes that incredibly difficult because I am trying to figure out what’s important and trying to not hyper-focus on what’s not. (Like, I probably should be doing homework right now, but I can’t focus on that until I write this, but this isn’t that important to write, but my brain refuses to acknowledge that so I’m basically not going to sleep at all tonight, but it’s fine because I’ll drink like 4 cups of coffee tomorrow which is fine because the caffeine helps my brain focus which is good because then I’ll be able to do what’s important, and wait, what was I talking about again? Right, my life. So, I am feeling a bunch of things and thinking a bunch of things and I’m an introvert who didn’t have enough introvert time this past week, so I’m kind of a wreck. Yesterday, in an attempt to change the scenery and hopefully convince my mind to focus on the tasks at hand, I ventured from my usual study spot to the library– mind racing and thoughts darting back and forth.

After getting settled and beginning to start my many tasks at hand, I ran into a friend. I said hi, with the intention of just being a nuisance for a brief moment. However, somehow the conversation progressed to a not terribly annoying one (it happens…occasionally). He gave me some unoriginal advice (sorry, dude, if you’re reading this. But, like, I told myself all that already in order to convince myself I wasn’t actually a failure when I switched my major) and asked why I don’t switch my major (Little behind the eight ball, aren’t we?). And then, somehow, it transitioned to mutual friends of ours’– both of whom are in relationships. And I made some joke about them not hanging out with me because they were too busy spending time with their girlfriends (which is, in fact, a joke. We didn’t spend that much time together before they had girlfriends, so it really is no different now). To which he responded, “Does that bother you?”  (welcome to the mind of an overthinking, emotionally unstable, completely confused, physically exhausted, young single woman with ADHD on Valentine’s Day. You’re welcome.)

“Does that bother you?” Well no. But also yes. I’m annoyed but I don’t know what to tell you because it bothers me for reasons you wouldn’t think or understand. And you’d probably say they’re dumb anyway. Which, they are. Because he and I-we- there’s a- history- thing– it’s complicated. And him? I don’t really know. That’s just a thing I can’t really explain. And I don’t want to talk to you about this. Because you know. But also you don’t. And also, you don’t really know me super well. And, you’re like their brother. But you’re also like mine. My super annoying brother, but brother nonetheless. And you’re also like a 12 year old. Sometimes I wish I were 12. I act like it all the time, which is probably why they all love me and I get along with them so well, but, wait, I’m an adult, when did that happen? Wait, what’s happening to my life? Where’s it going? Wait, what’s going on? Oh yeah– no, it doesn’t bother me. Yes, it does. I don’t actually know.

But “no, it’s not much different than before, you know. Good for them.” But also, I don’t want to do this– not here, not now, not with you. I can’t do this with you now. I’ve got homework and thoughts and emotions to think through. And honestly, I kind of think I’m about to cry. But like, that’s not really your fault– and I’ve kind of been feeling that way a lot these past few days. My medicine that is supposed to help me control and clarify all my emotions is wearing off so I’ll have very little control over my emotions for the next half hour or so until, coincidentally, it wears off completely. And also I’m stressed and confused about life. And I kind of just want to sit around and contemplate Ezekiel or whatever other book because I’m kind of mad at the church right now for whatever. And God’s kind of been making me feel Him too much and also not enough recently. He’s been leaving me awestruck but also feeling unable to do anything about anything. And I’m exhausted and I don’t know what to say when people ask what’s wrong. And I’m an introvert who hasn’t had enough introvert time recently and I’ve got way too much work to plausibly get done before break. Because I did nothing yesterday because my friends were having crises. And I had to help them figure out what the heck was going on. And I am really just super confused about everything. And freaking feelings, hormones, and medication keeps screwing with my mind. And tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day, and two days ago was Sunday. And my one pastor wasn’t there Sunday. And oh my goodness, I thought about maybe being a pastor. But I also definitely cannot do that. My pastor told me he figured my life out for me. And, oh yeah, my pastor joked about talking about a passage on love during Valentine’s week. But like, Valentine’s Day is stupid except for the chocolate. But I always buy that the day after anyway because it’s cheaper. And my brain can’t shut up. And I really don’t want to cry in front of you. I really don’t know you that well. But I might. Or I might punch you in the face– I’m not entirely sure.

“You know, I know it can be hard seeing people you’re close to get in relationships.” Well yeah, but also not at all. Like they’re happy and all that crap which is cool. And I’m happy, I think, which is good. And like, relationships are great. I know lots of people whose relationships are doing great things for the Kingdom. Oh, crap, I used to write KOH on my paper in New Testament and always tried to figure out why I was writing about potassium hydroxide in Bible class. Ah man, I miss that class. That professor is my favorite human being. She’s married, and her and her husband are pretty chill. They’d be like relationship goals, if I believed in that type of thing. She’s one of the reasons I switched my major. Why’d I not completely switch again? How’d you not know I switched? Have you been living under a rock? What am I doing with my life? How old am I? I have no idea what I’m doing. You’re older than I am and you just said you have no clue either. But also I didn’t remember you were that much older than I am. Didn’t you graduate with my sister? Oh yeah, I can’t believe she doesn’t know what she’s doing with her life either. Why is everyone clueless and having crises? And wait, dude, why are you giving me relationship advice for my non-existent relationship if you have a non-existent one too? No, it doesn’t bother me because I’d have to be close to a person for it to be hard to see. But I’m not that close to them anymore. And all the closeness I thought we had seems now like a lie. Oh shoot, did anyone notice how unnecessarily close that dude was sitting to me? Because that was weird. And a weird place to do that. But also, why was he sitting so close? Like go away. Crap, I still feel like I’m about to cry again. Shut up

“Shut up”

And so, after trying my hardest to finish my assignment due at 10 while simultaneously thinking about– well, everything– I re-read old Valentine’s Day posts I wrote. Because today is Valentine’s Day. And I read old letters to people I’d written that they’d never read, and some I hope they will. Because Facebook reminded me of a status I posted on Valentine’s Day last year about one of those letters. And now, here I am. Writing this post at 2 am on Valentine’s Day. Procrastinating homework that I definitely should not be procrastinating. Because my life has been weird recently and my mind has been unfocused, despite being on medication to help it do the exact opposite of that. And words are hard to find to express anything. But, today is Valentine’s Day. And love has a lot of meanings, and my brain thinks a lot of thoughts, and I’ve had a lot of different conversations about Valentine’s Day these past few days. And I’ve been writing something on Valentine’s Day these past few years but I kind of don’t feel like it this year. Because I don’t want to write an encouraging letter to singles because even if I believe it, those are so cliche and overdone. And one of the reasons I hate Valentine’s Day is the cliches. And I don’t want to write a post about the jealousy singles can feel on Valentine’s Day. Because I don’t really feel that super deeply. I’m somewhere between two points, and while I may be closer to that side today, y’all have heard that before too. And I’m kind of sick of hearing it. So instead I wrote this. Because there is a lot in my life happening right now. And the fact that it’s Valentine’s Day and Ash Wednesday and three days before break makes everything more confusing. And this, in a way, helps to begin to explain some of it. But also leaves everyone, including myself, a lot more confused. Which is what Valentine’s Day kind of does to me. So, instead of rewording posts you’ve all read a billion times, I’ll leave you with these words from my past self:

“I live a love story of death and eternity, and unconditional, always present love. My life is a love story and my love is the Creator of Love itself– Himself” -Why I”m Choosing to Reject Valentine’s Day

“So, maybe I am that stereotypical girl I never wanted to be. Maybe I don’t actually hate Valentine’s Day. Maybe I still do. Or maybe just this time around I do… I’m sitting here filled with this overwhelming feeling of something indescribable. Something somewhere between sadness, anger, confusion, love, and hope…  I miss you, as much as it is possible for someone to miss a person they have never actually met and have no concept of. But tonight, I’m confused and broken and inexplicably sad. “-excerpt from a letter to you that one day you’ll read

So yes, I hate Valentine’s Day. But no, I don’t really. Really I just can’t make up my mind about anything and everything makes it more confusing.

So, Happy Valentine’s Day. Enjoy your chocolate, your significant other, and/or your adorable pet. Or enjoy none of those and sulk like Scrooge on Christmas. But whatever you do, please don’t ruin other’s day. And please don’t tell anyone how they should feel. Because, if it were me, I’d probably cry. Or punch you. Who knows? I can’t make up my mind about anything:

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The Christ of the Church

This was not the blog post I wanted to write. It’s not the one I had half finished and was going to post today, but I think that this is the one I had to post. I had to write this because, right now, I have to say some things. This may be risky, and it may ruffle some feathers, but I’m sorry– it’s too important (and I’m too mad about it) not to post.

Actually, you know what? I take that back– I’m not sorry and I don’t apologize. So, here I am, speaking my heart, despite the repercussions. Because we need to talk about the church for a minute.

Recently, I thought about walking away– not from church altogether, just from my church– the place I had grown up. Something was missing, and I didn’t know what it was, but I could tell it was something I wanted. I have since discovered that it was passion, vision, and most importantly, truth. My church has recently undergone changes, and now, I have seen this passion, vision, and truth more than ever.

Recently, my sister wrote a post similar to the one I’m about to write. For those who are unaware, my sister has a powerful testimony. (which you should read about by reading her other posts). It’s filled with tragedy, bumpy roads, thunderstorms, and dark tunnels, but it’s also filled with hope, light, and strength. But throughout all of this, the place she felt the least welcome was the place that she should have felt the most welcome– church. She didn’t feel at home at the place where she met Jesus for the first time.

Because this Jesus she met here, and the Jesus a lot of people meet at church, is not the real Jesus. It is not the Jesus found in the pages of the Bible that our pastors preach on. It’s not the one whose words we read (or memorize). It’s a Jesus that’s sugarcoated, misquoted, and misunderstood.

Because here’s the truth. Here is the thing I commented on my sister’s recent Facebook status about her anxiety and recent struggles and about how thankful she is that God meets her where she is– brokenness and all.

My favorite Bible stories (besides all the other ones) are the ones where Christ, once made human form to meet us, ate with tax collectors, sinners, and broken people. Because that’s who He came for. The Pharisees (or, comparatively the church), thought He was crazy and shouldn’t associate with those people because they weren’t perfect. But, Christ actually wants our brokenness and not our perfection. He doesn’t want the whitewashed walls— He wants the sinful woman pouring perfume on His feet and the criminal hanging next to Him on the cross. He wants the doubter who says “God, are you even real?” Because He wants to say, “Yeah. Here are My hands that were pierced for you,” as He stretches out His hands so you can feel His wrists. And if you still don’t believe Him, He wants to walk on the waves toward you and say “come to me”. And once you do, and you start to sink, He says “Why do you doubt?” as He reaches out His hands to save you– even if you continue to sink over and over and over and over again. Because Christ can calm the storm, but only if you ask Him. He’ll raise His hands, pierced for you, and say “Be still!” But, He never once says “heal yourself,” because those who are already perfect have no need for Him. Let’s be honest, anyone who says “I’m too good for Jesus and I don’t need Him,” is lying. And anyone who says that anyone else is “too broken” for Christ doesn’t understand the true nature of Christ.”

And so, here is my thing, the whole reason I’m even writing this post. Too often, our churches claim to be Jesus’ disciples, and yet act like the Pharisees. We claim to know it all and don’t let the outside world see our brokenness for fear that it will somehow make our Jesus less attractive. But, if we really want to be Jesus’ disciples, we would be doing exactly what Jesus Himself did and associating with the broken, sinful, “messed up” people, while admitting that we ourselves are broken, sinful, and messed up. If we want to make Jesus attractive, we would preach a Jesus who meets us where we’re at– brokenness and all. We would claim that we need Jesus as much as everyone else. Church should be a place where people can show up with their messy lives and find a place where that mess can be embraced and peace can be found.

And here is where I ruffle some feathers (if I haven’t already), and where I also share a little bit of a personal update.

I don’t have any idea what the heck I want to do with my life (as anyone who knows me or has read any of my recent posts could easily tell you). But, recently, I’ve had a lot of people tell me the same thing. I’ve had my parents, my sister, my pastors, my fellow Quiz coaches, and my friends tell me that I’m going to be a youth pastor. And, in all honesty, the idea of that has grown on me, and it is something I have seriously considered. But, the more I think about, the more I’m torn, because the more I don’t think I can do that. I can’t do that.

I’m not saying I can’t do that because I’m not able to, or because I don’t have the gifts or the passion or the desire to. I mean, there are definitely some things I could say to convince myself, and others, that those things are true. But, that’s not the real reason I can’t do it.

I can’t do it because I can’t stand up and teach a generation of people who don’t feel the church accepts, values, or wants to listen to them because they are too young, messed up, broken, confused, doubtful, or whatever. I can’t teach them how much God loves them just to see them struggling but too scared to say it because they feel they are “too broken” to accept God’s love– too broken for Christ to even want them. I can’t watch them be afraid to be honest because they feel that church is not the place for doubts and that if they don’t answer the questions with the “right” answers they are somehow failing at being a Christian. I can’t help them learn that they are not failing, nor are they “too broken” for Christ and help them accept Him and come to Him as they are, just to watch them graduate and get forgotten about. Just to watch them enter a church that is so focused on helping children and teens find Christ and helping adults continue to live like Him, that they forget that college students and young adults need Him too, but they feel too out of place to know where to go to keep finding Him. They aren’t children, but they aren’t really treated like adults, so they are forgotten about in the most critical time of their life simply because the church doesn’t know what to do with them. I can’t watch them enter that church, then walk away because they feel lost and abandoned, like everything they were taught was a lie since they no longer feel that they have a place. I can’t work for a place that acts like we have it all figured out. I can’t stand up and pretend I have my life figured out and nothing is wrong while I know that not a single person leads a life like that. I can’t work for a place that, once I do admit my life is not figured out, has the tendency to say “you can’t be a leader if you have flaws because you’re supposed to have it all together if you want to lead– especially if you want to lead our young, vulnerable members.” I can’t be a youth pastor because so often our youth pastors are not taken seriously enough. Too often, they are viewed as “Junior pastors,” people who took that job so that they could get their foot in the door and hopefully, eventually get a job as a “real,” “adult” pastor. Their ideas are brushed aside and their passions are stepped on, because we trust them to lead our youth, but only if they do it within the system that has been in place for so long but has stopped working years ago. I can’t enter a system like that– a system that, at times, can be so messed up it misses the point of the gospel it preaches. A system that embraces change until it goes against their traditions and then they resist it and allow it to cause drama and tension and awkwardness. I don’t want to continue to encourage that atmosphere and I can’t help young people who love God so much love Him more just to enter a church as an adult and have to deal with all that. Quite honestly, I don’t want to watch them get the same shock I had with all this change going on and discover that there is more tension in the church than love and acceptance. I don’t want them to grow up and find out that the Jesus of the Bible, the Jesus that is preached, is not the Jesus that is practiced.

Today in Sunday school, we asked the teens what Paul would say if he were to write a letter to our church. We were speaking specifically of our one church, but I think the answer works for the entire church body as a whole. Some of the things they said were honest and difficult, but I compiled them, and added a few words of my own:

Dear church,

Can you stop being so stubborn? Stop being so stuck in your own traditions and ideas that you neglect to recognize that not all change is bad, and sometimes, it is necessary. Stop treating kids like they are “too young” to be important, teenagers like they are “not mature enough” to make an impact, young adults and college students that they are “not old enough” or “properly educated” to have any good ideas or wisdom to impart. Don’t forget about your “young” members just because they are young. You don’t like the direction the future generations are going, and yet, you don’t let them find direction in the church. Stop being so judgmental and self-centered. Allow people to bring their brokenness, messiness, and sin inside your doors and be a place where they are free to talk about it without judgement and with love. Go back to the Word and find out what it really says and follow it– even if it doesn’t say what you want it to. You can’t change the gospel to meet your needs and justify your actions. You have to learn what it says so you can better imitate the Christ within its pages. Because the Christ you preach is not the Christ you practice.

And I’m glad that my church has people with a passion. A Pastor who isn’t afraid to share hard truths and call us all, including himself, on our crap. And I’m glad we have a pastor whose passion is for those of us who are “in between.” Who are old enough to make decisions about their own life but not old enough to have others we need to make decisions for. I’m glad we have pastors who are willing to fight for the truth regardless of the tensions or anger it may cause. I’m glad we have pastors who try their hardest to practice the Christ they preach. I’m not sure about the other churches, but I hope they do too. Because look, if you ever even want a chance of me entering into that system then the church as a whole has got to stop being hypocrites and resisting all the hard truths because they are uncomfortable. Because quite honestly, I’m tired of it, and it makes me a little angry. And if we ever want to reach those who are unreached, we have to start preaching, and most importantly, practicing, the Christ of the Bible.

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A Year of Reflecting

I hate cliches, so I’m going to skip all the “new year, new me” and resolutions list. Instead, I’m going to get straight to the point. If you read last year’s New Year’s post, you’d know how I felt going into 2017. You’d know I was heartbroken, and excited, and confused, and wondering all wrapped into one. And, you’d also know that 2017 was not my year, and I didn’t actually expect it to be. And I feel the exact same about 2018. You may also have noticed this “New Year’s Post” is a few days late, but, that’s because just because it’s a new year doesn’t mean it’s not a new me, so, procrastination is still my greatest strength. But, despite the procrastination, here is a review of my 2017 and an expectation of my 2018.

January 2017 I got my wisdom teeth out, thereby effectively losing all hope of ever being wise. I made lots of jokes, hung out with friends, and laughed a lot. I was forced to really face my heartbreak head on for the first time. I started healing– from both my wisdom teeth and my heartbreak.

February 2017 I tried a new restaurant whose servings are the size of a small child but whose breakfast is out of this world. I laughed some more, and probably cried a little. I tried forcing myself to move on from my heartbreak and talked to him again, and then stopped because, as much as I missed our incredible conversations, I missed my own happiness more. I gave a speech and informed my class about the love of my life.

March 2017 I celebrated pi day in style, and enjoyed the snow storm. I went on some dates with some wonderful friends and tried to get over my heartbreak. I went to my first hockey game (and cannot wait to go to another one I might add), and enjoyed the fights most of all (sorry not sorry?). I watched my youth pastor, a man I admired even if I was never super close to, leave to take a new job as a head pastor. I laughed more, cried some more, took some meme worthy photos. My quizzers bribed me with food, and I (started) a road trip to West Virginia.

April 2017 I finished that road trip and the Quiz tournament that caused it. I hung out with some friends, saw some plays, and wore more dresses than usual because why not? One Sunday, I heard exactly what I needed to hear to finally accept the heartbreak– not completely get over it or finish healing, but accept it. I celebrated Easter and probably ate too many cookies. I went to my church’s garage sale and only bought 4 books (instead of, you know, all of them). I stayed up too late studying and watched my favorite football team score the perfect draft picks.

May 2017 I celebrated a birthday, and shared one with my mom as always. I stayed up too late studying (again), and finished my finals, mostly successfully. I traveled back to my high school for the first time since graduating and watched my former teammates on the Synchronized Swimming team perform. I watched my cousin play his last high school soccer game, and I spent too long looking back on my favorite memories. I cried and laughed and talked too much. I finally watched The Bible t.v series on Netflix and pointed out the fact that the actors were too white and nails could not actually be placed through Jesus’ hands (it’s all in the wrists– take a Biology class people!). I introduced new friends to Quizzing, whipped my Quizzers into shape for Conference Finals, and let the social media world take a look into a night at our practice.

June 2017 I returned to one of my favorite places ever since I was a child and Quizmastered at Conference Finals. I reminisced about all the weeks I’d spent at camp there, and the weekends I’d spent at Quizzing. I remembered all the tears I had cried a year earlier as I watched it all ending and smiled at all the joy I’ve experienced as a Quizmaster and coach. I laughed a lot. I burst with pride for my Quizzers and hurt with sadness for those graduating and leaving it all behind. I video chatted my roommate as we counted down the days until Nationals and we could see each other again. I celebrated some birthdays, some graduations, and a wedding.

July 2017 I celebrated some holidays. I went to Nationals and cried, and laughed. I Quizmastered in a different division than I had been in all year and didn’t struggle as much as I thought I would– I rediscovered and reaffirmed my greatest passion in life. I felt amazing pride and sorrow. I shared part of my Quizzing story.

August 2017 I was beyond excited because football was back, and I was beyond in denial because I had to start school again. I wrested with my purpose in life and desire for my future. I laughed, and had one last family get together before my cousin went off to college. I baked– a lot. I saw the solar eclipse and managed not to go blind (or rather, more blind). I moved back into college and began my second year.

September 2017 I cracked open a cold one with the boys (or, rather my roommate, sister, and our friend went out to Friendly’s and couldn’t decide on an Instagram caption). I got stressed and stayed up late and had a rough time. I watched my head pastor preach his last sermon before retiring. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and was constantly questioning if I was making the right choices. I started helping in the 7th grade girls’ Sunday small group because I thought I needed more to do? (Or because 12 year olds and I are best friends– since I am actually 12).

October 2017 I had the first Quiz tournament of the new season and got to meet new friends and see all my old ones again. I officially changed my major and freaked out because I didn’t (and still don’t) have any clue what to do. I enjoyed more laughs and tried Indian desserts for the first time. I went to a theology conference and learned the names of some trees. I saw some beautiful sunrises and sunsets. I watched the Bills lose too many football games.

November 2017 I hung out with friends and wrote some papers. I studied too hard and not hard enough. I saw the first snow of the season and smiled so big. I celebrated Thanksgiving, and ate too much. I bribed my Quizzers to learn a 77 name genealogy by promising candy. I cried, and laughed, and quit one of my jobs. I set up our Christmas tree.

December 2017 I welcomed 2 new pastors to our church and tried to introduce myself without being too creepy (which probably failed, because, let’s be honest, I’ m awkward and creepy). I was attacked with hugs from a bunch of 12 year old Quizzers and I loved every moment of it. I enjoyed more snow, got into the holiday spirit, studied, and mostly succeeded at my finals. I bought and wrapped presents and I celebrated Christmas. I laughed too much. I stopped breathing for a good half hour as I watched the Bills make the playoffs for the first time in 17 years. I cried tears of joy.

And now, it’s 2018. I’m going to party like it’s 1999 (or at least until Sunday). I’m less than a week away from starting a new semester. And, in May, I am going to Brazil as part of my classes. I’m going to laugh more, and cry more. I’m going to cheer on my Bills, and my Quizzers, and I’m going to cheer on my friends. I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life still, but I’m reaching out to God and begging Him to allow me to surrender it all so He can do whatever He wants. I’m reading books, and I hope to read more. I’ll celebrate another birthday, and celebrate with others’. I’ll Quizmaster and coach and encourage and receive high fives and hugs (at least I hope). I’ll start what I hope is my final year of college, and I’ll definitely still be confused about what I’m doing. I’ll laugh and cry and break and heal. I survived 2017, and I know I will survive 2018. Because it may be a “new year, new me,” or it may not be. But it will always be a new year, same God. And I gave God 2017, and on the days I didn’t feel safe I fought so hard to allow myself to surrender it to Him anyway, and I survived it. So, here’s to 2018 and all the surviving, God-giving, loving, and surrendering it brings.

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Life’s Feeling 

Guys, I’ve been honest on here before. I haven’t hesitated to talk about my heartbreak, my feelings of inadequacy, my fear of not knowing what I want to do with my life, and anything and everything in between. But, this post may be my most vulnerable yet. It may be one that I regret writing, but, it’s on my mind and in my fingers so, here goes nothing.

I’ve been trying so hard recently to be happy. In a way, I’m the happiest I’ve been since I started college. Switching my major gave me a feeling of happiness I haven’t had since I stepped foot into my intro Old Testament class day one of freshmen year. But, I’m also not happy. Because guys, if I’m being one hundred percent honest, I’m not really anything. And I know that doesn’t make a lot of sense, but, right now, my world doesn’t make a lot of sense.

I’m exhausted. I’m physically exhausted. The short nights and long days are finally starting to wear me out. The 5 hours of nonstop work every other day piled on top of classes and homework is finally starting to physically drain me. I have knots the size of boulders in my neck and shoulders and back. My feet constantly feel like I’m walking on rocks, like they are permanently bruised inside my shoes. My lungs sometimes get tired of taking in air, and, as an asthmatic who already struggles enough to take in air, that proves to be an issue. More often than not, my brain gets foggy and is no longer able to function properly. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t even want to think about drinking coffee. Not that I’m going to stop, because it’s my life source, but I would just so much rather have real sleep, consistently, for days in a row, that the thought of drinking coffee is, quite honestly, a bit repulsive. I’ve had migraines that my usual tricks don’t cure– worse migraines than I’ve ever had before in my entire life. Migraines so bad that I literally cannot think. Like my own thoughts hurt my head. And, I can’t study because every time I try to read, I’ll see the letters on the page in an arrangement that makes something that should be a word, but my brain will literally not understand what the word is or recognize it. A few days ago, I came back to my room before chapel, sat on my bed, told myself I should get up for chapel, and then just sat there. For an hour. And then, I closed my eyes and decided I’d try to sleep. Because I was so tired, but I couldn’t actually sleep. When my roommate came in, I couldn’t even open my eyes it hurt so much. And her voice hurt but I didn’t have the energy to say anything. But, I’ve got things to do so I take my vitamins, take some pain relievers, drink a lot of water, eat well, and sleep when I can.

I’m emotionally exhausted. I’ve always been an extroverted introvert who loves time to herself but also doesn’t mind hanging out with other friends, in small capacities. However, recently, it’s taken a lot of emotional energy for me to do anything. Sometimes, I have to leave class to go to the bathroom just so I can be alone for a minute. I lock myself in, with just my thoughts, and stay there for a few minutes–until it gets to be a length of time that seems unreasonable for a bathroom trip–when I force myself to snap out of it and return to civilization. I do the same thing with my roommate. We’ll be sitting in the room, not talking, just enjoying our own thoughts, doing our own thing, and I’ll leave to go to the bathroom–just to be alone. Getting out of bed for class is a daily struggle (when is it not?) It’s not aided by the fact that the professor of my 8am gives us no reason to show up at all– attendance has no bearing on our grade, and the way he grades makes it possible to show up to very few classes and still pass. Just this morning I got out of bed and got back in it 3 times before finally deciding I should go to class. I’ll sit in the lounge at the end of my hallway and do my homework, so I can say hi to people and chat a little– be present– but I’m never actually present. Even Quizzing, the one thing that has always emotionally stimulated me– the one place I’ve always been an extrovert and not felt emotionally drained by the end– has taken so much of my energy. I have come so close to actually getting mad at the Quizzers. And I love Quizzing and the Quizzers– I rarely get to a point where I’m angry at them, or at least angry enough to get mad And I know they can tell there’s been a change in my personality. I am normally the fun, patient, excitable Quizmaster, and suddenly I’ve become the exhausted, annoyed, “no fun allowed” Quizmaster– and I don’t like it, but I don’t have the energy to pretend I have the energy. I was playing a game with my family, and about 2 or 3 turns in, I was just tired of being there and playing the game– a game I’ve always loved with people I love even more. But, I go to class, talk to my friends, and fight my way through my non desire to be around people– faking it until I make it.

I have even begun to feel a little bit spiritually exhausted too. I go to church, I help teach the 7th grade girls’ Sunday school ( I even bring up some great points and say some cool things), I coach Quizzing, I pray, I read my Bible. And yet, I feel like God is further away now then He has ever been. It’s not because He is, or because I’ve stopped trying to seek Him. It’s because I’m exhausted and I feel like He’s unreachable. He’s always felt close– like I could reach out at any time and touch Him. And now, every time I reach out, I know He’s there, but I don’t feel anything. I don’t feel any different. It kind of hurts to try because I feel like it’s taking so much of my energy to reach out to Him for me not to feel Him. He might as well be a photon of light because I know He’s there, I can see Him, I can feel Him, but every time I reach out to touch Him, it’s like He isn’t as close and as tangible as I thought. But, I read my Bible, reach out, pray, and practically beg God to take whatever burdens I have that are keeping me from seeking Him so that I can seek Him.

I have lost what little motivation I had just a week ago. I have a huge Organic Chemistry test coming up tomorrow and I haven’t really started studying. But, I also don’t really care. I know nothing, but I don’t feel stressed or motivated to learn anything. I have an 8 page paper for a class that, just a week ago, I was beyond excited to write. And now, it just seems like another paper I’m going to force my way through and probably start two days before it’s due– miserably writing every word. I’ve never loved going to work or really looked forward to it, but recently, I’ve been dreading it. I’ve been trying to come up with reasons why I just can’t show up that day. And, on days when I have a legitimate reason I can’t show up, I still feel guilty when I call in, but yet, on every other day I try to find reasons I can’t come in. But, nonetheless, I do my homework, albeit rather miserably, and, for the most part, show up to work and do my job– at least trying to have a positive attitude.

Even now, it’s 1 am while I’m writing this, and I have homework I should be doing, but I don’t really care. I’m just sitting here, typing two or three words a minute between staring out the dark window and scrolling through social media– mindlessly liking random Instagram pictures because it’s been a few posts since I’ve hit the like button. I haven’t really felt anything but nothing recently. Not the stress I know I should be feeling due to the next 2 weeks being the most stressful of my life. Not the excitement and anticipation I usually feel days before an upcoming Quiz meet. Nothing. Just some physical aches and pains and some overall fogginess. It’s weird, and I can’t explain it.

Maybe it’s because I haven’t hugged any adorable little kids in a while or pet any cute little puppies. Maybe it’s because I have a strange case of senioritis that only affects non-seniors. Maybe I’m dying from some incurable, deadly disease. I don’t really know. But I know that I’m trying my best. And that’s the best I can do.

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Doubtfully Trusting

When you’re driving, it’s probably a good idea to know where your destination is. If you’re going somewhere but you have no idea how to get there, you’ll probably end up lost, confused, and stressed out. So, before you leave, you put the address in your GPS and trust it to guide you to your destination.

Life is a lot like a road, and, if I’m being honest, I often make God my GPS. I say, “Okay God, I know where I want to go with my life. I want to get to this place and do this thing. I know the direction I need to travel, but sometimes I miss the turns and I need you to help me get there. Will you guide me?” So, I make a plan, have a destination, and listen to His voice, trusting that He’ll bring me to the place I intended to be all along. But, truthfully, God is not really meant to be a GPS. In fact, I know it’s super cliche to say, but God’s actually supposed to drive.

I’ve spent a lot of my life convincing myself I was allowing God to drive. I mean, I allowed Him to take me to Kenya, despite my defiance. I heard him whisper “go” so many times while I was shouting “stay,” but I eventually allowed Him to take me anyway. And I’m glad I did because it was life changing and indescribable. And, since I’ve been home, I’ve been searching for something that will fill the hole I have from leaving parts of myself behind. Because I left behind all the babies I held, children I played with, laughs I expressed, love I spread, Quizzing I taught, hugs I shared, and moments soon to fade from memory.

I let my heart get broken because I knew He had a better destination in mind for my heart. I fought it– I tried for as long as I could to maintain control and hold onto my plan for my life. I told myself that I was okay, that it hurt but I could fight it, and that in the end, it would turn out how I intended all along. But, I eventually jumped over to the passenger seat and said “Alright God, whatever. It hurts, but I’ll trust you.” So, I trusted Him to take me where He wanted me to be, but, all the way there I’ve been voicing my defiance and unwillingness to completely surrender.

These aren’t the only times I’ve done this. Countless times I’ve said, “Okay, I really want to go here and do this, but if you don’t want me to, I’ll listen to Your voice.” Then, I get out, move over, and let God drive. But, here’s the thing guys– I could still see the road. I could still see all the twists and turns, potholes and bumps. I let God drive, but I still had one hand on the wheel, and was prepared to brake if we needed to come to a sudden stop. I’ve been saying, “God, you’re doing a good job and all, and I’m going to let you finish. But, just to let you know, there’s some potholes coming up. If you could avoid those, that’d be great. And, by the way, you missed that turn, so you should probably make another turn up here and go back.” I was the world’s most annoying backseat driver.

It wasn’t because I didn’t trust God– I did. I just didn’t want to completely surrender my life to him. I wanted to have some control– some say. So, I backseat drove while God steered, thinking that meant God was actually driving, because I was terrified. Not having control of your life is terrifying. It’s stressful and scary– it’s uncomfortable. But, God doesn’t call us to be comfortable. He calls us to trust. And trust is more than just allowing God to drive. It’s completely surrendering everything– giving up total control, and taking your hands off the wheel. And recently, I’ve been learning to do more than trust– I’ve been learning to surrender.

This past year, God has been placing road signs in my path, hinting at me that we should turn that way. And even though I was claiming to let Him drive, He passed them and went on the way I wanted, because, being blind and all, I couldn’t actually see them. He just drove– allowing me to eventually figure out for myself that the direction we were going was filled with potholes, bumps, and discomfort. He kept making the signs bigger and more obvious– probably hoping that I’d see them. But because I’m very blind, and very stubborn, I continued to ignore them. Until one day, we were driving down the road and I screamed “STOP! I can’t do this anymore.”

“I know. Now, will you listen to Me?”

And so, here I am now, trying my hardest to give God total and complete control– to surrender my life, my comfortable, and my plans. But, for me, that’s difficult. If I can see the road at all, I can’t keep quiet– I can’t watch God pass by all the turns I want to take– I think I need to take– and willingly stay silent. So, I’ve allowed God to take control in whatever way He needs to, and, you know what He said? He said, “Rebekah, you’re kind of annoying. You keep trying to backseat drive when I am the perfect driver. So, here’s what I’m going to do. I’m kicking you out. You’re sitting in the trunk, with your eyes to the road behind us instead of ahead of us.”

So, that’s where I am now until I learn to surrender– sitting in the trunk, only able to see the road behind us. God buckled me up, promised me I’d be safe, and gave me His Words to hold onto if I ever felt unsure. And, quite honestly, I’m scared. I feel the ups and downs and bumps and rough patches and I so badly want to jump up and say “God! Watch out!” But, I’m not going to. Because He has told me to trust Him– to surrender to Him. So, I am.

For those who haven’t been keeping up with my life, just recently I changed my major. And it was the best thing I could have done for myself. But, it is also the most terrifying thing I’ve ever had to do. I was a Chemistry major. I love Chemistry, but I am not sure I was ever super passionate about Chemistry– or at least not as passionate as I am about other things. But, I had no idea what I wanted to do, and because I enjoyed it and was pretty good at it, and since I never found myself excelling at any specific subject, I chose to study Chemistry. And to tell you the truth, I was a little scared to go into anything else, because with something like that, your future is more sure, more secure. Not that any future is ever guaranteed, but at least it set me up to do something. But, I’d been wrestling for a while about what to do. Because I loved Chemistry. But I was passionate about so many other things– Bible Quizzing, writing, studying God’s Word. And it wasn’t until I was reminded sometime last year, by a rather surprising but wonderful source, that such pure and uncontrollable passion existed that I realized something was missing– something had to change.  I so desperately wanted to do something with all these passions of mine, but I didn’t know what, and I was terrified and completely unsure. I wanted to stay comfortable and, to be perfectly honest, I was slightly afraid of what others would think. But, eventually God told me to sit down, shut up, and stop letting my own fear control me and let Him take control. So, I changed my major.

I switched to cross disciplinary studies. Which means I can study Chemistry, religion and philosophy, math, and English all at the same time. I can become a jack of all trades without becoming an expert in anything. And I am so happy I did that, but it also means my future has become so much more uncertain and terrifying– it’s not sure. It’s open to so much possibility, and simultaneously so little. And like, I’m trying so hard to hold onto God and His promises, but guys, that’s not easy. I know that I am the type of person who won’t know what I want to do until I’m doing it, because there are so many things I’d be happy doing. Maybe I’ll end up being a pastor, or teaching, or travelling. Maybe I’ll take some more trips to Kenya, and elsewhere, to find that missing piece of me and spread my uncontrollable love for Quizzing. (There is so much desire and passion for Quizzing in Kenya, but they lack the resources and leadership to spread it). Maybe I’ll get a Ph. D in Chemistry or Literature. Maybe I’ll get my M. Div. Maybe I’ll end up unemployed and living in my parent’s house for the rest of my life.  Who knows? All I know now is that I am trying my hardest to surrender the hardest part of me to surrender– my life and my future– to the One who makes my future. And it takes a lot of faith. It takes faith that sometimes I”m not sure I have. But, if Joshua can believe walls can crumble simply by walking around them, Abraham can say “Here I am”, and Peter can step out onto the waves, surely I can allow myself to surrender my future.. And I know that I’ll doubt– I do doubt. I’ll struggle and fight and try to regain control of the vehicle of life. But God is helping me to be still. To know that He is God. To surrender my life and plans to Him. And, although it’s a difficult and scary time, it’s also the most peaceful and beautiful feeling ever.

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Major Life Update 

I’ve always been a stubborn person with a “fight through it” attitude and a strong intention to follow through with everything I commit to. I remember when I was little, my parents would put a baby gate in front of the staircase. And I, being the stubborn and determined child I was, would promptly push it out of the way and climb up the stairs. Then, I would sit at the top whining because I couldn’t get down. I’d wait for someone to come get me, and then proceed to do it again, all the while knowing I couldn’t get down by myself, but totally not caring because I just wanted to prove I could get up the stairs. And I was too stubborn to stop crawling up them just because I couldn’t get down them.

My life has been a lot like this. I’ve climbed mountains, gotten to the top, realized that I probably shouldn’t have climbed the mountain, but had no idea how to get down. Except now that I’m older, I’m too stubborn to ask for help getting down. Because if I climbed the mountain alone, I should be able to get down it alone. But sometimes, I know the way down, I just need someone to give me a little push. And recently, I was given a push down my newest mountain.

When I began this semester, I was signed up for 18 class credits, two of which were sciences, and one of which included Organic Chemistry, arguably the most difficult of all the sciences. And, somewhere along the way, I ended up committing to between 12 and 18 hours of work a week. Plus, I coach Bible Quizzing and agreed to be an assistant teacher in the 7th grade girls Sunday School class at my church. And of course, I have various clubs, social activities, chapel requirements, etc, that I must attend to as a college student. (A post about that can be read here.)

This has always been my mountain in life– my desire to do it all. I so badly want to do everything. I want to get a degree in Chemistry, coach Quizzing, work, teach Sunday School, participate in clubs, volunteer around campus, help my friends out, and sleep. But guys, the biggest thing I’m learning in life, is that I just can’t do it all. I have to say no to good things because I need to leave myself free time for the best things. But, because I’m stubborn, I decided to give this 18 credit hours piled on top of 16 hours of work mixed with hours of everything else thing a chance.

It wasn’t terrible for a while. I managed to get most of my work done and still get mostly enough sleep. But, I can only survive on 5 or less hours of sleep a night for so long before I crack. The more I got into the semester, the more miserable I got. I was sitting in the lounge of my dorm one night, alternating between my physics and organic homework, and I was miserable. Really miserable. I had never felt this miserable, and I didn’t even think I ever could feel this miserable doing something I loved. Days later, I cracked. I called my dad at 12:15 in the morning in tears. “I’m dropping out of college, just to let you know,” I said, tears streaming down my face. My dad listened, despite the fact that he himself was exhausted, and he provided support and fatherly love. After he told me not to be ridiculous for trying to drop out of college.

The internal conflict I had been having for a while mixed with all the stress finally built up to an unbearable amount. After some of my gen ed classes last semester, I discovered I had a passion for God’s Word greater than the one I already knew I had, and I knew God was calling me to do something about it. But, I wasn’t going to change my major because I still loved chemistry so much. So, I did what I thought would satisfy the passion I had and the desire I could feel God calling me to: I added a Biblical studies minor. As a result, I added an extra class, bringing me to 18 credits a semester.

And I said, “it’s fine,” everyday, while trying to convince myself it was, in fact, fine. But, in case you haven’t figured out by now, it most certainly was not fine. Which is why I called my dad in tears and told him I was dropping out of college.

One terrible day and dinner visit home later, and I felt so much better. I felt peaceful, like the largest weight in the world had been lifted off my shoulders. Which brings me to the purpose of this post– my major life update. This update is actually two-fold. First, I decided I had to give something up. I can’t do it all, as much as I want to. As much as I love it all and struggle to say no to things, especially things I’ve already committed to, something had to give.

I was talking to my parents about what could go. My dad said, “were you anyone else, I’d tell you to drop Sunday School or Quizzing…”

“NO!” I exclaimed, before he was even able to finish his thought.

He explained how he would have told me to give those up, but he can’t because I have to do those things. I belong there, I’m doing good things, God’s working through me, etc. So, I couldn’t give up on those. And my work schedule had already begun to decrease, and it would continue to decrease. Nonetheless, something else had to go. Which left a class. But here’s the thing– I didn’t want to give one of those up either. Because, first of all, why should my academics be the thing that gets pushed aside? And secondly, dropping a class at this point in the semester seemed useless. Plus, I’d always been a “smart” kid, and dropping a class kind of made me feel like I was a failure. (But guys, dropping a class does not make you a failure. You do what is necessary for your sanity.)

I finally came to the realization that the best way to solve my problem would be to drop Physics. Here’s the thing– Physics is not that difficult of a class. In fact, it may be the easiest of the sciences I’ll ever have to take. But, I don’t have time to put into it, and I was already behind and struggling, and my other classes, particularly Organic, were suffering because of it. So, I set up a meeting with my adviser to get his approval and dropped Physics.

Which leads me to part two of my major life update. While discussing my life with my parents, they asked me what I wanted to do with my life. I froze and realized I have no idea. My friend asked me the other day what I saw myself doing in the future, and I didn’t know how to respond then either. My parents brought up the fact that I like to do it all. I enjoy a lot of things. I love science, math, English, Scripture, history, and most of all, learning. My dad said “I could see you doing a lot of things. I could see you working a job, or being a Pastor (as if being a Pastor isn’t a job).” And the more I thought about it, the more I realized, there are so many things in life I could be happy doing. I’d be happy working in a lab, working at a church, travelling the world doing who knows what, or even teaching. And, to be quite honest, I’m not entirely sure that I’ll know what I want to do until I am doing it.

So, here’s the exciting part of my news– I’m seriously, seriously, considering changing my major. In fact, I’ve done everything but fill out the official paperwork. I’ve told my parents (well, actually, they told me), I’ve told my friends, I’ve mentioned it to my adviser, and now, I’m telling all of you.

Some of you will be disappointed to hear that I’m switching from Chemistry. Because those of you who’ve known me a long time know I love Chemistry. Others will be disappointed to find out that I am not switching to Biblical Studies. Because anyone who’s seen me at Quizzing or talked to me in the past year would know that I have a burning passion for that too. But, instead, I’m still trying to do it all. I’m switching to Cross Disciplinary studies.

I have not yet decided exactly what 3 areas I’ll be exploring. My main area will either be Chemistry or General Science (probably whichever one I’m closer to completing at this point), with one of my other concentrations being Biblical Studies. As far as the third area goes, I’m torn between math and English. Being my sister’s sister and grandfather’s granddaughter, I love English (and math). I love writing and reading various types of literature, but I am also only one class away from completing math (in fact, if I continued with my Chemistry degree, than I could easily get a math minor with one simple 300-level math class).

So, basically, I have no idea what I’m doing. I have no idea what I”m doing with my degree, or my life. But, it’s fine. And I mean it this time, because I’ve got God on my team, and God, being my homeboy and all, knows exactly what He’s doing.

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