Fact #44

It's easy to underestimate who God made you to be.


I retreat, and very quickly.  Like a cowardly ninja.

Upon my arrival to seminary I was extremely exited...and petrified.  The idea of my ignorance being revealed is possibly my greatest fear.  I am no brilliant theologian, nor am I advanced in years to credit any "wisdom" I may happen upon and luckily regurgitate in some eloquent fashion.  This idea fastened itself soundly to my heart as I met others in my classes who, now thinking about it, could have very well been worried about the same things.  But in my clouded lens, they all appeared to be intellectual adversaries of whom I had to conquer...one by one...systematically, and with a reassuring "Christian" smile.

In confessing my fears to Allen, Janèe, Dougal, and others, they reassured me that, while others may be stuck in their doctrine, argue and condemn, look down on the younger student (i.e. me), that God put me here for a reason, that honesty is all I could offer, and that it was up to me to then be honest rather than "right," whatever that looked like.

So I set mind and focused on being just that: honest, not "right."  I continued on with my studies, and instead of balking at an idea I would receive that would be contrary to a strongly promoted idea of one of my peers, I would offer it, humbly, but honestly.  And if I saw another student's idea that I found compelling, I would tell them so and thank them for it, whether I agreed with it in the end or not.  It's an intimidating place to be, where they ask you to send your very soul's conviction into a ring of others', seeing which survive.  Some people have grown up with a very specific, laid out foundation; I was lucky enough to have to create one myself, via trail and error.  Thank God the Spirit led me to solid people and convictions.

Somehow, in the process of learning how to do this, today someone told me I actually changed their way of thinking about some pretty hefty theological reasoning.  My mouth fell open; this man had run the Bible college odyssey, was a fair bit older than me, and had a thorough knowledge of theologians and their claims.  It would not have surprised me if he could have performed the entire Bible as a theatrical monologue.  And he was telling me that I changed his thinking.  God is showing me how to listen, so his message can be spoken through me.  Wow.

Needless to say, things are looking up.

Where do you see God working?
In my time; He's making me more and more aware of how I'm spending it, pushing me to get things done way ahead of time so I can actually enjoy the free time He is blessing me with.

What do you hear God saying?
"Wait.  Rest.  Restore."

How do you see God working?
Giving me motivation, running alongside me, highlighting exactly what I need to see, and, in doing so, making homework an exciting task, of all things.

Fact #18

The Truth shall set you free...from yourself.

I'm going to see a shrink tomorrow.

The part of myself that is still incredulous about this fact depends on such an informal term to make herself feel better. For years I'd planned on going, but could never quite bite the bullet. "The Counseling Center's for crazy people. You're not crazy, you're just busy. You're a student leader, for Pete's sake. Everyone has bad days, especially with so much on your plate." And yet, honesty gnawed at the back of my mind like a rabid monkey: There are more to your bad days than most, kiddo.



I had finally convinced myself I'd go last year, but my mind was having difficulty communicating that decision to my feet. Day after day, I'd walk past it with a small sense of guilt that grew with each passing day. But, alas, summer arrived and I left a place in which psychoanalysis is replaced with hiking, and any 12-step program is laughed at outright. So, in came the Lake Michigan breezes, and out went all desires of help.

From there, I steeled my mind once more, persuading myself into believing I was invincible, or at least supposed to be. This facade sufficed...until I returned to school, to my usual trek back and forth past what intimidated me most, and back to my old mantra: You don't need it. You don't need it. You don't need it.

Then I started reading the book Eat, Pray, Love. Elizabeth Gilbert, the book's author and protagonist, also dealt with depression.

"I tried so hard to fight the endless sobbing. I remember asking myself one night, while I was curled up in the same old corner of my same old couch in tears yet again over the same old repetition of sorrowful thoughts, "Is there anything about this scene you can change, Liz?" And all I could think to do was stand up, while still sobbing, and try to balance on one foot in the middle of my living room. Just to prove that--while I couldn't stop the tears or change my dismal interior dialogue--I was not yet totally out of control: at least I could cry hysterically while balanced on one foot. Hey, it was a start."

Now, my situation is nothing like Gilbert's. For one, I don't bother going to the couch, as our's is right by our window. I prefer wallowing in my personal doom by grabbing my pillow, lying in the bathtub, and drawing the curtain until B finds me. Secondly, I'm not a critically-acclaimed author being payed to jet-set across the world. What I could resonate with, however, was that desire to control something, anything, even if it were something so ridiculous as posing like an emo flamingo for a couple minutes.

But I've come to realize this is out of my control. As much as this could depress me further, it doesn't, because I'm not alone. The center isn't for crazy people, it's for healthy people. The book's central quote by Sheryl Louise Moller, "Tell the truth, tell the truth, tell the truth," has become my new mantra.

Because really, what's worse than lying to yourself about yourself?