Finding Freedom

I recently had a very vulnerable experience.

As an English major, I am used to submitting my words and thoughts to my professors' scrutinizing eyes. I have grown accustomed to negative feedback in the margins and thrill when I receive the grade I hoped for. But even with this familiarity with criticism, there is nothing like your most intimate thoughts undergoing review.

Since I was a child, I have crafted stories. Some of those stories only played out in my head, but nevertheless, I have always considered myself a writer of fiction. My first year in college, I submitted one of the few stories I had captured on paper to the survey of my creative writing cohort. To my surprise, they liked it. They praised it. They told me I was good enough.

Yet, as those who write will attest, one negative comment can squelch a mound of positive ones. Self-doubt is my greatest enemy, and I have been defeated more than victorious. This semester, when I submitted another creative work, my professor didn't say well done. My classmates found errors. My heart told me I failed.

How do we recover from wounds that feel like failure? How do we cope what feel like a mistake?

I have realized that succeeding in what I love is a very personal experience. No one else can tell me how or when I will feel accomplished; its internal. I remember the days of writing--the lonely hours, the late nights, the broken hearted moments--that made up that piece. To me, every word was exactly what I wanted to write and allowed me a form of expression that I couldn't find anywhere else. I didn't write it to benefit others. I wrote it because I needed to write it.

I've learned that no matter how others respond to my decisions, big or small, I have to know that I am okay with my choice--and then live with the consequences. Currently, my greatest choice every day is to follow Christ. I choose to walk with Him despite my doubts. I choose to submit to Him despite my fear. And I choose Him every day because I know that what He has for me will always be for my benefit.

When I graduate in Spring, I have another choice. I can walk a journey of justification, always explaining and reconciling my decisions to others, hoping that I always please the majority. Or I can take the path before me, even if I end up running backwards, sideways, or upside-down.

Change is good. It fuels trust, creativity, and opportunity. I look forward to beginning a life where I am allow to fall on my face and stand up again, not the least concerned that dirt still clings to my cheek.

That is freedom.

Better Than Anything

I am an aunt. This is by far one of my greatest life achievements. While, yes, its arguable that I have done nothing to earn this honor, I still value it as an important part of my identity.

When I was 18, I got a first degree black belt in Mixed Martial Arts. It took me five years of constant bruises, sore muscles, scratched cheeks, and (only one) concussion before I finally did it. I worked hard--and I was proud to do so. The day that dark piece of cloth was tied around my waist, I walked like a new woman. 

In college, I became an RA. My mother and sister had been RAs before me and the desire to be one too had been with me since I was a child. The day I got the news that I would be on the small team of eight student leaders, I felt as if I had won the spiritual lottery. The Lord has blessed me! I declared. 

Only days after receiving the news, I was hired for the first time as an employee at Hume Lake, a summer camp I had longed to work for. Not only was I going to be living in the forrest on the greatest adventure of my life, but I would be working in one of the most coveted jobs in camp. (Who doesn't want to play with babies and children all day and sleep in on the weekends?) 

The elation at gaining each new piece of my identity made me feel whole and rounded. It was like every side of my self was becoming what it ought to be, what it longed to be. 

But I am no longer concerned about those things that once gave me such excitement and purpose. Each of these pieces are still parts of who I am, but I no longer sweat with the goal of improving my boxing skills, or thrill at the idea of being an RA, or swoon to think of the adventure of being a Hume Lake Summer Staffer. Now, as a senior in college, my identity is being reworked. I am placed yet again under the steady hand of the One who made the life I loved so much in the past.

I think it is easy to be concerned about where our lives are headed. Its easy to worry that it may all flop and that we will end up unimpressive and alone. Yet when I look back at the life that God has allowed me to live, I wonder why I worry at all? Each one of those pieces of who I am are now no more daunting or terrifying than buttoning my pants or brushing my teeth. But if you ask a three-year-old to brush his teeth or button her pants, he or she is going to struggle with it. Frustration will kick in, tears may come, and certainly that child may run off bad-breathed and naked. We don't blame the child, however, but instead patiently allow for another try, another attempt, and help them put on those pants and clean that mouth appropriately. 

I never want to reach a point where I stop allowing myself to learn, to be the newbie. At one point, every major accomplishment in my life was an insurmountable task that I couldn't believe I was capable of doing. 

When God called Isaiah to preach the truth to Israel, he said something I found amazing. After years of no success, God says, 

“It is too small a thing for you to be my servant

to restore the tribes of Jacob 

and bring back those of Israel I have kept.

I will also make you a light for the Gentiles,

that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth.” 

(Isaiah 49:6--italics my own)

God doesn't look at Isaiah and ask him to stay where he is. He calls him to bigger and greater things than he ever could have imagined. And what if Isaiah had said, "No thanks, God. I have learned how to do this whole failed ministry thing really well, and I don't feel like starting something new right now--I'm not sure it will work anyway." Had he done that, I would never have had the chance to be influenced by those words so many years later. 

As I look forward, I know my identity will change again. I will likely gain new relationships, skills, diplomas, titles, jobs, responsibilities. But what has and will never change is that I belong to a God who sees me for who I am and is not content to leave me there. I, and you, are forever being changed by God into the one we were created to be. So I will go on, contented that what is before me is better than anything I could have left behind.