Second Chances

After a lovely graduation at my alma mater and an awesome commencement speech from one of my favorite high school teachers, I had every intention of welcoming friends into the high-school-graduate club, taking a few pictures, and heading home to enjoy the beautiful and warm evening. I planned to write a blog post and add some supporters to my e-mail update list for while I am overseas before going to bed.

 I was feeling like quite the independent woman, to say the least. (Cue the “independent black woman who don’t need no man!”) Walking back to my car after the ceremony tonight, in my heels with my fancy purse, I relished (maybe a bit too forwardly) that I was a twenty year college student with my life before me and trip to Asia on the horizon. I even got the random urge to roll down my windows and turn up the radio and sing Abandon’s “New Years Day” much too loudly on the thirty minute drive home. It was fantastic.

Then I glanced down and realized I had missed a call from my mom. I called her back and we played a short round of phone tag. She called me back again and asked me if I had left graduation yet and where I was.

Pause with me for a moment. Here I am. Independent. Driving my own car. I have been at college on and off for two years, during which time I do not call my mom every time I leave or arrive somewhere, like I once did during my first years as a licensed driver. My mom was even at graduation, though she was required to sit with the other teachers while I sat with a friend, and she told me she was leaving as soon as the ceremony was over, but that I could stay as long as I wanted. So why did she call me? It felt like overkill.

Believe me, I absolutely love my mom. But there was something that irked me about her phone call. Sometimes I feel like I am at this strange and confusing crossroads between child and adult. Legally, I can order things online, drive unrestricted, live by myself, and a host of other things. One more year and I’ll be legal in more ways as well.

Yet at the very same time, I am so incredibly dependent. Just hours earlier, my mom bought my dinner at Moe’s and was reminding me that I have to rely on someone to come pick me up from the airport when I fly back to the US from Asia.

And when it comes to God, I need him to. Sometimes I hate admitting that.

I came home from college excited about this trip to Asia. I came home tired, so tired, but ready to learn and grow (and read and knit and run) this summer. And I was doing well, too. I had a system for getting up at a decent time, eating a healthy breakfast and doing a devotional time, then heading to the YMCA for a good workout and practicing for a 5K.

In time, I began slipping out of the schedule. I got prideful. I stayed up too late and woke up too late. I didn’t do my devotions; I stopped seeing God in the little things. I slipped up. Earlier today, I got upset for no reason. I lost my phone and blamed it on everyone but myself. I became disappointed in myself for a side cramp and a leg-spasm-thing that kept me from running today. I yelled at my brother.

When I don’t go to God for the daily (spiritual) bread I need each day, I sometimes wonder how I make it through the day. It’s awful. There is this God who is sovereign over everything and who loves me and I continue to ignore him and his pursuit of me because reading the Bible is “boring” or I’m “tired” or there’s “so much” to do. How stupid is that?

Tonight, driving with the windows down and “New Years Day” loud, I thought about second chances. Today did not go exactly as planned, although it ended well. When I mess up, whether I’m struggling with a bad habit sin or a major struggle sin, whether I’m just not seeing God or actively rebelling against God, it should bring me to (good) guilt - the kind that leads to repentance.

Repentance is not an “I’m sorry” and move on. It’s a changing “I’m sorry.” Repentance means that I hate the sin and I am so grateful that God would love me through and in spite of it. In reality, God does not see my sinful self, but rather the holy Jesus covering over me. And while God sees Jesus covering me, I am being redeemed and made holy. I am in the process of sanctification. I am being saved.

Am I there yet? Definitely not. But I must believe that God is working. God is moving. I am being sanctified. I am being made to look more like him.

And I must have patience with myself along the way. God is a God of second chances and it’s okay to need him desperately, because I do. A lot.

What I'm Listening To...

"New Year's Day" - Abandon

"You Are" - Tenth Avenue North

"You Are My King (Amazing Love)" - Newsboys

Check out my 30 Before 30 Blog: doing thirty things in the next ten years. Want to get e-mail updates  while I'm in Asia for five weeks? Use the form in the post below. Comment with your thoughts on repentance!

Switchfoot on the Drive Home and “Boys”

Yesterday, I drove home a different way for the first time. I had my windows down and the radio way too loud, letting Switchfoot and this surprisingly warm February speak to my soul. It was such a blessing.

Recently, my heart’s been breaking over relationships. For one, Student Government elections tend to bring out the worst in people. I left the Open Forum early, but I heard it got a little heated towards the end. And I heard some slightly accusatory questions before I left. Why? Are we Christians when we’re going to church and feeding the homeless, but not when we’re choosing the next SGA president? I’m aware that SGA is not a “religious” organization, but we are all Christians and I think a little more should have been said for the character of the candidates. Like, who is connected to a church and serving whole-heartedly? My favorite teacher in high school once said that the best way to find out if a boy is a man is to ask him how many trenches he’s dug. Hard work usually makes for excellent character.

Speaking of which, this whole issue with “boys” and “men” intrigues me. A couple weekends ago, a good friend and I went to visit our mutual friends at a nearby college. At one point in the evening, one of our friends was talking about her developmental psychology class last semester in which the professor would not let any student refer to people of their own age group as “girls” or “boys.” The professor required students to say “women” and “men.” (This was because college students are physically, mentally, and legally adults.)

Interestingly, I’ve seen that when we’re upset with each other, we refer to each other as if we were children. Last week, in less than a two hour time frame, two friends came to me to talk about “boys” who they termed as “stupid.” I listened to their stories. And yes, the males in the circumstances made some stupid decisions. But in all honesty, it pained me to hear my female friends describe our brothers in this way. All of the guys mentioned in these conversations profess to be Christians. Yes, they may do some not-so-smart stuff, but they are not “stupid boys.” They are 19 to 20-something-year-old men who serve the same God we do.

Have you ever seen this picture on a book or T-shirt? I laughed the very first time I saw it. I mean, all girls (there I go again…) understand it because all of us have been hurt by a guy at one time or another. Or multiple times.  But today it just makes me angry.


One of my guy friends is particularly fond of the word “destroy” and he often uses it to describe the way he feels after a good philosophical argument destroys what he thought he knew. Recently, however, he also used it to explain the way a good friend of his was destroyed by his ex-girlfriend. It caught me off-guard when my friend wrote, “…you're not a guy if a girl hasn't destroyed you at some point.” I would agree that (vice versa) is true for girls as well. But anyway, my point is that girls (women) do stupid things, too. We often don’t realize it, because girls and guys do stupid things in different ways.

That’s why that picture makes me angry. Why, when we all do stupid things or do good things stupidly, do we call each other stupid? Hey, does the Golden Rule to treat others the way we want to be treated or the Christian mandate to love your neighbor go out the window when a guy hurts you?

I’m not minimizing the pain, believe me. After my dad left when I was eight, I’ve been sensitive to the pain that male-female relationships cause. And most recently, the loss of a good guy friend and the ministry we shared. It’s been months now, and I can honestly say that I’ve forgiven him. I’m moving on. I’m healing. Good friends have been pouring into me, helping me release the pain and to stop holding on to what happened. I like to use it as a shield, to keep me from getting close to guys again, and friends have been showing me how to love with boundaries, not shields, and to learn to trust again.

In no way am I saying your pain from a male-female relationship isn’t real. But the thing we must remember is that we are all broken people. What happened is not okay, but you are okay. You will be okay. God is in the process of restoring broken people. And that guy? He will be okay. Healing and moving on will come. And it will come when you two are working through it separately. Switchfoot sings an awesome and deep song about some healing and moving on.

I’m asking that we learn to love each other despite and through our shortcomings. Yes, sin hurts. Like crap. But what about forgiveness? What about love?

Let me close this post…

• Guys (men), your sisters have been hurt. A lot of us are deeply terrified of dating. Yes, it would be nice, but we are striving to pursue what God wants for us, and to work on our personal healing and goals before we begin a relationship. I speak for many of us: please just be our brothers. There will be time for pursuing girls romantically.
• Girls (women), your brothers have been hurt. A lot of them are afraid and apprehensive of dating. Yes, they would probably love to be dating, but they want to pursue God’s healing and God’s purposes for their lives before a dating relationship. I can’t speak for them, but I do know that they admire us as their sisters and we should continue to be there for them the way sisters should. Dating will come in time.

Overall, keep loving. No matter what, we are still brothers and sisters.

“Your love for one another will prove to the world that you are my disciples.” (John 13:35)

Welcome Home

Nothing is more calming than a breezy summer evening and nothing de-stresses me more than a car ride. So, of course, the Sunday night of finals week, I'm taking the first opportunity to get off campus. I rolled down my windows, turned up the Christian radio, and drove to my favorite gas station down the only major street of the little town I go to college in. Dusk was settling in, lights were flickering on, the air smelled like summer was coming, and the breeze was so warm and inviting.

And you know what? I realized I was at home.

It was a traditional late spring / summer thing for me when I lived at my old house to drive out to the gas station or CVS for gas, milk, or something random in the evenings. It was a year or more ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday. It was like taking a chill pill or something, just to get away. I was finding my first breath of independence from my mom and brother. I remember the different routes I would take when I wanted something new. I remember getting lost that one time. I remember thinking this old guy was following me. I remember turning the radio up so loud I thought the neighbors could hear me.

And that made my old house home. I lived there for almost ten years, and it was home. The house I actually grew up in. I walked in that door a scrawny little 4th grader and walked out a confident eighteen year old. There's a little piece of me that would give seriously anything to have that back.

But now I'm a nineteen year old college student. I've got plans and goals and dreams that are suddenly both bigger and smaller than the dreams of my high school days. My hopes are so much more tangible and so much more realized, but also so much deeper now. It's a little frightening, but also a lot of fun.

Along with coming to college is the sudden realization that I've got to adjust to a new home. I don't know if you've kept up with me, but I moved from my old home of ten years to my new home this past June. However, since I've been here at college, I've only been at my new house for three or four months out of the year that my family has lived there. So, college is my home away from home.

It's taken this long, my whole Freshman year, to finally feel completely at home here. Finding a church home helped, growing a group of friends helped, diving into a student ministry helped, eating out and supporting the community helped, but I didn't feel at home until I drove down Big A Road with my windows rolled down and my radio turned up loud.

For me, it's the little things that make me feel at home and at peace. It's finding a little alcove in the rocks surrounding the waterfall on my campus. It's the look in my pastor's daughter's face when I carry her on my shoulders. It's staying up late talking with my roommate, suitemates, and future roommate. It's driving into town by myself on a Sunday evening to get gas.

Yes, I'm home. The bad news is that I leave to go back home on Tuesday. :) Oh well, there's always next semester! And I will be using this summer to spend more time at my new house and in our new city. And, of course, with my family.