Decisions, decisions

Fear cripples.

I think the hardest thing about growing up has been making decisions. And I realize now that the difficulty has usually come from my fear.

Fear of outcomes. Fear of missed opportunities. Fear of rejection. Fear of loneliness, of never getting married, of seeming prideful, or of not seeming assertive enough. Fear of upsetting someone. Fear of failing. Fear of not living up to my potential. Fear of wasting my life. Fear of being (gasp) normal.

I've come to see that at times, fear has crippled me. It's consumed me. It's deadened me to the beautiful light of walking with God.

A lot of peace comes with realizing that God is in control. It's so easy to say that. It's a song, I'm sure it's a keychain, and I'm even pretty sure it's on a t-shirt. But it's true - God uses all things, redeems all things, even uses my mistakes to prepare me for the future. I believe a key to this is asking for forgiveness when I do sin, asking for wisdom which He promises to give, and learning to walk with Him over the long-haul. Toddlers trip and fall when they're learning to walk. So do I. Massively. But over time, I walk more closely with Him. I still faceplant. My shoestrings still come untied. But He keeps me walking with Him.

A lot of peace in decision making comes with realizing that God is good. I struggle with this. I am so quick to ask God why He made me this way, or why my life is like this, and not like that.

Thank goodness Amber Gentry asked me once, "Do you see you're like the clay that says to the Potter, 'Why did You make me this way?'" Actually, she didn't say that. First, she said, "Do you see you have sin in your heart?" and THEN she said, "Do you see you're like the clay that says to the Potter, 'Why did You make me this way?"

My mind flashes to Romans 9 more and more often now. I have no right to arrogantly question God, as if I know better than Him. He knows what I need. He promises to give it.

A lot of peace comes from realizing that I am called to rejoice in so far as I share in Jesus' sufferings. In other words, I am called to joyfully live a life of obedience to God by following Christ, whose life was defined by truth and service and suffering. So much of the anxiety surrounding my decision-making has involved my self-preservation. I want to choose the best thing for me. I want to do whatever the stink I can to keep loneliness as far away as possible. I want to do whatever I can to keep my life from being boring. I want to make every effort to control my circumstances so that they will produce results X, Y and Z.

As if I knew. As if I had that kind of power. As if I could possibly fully obey God while wasting so much energy shielding myself from suffering.

The reality is I am called to emulate Christ. I am called to mimic God, who suffered as man. I am called to model myself after that God-made-flesh who was rejected, denied, sold, beaten, judged, lied to, lied about, who followed God alone, who wept, bled, was homeless, who woke up EARLY (yikes!), who was treated as more deserving of punishment than a murderer, and who was beaten, tortured, flogged, nailed, suffocated, murdered -- in obedience to the Father, for the salvation of others, for the glory of God.

Decisions are easier to make when God drives it home in my heart that I'm not to avoid suffering. I am called to live as Christ did. Which means following God to dangerous places - for my pride, my safety, my comfort, and for my oft-raging approval idol.

A lot of peace comes from looking at what I am called to do, rather than what I am trying to avoid. When I realize the general commands of Scripture: to do good, to love justice, to walk humbly with God, to love my neighbor as myself, to present everyone mature, to make disciples, to seek unity, to speak words that are edifying, to make an impact on this world that extends into the next one - that gives me a much sturdier frame of reference to make decisions with. When I realize that the God of the universe is calling me to love the woman next to me, and that because He is in control, and He is good, and He Himself loved difficult people in hard places, my desire to obey grows. My faith in God's provision for me if I take a risk grows. The peace in my heart grows because I'm thinking about the call of God, not the fear of suffering.

A lot of peace comes from realizing that no matter what, I will suffer.

In the best job in the world, which is the job I have right now, I suffer. There are days when I feel utterly insufficient. There are days when I get one piece of advice from one colleague, and a completely contradictory piece of advice from another colleague. There are days when people say not-encouraging things to me. There are days when I say not-encouraging things to other people. There are sacrifices that have to be made: of time, of energy, of the ability to hang out with my brother and sister-in-law anytime I want. But oh, this job is good, and I FIRMLY believe this is God's call for me. In this job there is joy, more joy than seems fair to have in a job! More laughter than seems possible in an office. More snacks brought in by my boss than I'd ever imagine a boss bringing. But this job is not free of suffering.

When I've made mistakes, I've suffered. I have brought depression into my life through sin. I have given satan a foothold through my anger. The list goes on. God has graciously redeemed those things.

When I've done everything the best I can, I've suffered. When I've obeyed and tried my hardest, things have seemed to fall down around me. Is my life ruined? No. Sometimes I was afraid it would be. But my life is good. I see fruit in my life. God calls me to His purpose. He never gets tired of using me. He never refuses to forgive me when I come with a repentant heart. He never stops being holy, and righteous, and good.

A lot of peace comes in decisions when I realize that God is in control, that He is good, that I am called to follow Christ, and that no matter what I do, I will suffer.

When I understand the goodness and realness of God - that He is the ONLY one that will walk with me entirely through every situation for the rest of my life... decisions get easier to make.

He is with me.

Whew.

Moving

I'm starting to get really nostalgic about moving and this whole leaving Austin business (I don't like the leaving Austin part). As in, Bryan Adams just came on my iTunes and I'm getting teary eyed.

This feels very similar to when I graduated from high school and it was time to move on to Austin. I had no idea what life in Austin would bring. And it's amazing to think about all the tremendous things God has done in and through me, others, and events here. It's funny how during my last two moves (Dallas to Austin, and this one), things seem to have settled so much pretty shortly before it was time to go.

In Dallas I had been lonely for much of high school. Had lots of friends, but was always ready to move on, go somewhere else, try something new. It was restlessness that drove me to dream of a new place. By junior year, the darkness of doubt and questions made me not just humanly lonely, but spiritually lonely. But God provided the most amazing friends I could have asked for, and just when it was time to leave.

So I came to Austin. And here I met challenges bigger than any I would ever imagine: the darkest days of doubt (without God, there is no true peace or hope), depression, anxiety, fear, my family being stripped from me, my idols being stripped from me, my self-confidence being stripped away, all so that God could break me and mercifully put me together as a new creation, newly aware of who He is and how good He always will be. I have seen friends hurt worse than I could fathom, I've seen hallmates chase vanity in ways that only lead to heartache, and I've watched respected leaders fall amid lies and deception.

But what I also encountered here was a light and a song like I've never seen or heard. I met Believers who woke at 8 a.m. to pray at the Tower. I met men who make it their mission to plant churches among college students. I met women who pour out the truth of God into younger women with the passion of someone who understands that their treasure really does belong at the foot of Jesus' throne in Heaven. I have met people who live for THAT day, not this day. And yet those same people have more joy in the present than would make sense to the normal observer.

Five years in Austin. Five years in God's grace. Five years of chasing truth, running from truth, being ripped apart by truth, and learning that truth is the sweetest honey to my lips I will ever find. Truth has put a song in my heart. Truth overrides how ugly that same heart often is. Truth leads me, guides me, assures me.

Five years in Austin - and an encounter with truth. And it's that same truth that tells me I have to leave.

Illusions of Safety

As I drove home home tonight, I saw the big fingers of lightning reach down across the sky. I’d seen brief flashes of lightning as I read on the dock this evening. Now, hours later, here I was on my way home after dinner and the storm was just now arriving in Austin. I thought about going to sleep, and I was a little scared (go ahead and laugh at me!). Then I realized: if I’m scared here, what on earth is it going to be like next semester? If I get an internship, I’ll be somewhere on planet Earth, and that’s literally as much as I know. If I get hired, I’ll probably be in South or Southeast Asia, South America, or maybe the African bush. In other words, I have no idea where I will be sitting 4 months from now.

And then it hit me: There’s only so much truth to this feeling of safety I have here in Austin. I mean, here, I’m safe in one sense of the word. Structures protect me: buildings, police, a justice system I've trusted my whole life. If you compared the crime reports from my neighborhood with those from a neighborhood just a little further east, you would say I am very "safe."

But this safety is deceiving. Even if my life is completely “safe,” and I never get robbed, or seriously ill, or even majorly inconvenienced, even then . . . one day, I will die. And once I do, no earthly safety will help me. Only what is truly permanent will remain.

That’s why, in another sense, I might be safer in a more "dangerous" location: I would lose the ability to lie to myself about my safety. Yes, I would be in more immediate physical danger. But my soul would probably be safer because much more of my faith would be in God, rather than in God plus the APD, or in God plus my local government, or in God plus the fact that I live in a certain neighborhood.

The Bible is replete with warnings not to fear. Tonight I read in Luke 21:34, "But watch yourselves lest your hearts be weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and cares of this life, and that day come upon you suddenly like a trap." Though Jesus was teaching a parable to a specific group of people at that time, the eternal truths of His teachings apply to us today. I can't help but think that my physical safety is one of the "cares of this life." One day, I'll receive an eternal body. Any suffering I may incur now will no longer pain me on that day.

So here’s to safety. Not the fleeting safety that will vanish with my last breath, but true safety: the safety that comes from an awareness of how short my life is, how fleeting anything on earth is, and the fact that faith in Christ’s death and resurrection is my only means to real life, both now and in the future. True safety is not found in a human or a piece of infrastructure.