Earlier this week, I experienced debilitating fear about going to college in 102 days. In the course of 24 hours, I went from being excited about college, to absolutely convinced I could not go. I told people I was going to take a gap year; my brain coming up with irrational reasons why I wasn't ready. I wasn’t healthy enough yet; people wouldn’t love me in this state; people would see me at my worst and I wasn’t ready for that.
I thank the Lord for wise people who are able to enter the chaos and shame of these moments and gently coax me out of my pain cycle. As I poured out all the reasons why I essentially wasn’t good enough for college yet, to one of these people, her simple answer shattered my perception of what I thought college would be like. “If college for you is like taking that first jump while cliff jumping, it doesn’t matter how long you wait. That cliff is still going to be there. You’re going to have to jump eventually. My fear, is that if you took this gap year, we’d be having this exact same conversation next year.” Her words were a piercing arrow of truth. I had this built up perception of college. I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted to be proud of who I was. I didn’t ever want to be seen at my worst. And then I realized how impossible that was. We’re human. We’re never going to be perfect. And I can guarantee you as sure as I’m sitting here (drinking an almond flat white coffee and eating gluten free cake outside my favorite hipster coffee shop...ultimate white girl status here...the sun and shadows creating awkward tan lines on my arms), if I’d taken the gap year, I’d just keep on coming up with reasons why I shouldn’t ever go to college.
As the reality of college hit me this week, it dug up some of the fears and lies I’d buried months ago. I was putting the fear of what others would think of me before the way Jesus already thinks of me. I was seeing myself through the eyes of my past, through the lens of shame. I assumed that as soon as people discovered who I’d been and the things I’d struggled with, that they’d hate me. That they’d refuse to be around me. That was shame. Shame says I am my mistakes. Shame says that I am my past. It says that my past is my whole story. Shame keeps me running away from the dark (who I used to be) instead of stepping into the light (my present; who God made me to be). God has been making these things increasingly clear. If I keep running from the past and hiding from the inevitable, people will see me through the lens of my past. If I give shame the power to define me, it will. And others will define me by that too. But if I step into the light, the present that God has for me: it is there where I will experience abundance, nurturing relationships, and grace. It is in stepping into the light that we find we are loved for who we are at our core. Children of God. It is there where people long to be around us because of our compassion. Our laughter. Our hobbies. Our personality. Is it there where we find LOVE because the mistakes we’ve made in the past have nothing to do with what’s in store for us in the future. What we’ve done has nothing to do with our identity, with who we are.
So let’s quit hiding and running away from the dark. Let’s start stepping into the light (which looks different for all of us). For me, it’s deciding to define myself as Natalie. A Jesus follower. A Child of God. Fully known. Fully loved. Clothed in grace. Sensitive. Tender Hearted. Slow to complain. Alive. Worshipper. Lover of Jesus, worship, coffee dates, intentional conversations, chacos, Enos, bumper stickers, jam sessions, moleskins.
Cedarville University, see you in 102 days :)
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