"God works in
mysterious ways"
After my confirming
my offer of admission from Tyndale, I knew that I was going to the right place,
but I had this lingering feeling that I'd end up switching into a degree
program once I got a feel for everything after the first semester or so. When I
started registering for courses, I noticed that there weren't a sufficient
number of spiritual formation courses offered within a year for me to complete
the diploma in one year--I would have to stick around for two. Additionally,
the one course I really wanted to take had a prerequisite. I asked my
admissions counselor if it was possible to get special permission to take it
without the prerequisite, and he even spoke with the professor for me to ask
about it, but it ended up not being possible to get special permission, and my
admissions counselor posed the question as to whether I would be opposed to
taking the course in fall 2016. It was becoming clear to me that God was using
tactics he knew I would respond to in order to get me to make a larger commitment,
although in my typical stubbornness I was still not convinced enough to bite
the bullet and commit to a master's degree. Which stream would I commit to?
Wouldn't I have to have more of an idea of where I wanted to go with my life so
that I could commit to a specific stream for 2-3 years? How on earth was I
supposed to finance this? I began having very physical anxiety symptoms, worse
than I had in several months, and became kind of worried about the prospects of
what I was getting myself into. What even was God's deal?
Around this time, I
had lunch with a friend at a Vietnamese restaurant. For some reason (that
reason being that I live in the west, and apparently white people have been
conditioned to expect a fortune cookie at the end of a meal originating from
any Asian country) we had fortune cookies at the end of the meal. When I
cracked mine open, my fortune consisted of only two words: Don't panic.
What? How did they
even know? (At this point I'm reminded of The Simpsons--obviously--when Homer gets that "you will find happiness
with a new love" fortune cookie while out for dinner with Mindy https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DNZmqtzoYaY).
But seriously. That
was too perfect, too timely, too apt. Was God now speaking to me through a
fortune cookie?
A few weeks later
(last week) I traveled to Tyndale for their accepted students open house bbq
thingy. I spoke to one of their financial aid advisors, and he asked me if I
was planning on applying for OSAP, to which my answer was basically "duh,
that's the only way I'm ever going to afford this." but obviously in a
nicer tone, you know, probably more like just a plain, drawn-out
"yeeesssss". And his response was essentially "well, then you
may want to switch into a degree program, at least for now, because OSAP
typically doesn't grant any funding for diploma programs here." If I was
anyone else in any other situation, I'd probably have been pretty ticked off by
that initially, but I really felt like this was another block God was setting
up in the road to get me where he wanted me, in this case, in an M.Div. So
later that afternoon I filled out the paperwork to make the switch, and so far
I have felt really good about the decision--really at peace, and confident that
this is where God wants me. So good!
Around this time I
also decided that I wanted to get baptized. I've had countless conversations
about baptism over the last few years, ranging from "this is a sin if you
don't do it, you need to do it NOW" to "you're obviously not following
Jesus right now, don't do this, you'll know when it's the right time" to
"you were already baptized when you were a baby, you don't need to do it
again". It ended up being kind of a culmination of the three main points
of those conversations that resulted in me being baptized yesterday!
First, I
was baptized as a baby, although I never took a first communion (not as a
formality, anyway), was never confirmed, and never gave a profession of faith.
I felt the need to make a public declaration that I was sold out for Jesus and
following him, and to have the support of my friends and family, and church
family at said declaration. Second, the bible clearly commands adult baptism by
immersion, and doing so would be following in the example of Jesus, who, before
he began his ministry, was baptized by John the Baptist (and all kinds of cool
things happen--read Mark chapter 1). Third, when I was having those
conversations where others were calling me out on not following Jesus, that was
an appropriate response, because I was not following Jesus, just seeking ways
to feel like I belonged to him, and to this group of people that I thought were
pretty cool and about good things. Now, circumstances have changed. I feel like
I can confidently and truthfully say that I am following Jesus (although I can
always do better), that I'm about what he's about, that I'm sold out for him
and the Kingdom of God. By the time I'd decided I was going to seminary, all I
could think about it was "just do it already!". And just like that,
there was an announcement at church on Sunday that in a few weeks they were
going to have a baptism service. Score.
So I did it. Family
and friends traveled from great distances to support me. I gave my testimony,
and it was powerful. People were encouraged. God was glorified. It was just so,
so great! The sermon was about
love and belonging. Perfect. Then I shared this version of my testimony:
***
Whether I've realized it or not, the biggest
questions that I've spent the majority of my life attempting to answer have
been surrounding my own identity: what it means for me to belong, and feel
loved.
I grew up in a small town, where your popularity as a
kid was mostly dictated by how well you could play hockey. Although I was a
decent athlete, I was known more for my book smarts and violin playing, which I
kind of resented. I wanted to be well-liked and feel like I belonged, and I
didn't. I began to feel really depressed quite frequently by the time I was
about 10, but I was shy and confused about what was happening in my brain, so I
kept pretty quiet… What was I supposed to say, anyway? That I was upset and sad
because I felt like nobody loved me even though I had a family and talents and
privilege?
I also grew up in church. My parents had me baptized
as a baby, and I went to Sunday school until I was competent enough on the
violin to play with the worship team, which I did every Sunday from when I was
11 until I went away to university at 18, and quit going to church. Every
Sunday school class hammered home the exact same point every week: Jesus loves
you. I knew those words in my head, but did not believe them in my heart. If
Jesus loves me, why don't I feel loved? If I am made in God's image, why do I
hate what I see when I look in the mirror? If Christians are supposed to love
and support one another and those who are different from them, why do I feel
like I don't matter, and why do I feel like I'll be told to just suck it up and
get over myself, because other people have bigger problems?
In my second year of university, I started having
panic attacks--violent, tantrum-like episodes where I would feel like I was
dying-- I couldn't leave my house to go to school on many days. I became very
dependent on prescription sedatives to have a small, fabricated sense of peace
every day. I ended up hospitalized in the psych ward. Jesus loves me? Why isn't
he stopping this? I belong to him? I'll never belong to anyone. I'm damaged
goods. I can't make anybody love me for reasons other than guilt.
But maybe he did love me. Maybe he wanted to heal me,
and transform my life into something good. I kept hearing this voice inside me
saying "this isn't it, I want something more for you, something
better…" I couldn't sink any lower, and had nothing to lose by giving
Jesus a shot. In September of my 3rd year, I got connected with IVCF. I went to
bible studies and large group events, I went on a global partnership to
Bangladesh that summer, I joined student leadership the following year. I said I
loved Jesus, and I did, but for whatever reason, I still didn't feel like I was
good enough to be loved by him and his people.
Going into my fourth year, I'd had a rough summer
since coming back from Bangladesh. I knew I had to find a church, though, and
get plugged into a community that was about following Jesus and living out the
kingdom of God in a practical way, where I could learn and grow. But the
process of finding a church was absolutely daunting. And then one Sunday I got
invited to Hillside.
This has been a community who has said "we love
you for you, and not for your violin playing", who has said "I
haven't seen you for a few weeks, is everything okay? Want to come over to my
house for lunch and talk?", who has said "we barely know you, and
understand that you're only in this city for a short while, but we want to see
you do well, and help you out however we can because we recognize that even
though you're 22 and past youth group age, Jesus still wants to change and
transform you and we feel like he wants to use us to be a part of that so we
are going to say YES to him!" "We are teaching you to say YES to
Jesus by saying YES to him ourselves by loving you because HE loves you and you
belong to him and he has placed you here with us and that is good!"
And now, I'm saying yes to Jesus. I said yes to him
today by getting baptized. I'm saying yes to his call to start a Master's of
Divinity at Tyndale this fall, and I can't wait to say yes to wherever he calls
me next. Although I'm broken and anxious and imperfect and awkward, he doesn't
care, he loves me, and I belong to him, and he says that I am a new creation in
him and he wants to use me to grow his father's kingdom! No one can ever take
that away.
***
"God works in
mysterious ways"
What ways are those? Who even knows. But he makes this
socially awkward, anxious girl get up and testify in front of a church of 200
that he is Lord and he works and he is good, and then the body is encouraged. He
heals. He brings peace, joy, hope, and love in his own time. He moves the
hearts of individuals to pray for others that they will know him and they hold
that faith and continue for years until the ones they have prayed for cry out
to him in desperation. It is totally crazy and ridiculous. I am sold out for this God right now. I
know I won't always feel this way--that trials are on the horizon, that growth
is hard and painful, that the enemy is active and lurking, that sometimes I'll
wonder where God is or what he's doing… But right now, I'm just going to ride
this high.
