well, goodbye senior year

I couldn't see him very well from where I sat in the audience, but I could make out that he was somewhat of a sculpted, built guy judging by the animated blur on the screen. He wore these clear round-framed glasses with a tight black t-shirt and skinny jeans. His arms were tatted up with indistinguishable markings. My heart was skeptical about the message he was about to deliver.

Then he spoke. And spoke some more. And the lump in my throat began to grow.

This past year has been one of the most beautiful times of my life. Senior year flew by exactly as predicted. There was no ounce of pretense to it. Everything I thought would happen happened. There were many beautiful memories made with old and new faces alike. New experiences that left me wanting more. Senior year was in many ways what I had expected and wanted.

And yet, there was something I couldn't place about senior year because in the middle of what seemed perfect, I was so empty. The hard truth I had been avoiding was that I wasn't growing in my walk with Jesus and I knew it.

This little fact ate at me consistently throughout the year. I was so stagnant in my faith, because my life was too good. I didn't have any problems that needed to be handled by the big boss upstairs (or so I thought). I found solace in a good group of friends, I could practice my skill and passions in graphic design and I started dating this handsome Jesus-loving man. School work (aside from my terrible thesis which still triggers me to this day) was a joke.

While my life was "too good", everything on the inside began peeling off little by little. It all felt like a facade and that I was a shell parading myself around to conceal my heart condition. My appetite for anything spiritual had become so dulled. Listening to messages never left me feeling challenged or convicted. Worship was dry and forced. My temper and love ran so short. I couldn't be bothered to love on people who weren't convenient and whenever I tried, it felt so heavy and out of obligation. It grew to a point where I began avoiding people. Hypocrisy accused me as I attempted to serve in my community and fellowship. Pride ruined so much of my interactions and yet, ironically, I could barely shoulder and face my shortcomings and failures as a leader and it hindered my ability to give myself freely. My prayers were often scripted at the wall. My need for Jesus was practically nonexistent and whatever was there was constantly being stomped out by my own desires and ability to "get on by" without intervention. My relationships with people became strained and suffered because I didn't understand how to love and yet I just so desperately wanted to be loved. I had more emotional breakdowns from petty reasons than I could count. By the end of it, I started to hate this version of self.

I began to make up excuses of my lack of growth. If maybe my community would care more, than I could just grow. If maybe this specific group of people would notice and seek me out, then I could just grow. If maybe people took time to ask me how I was really doing, then I could just grow. If maybe I didn't have so many burdens, then I could just grow. If maybe so-and-so would just take me under their wing and guidance, then I could just grow. If maybe my family wouldn't be so financially strapped or burdened, then I could just grow. If maybe I wasn't serving in so many areas, I could just grow.

Finally, I pinned the blame on Abba. Nothing is happening in my life, God. That's why I'm not growing. YOU make something happen.

Junior year was the year EVERYTHING had happened. I just wanted radical growth. Anything. I wanted something crazy to happen so that I would run and cling to God. But nothing happened. And so I just sat there and twiddled my thumbs.

Then that night. I'm sitting in the crowd of three hundred something people and that pastor's message cut straight to my heart.

TURN. THE. PAGE. He says, the sweat beading on his brow. No matter where you are and where you find yourself, you need to keep turning the page. You need to keep growing. See Christians love to just tell God that if maybe they could just be in this certain situation, have a certain job, be in a certain relationship, then they would grow. But sometimes, we don't get what we want but we need to grow anyway. We need to ask God to help us to grow despite whatever situation we found ourselves in. We need to stop lingering on the same old page because there's still more to come.

All throughout this message, this pastor with the round-framed glasses is throwing his arms in a wide arc above his head to turn the page of some imaginary book. His motions become bigger and bigger. At one point, I start to think he's going to pull some ligament in his arm, but it starts to make more sense in my head, this whole turn the page thing.

Afterwards, I stumble out of that service and it all clicks for me and I tell Abba, "Help me grow. Forget the excuses. Forget what I have and what I don't. I want to grow. I am so tired of staring at the same page. I want to see what's next in my story."

In the blink of an eye, college suddenly became a closed chapter. My fingers hover between the pages of something familiar and something new. Lately, I've found myself crying for no reason at all. Some kind of sadness and longing sits between my shoulders and it aches. I've found, with time, that when something as extraordinary and life-changing as such a season in your life is over, there's nothing on earth that can bring justice to the closure you seek. But strangely enough, I'm okay with this, because the Author that is still at work spells out the best is yet to come.

So, I turn the page.