enough

I'm justifying the fact that I'm sitting at Chickfila blogging right now intead of writing my This I Believe paper with the thought that I'm going to use this post as support... I have a long paper to write today about my plans for my life and how I'm going to use my major. Nothing helps writer's block quite like cfa sweet tea. Nothing helps a lot of things quite like cfa sweet tea. Shout out to my mom for raising an addict.

This morning in my research and eval class was what we like to call 'research Thursday' where someone who's working on their dissertation comes in and shares with us. The goal is for us to write written critiques of their research methodology and epistemological perspective and such... but confession, I threw the idea of listening for each of those things completely to the wind when our guest speaker began to pour out her research and findings on a topic I am so passionate about.

The first thing our research presenter asked us to do was write down a time when we felt we weren't enough. A heavy beginning. I'll skip the technical details, but she had spent time working with a group of middle school girls doing research on the feeling that we are not enough and how that relates to the body. We talked a lot about how our culture and our society discipline us to believe certain things about ourselves, to believe certain things about our bodies. The result is the feeling so many people (girls, boys, majorities, minorities, all ages) deal with that I'm not thin enough, I'm not athletic enough, I'm not smart enough, I'm simply not enough. She spent weeks meeting with these girls for writing workshops and just loving on them and getting to know their heartbeat on the issue. We talked about how quick this generation is to jump back for themselves and resist being forced into a mold, but at the same time how we discipline train kids from a young age. You sit in rows of desks. You don't speak when I'm speaking. You believe the things we're telling you. 

She laughed and told us "working with middle school girls requires a lot of humility.". Amen, Hillary. Amen. She talked a lot about how as educators we need to start listening to our adolescents more and differently. We have an awful lot we can learn from them. I know this is true.

I could talk about her research for a long time but it stirred up a passion inside of me. I've been called into ministry. I've been given a passion for girls. I have a heart for middle schoolers. And I don't know what I want to do with my life... no, that's a lie. I know exactly what I want to do, I just don't know yet through what medium. I want to use the passions and talents that the Lord has given me to take His Gospel to the people around me. I've blogged about wanting to spend time living in another country loving on the people. I want to work at camp forever. I want to be in the public school system. I want to spend every day with girls. I want to use my gifts of organizing and coordinating things. I don't know... I just want to serve.

I blogged last night about how crucial the gospel of Christ is. It's everything. Literally, everything. I wanted to jump out of my seat during the presentation today and ask Hillary if she told those girls that they were beautiful because God made them in His image. I wanted to know if she told them how He loves us, the price that He's paid for us that we might be able to be seen as enough. We aren't enough, we never will be. But in Christ we are made whole, full, beautiful. And I'm crying in a Chickfila right now... Can you tell that This I Believe?!

But do I?

Wes told a story yesterday about an agnostic girl he works with whom he had the chance to sit and talk about the Gospel. After knowing him for months and having a five hour conversation about scripture, heaven, hell, life, death, and everything in between, she looked him in the eyes and said "You don't believe in this." Of course he was floored, wouldn't you be? What do you mean I don't believe this? I've been living it and preaching it for months. I'm telling you that this is what I believe. But she looked at him and said "No. If you really believe in this Hell you just told me about, you would've told me a whole lot sooner." Amen. Amen, amen, amen.

What are we doing? What do I want to do with my life? I just want to share the love of Christ. I don't want to wait until next week or until I get my degree, I just want to go. I want to love. Live love. Love on the hurting people around me. Right here in Athens, Georgia. I want to serve. I want to tell the girls that they are beautiful, not because they are fitting or not fitting into the world around them but because we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus (eph. 2:10). The Greek word for workmanship there is poema, like a poem. A beautiful work of art.

But far too often I am quiet. Praying today for the Lord to give me a moment to speak His truth. Maybe right here in my favorite booth at Chickfila.

I'm daily amazed that this is real life. Thank goodness that This I Believe. I'm trading my life for His.

This was supposed to be a short post... oh well. It's too good to keep inside. We aren't supposed to anyway, right?