Fake I.D.

I've noticed something about the way we all talk.

"I'm a journalism major."
"I'm white."
"I'm a vegetarian."

"I am ..."

The list could go on. Millions of quick self-descriptions exist.

We make more every day.
Maybe I'm being ridiculous and these are actually good ways to describe yourself. They get to the point -- I can admit that. Evolutionarily speaking, they also help us make quick judgments and to categorize.

It just gets under my skin and I can't be sorry about it.

Wouldn't it be nice to hear, 'I'd rather not eat meat,' or 'I am studying journalism,' as opposed to labeling myself as a certain student and by what I eat? I wish peoples' language didn't reveal how desperately everyone is seeking an identity.

But if the language reflects truth, maybe there's something else to get at.

this song feels like my love today.

what a time we've had, best friend. and i do hope for so much more.

you cover me.

you surprised me with dinner, a song, and yourself one night this week. you write me love letters and meet me outside my office whenever possible for five minutes of necessary skips and hand-holding when the sun is out.

your quick winks make me weak.

and now we get to escape the city together for nine days. we're going to melt away into the big sky, and knead our bodies into the fields. i would never want to disappear with anyone else in the world.

my blood rushes when you dream out loud. you believe in us.

we can do anything together. i believe in you.

art school

This is what I wrote in my journal shortly after I officially accepted the ministry position with IV. It's a natural thought, especially in our country and culture I think. I've spent three years and an unsavory amount of money on a fancy degree in science journalism with a minor in Latino studies. Do I feel like I am throwing all of that away by pursuing a job in a completely different field? Heck no!

Truthfully, I'd been mulling over this thought for a while, even before I was certain about my call to a year in ministry. Three years is a rather short amount of time to cram in a four-year degree and while I've managed the workload, it's been just that--a load. Working at a newspaper on top of studying journalism has also been amazing, I honestly love my job, but I've just been so entrenched in this world, this industry, that for a long time now I've known that I wanted to take a step back from it all when I graduate. I didn't even know what I wanted to do. Continue as a nanny? Go back to being a barista? Become a professional house wife and get paid to bake and clean and read?

I'm sure I'm not the first person in the world to reminisce about their time in college as they approach graduation. And I am just astounded at what I see when I make this list of all the things God brought to me during my time in school. I had no clue that following my little curiosity about this small school in a big city would produce any of these things!

The other thing I'm (still) learning about in art school is what exactly makes me "artsy." I have not honed any great skill in the fine arts, but I am confident in my creativity. I am enchanted at the thought of making things that didn't exist before. I believe humans were made in the image of a Divine Creator, so the joy of creating is in my genes.

Oh! and how about that sun?

Wednesday was marvelous!
The warmish, humid wind
gave my arms goosebumps
with excitement, chill and
nostalgia. We went to our
bridge. We sat on the edge
and dreamed about the
future. Places, people, what
we saw in five or ten years.

This spring is different
because this summer won't
be a betweener, a bridge
of semesters. It'll be life.
The alleged real world.

The Answer

I have come here today to attempt the impossible; to cover a weeks-worth of prayer and inner dialogue.

A friend on Saturday told me what a wise woman once told her: "Your twenties are all about learning how to hear God's voice."

Oh man, how I couldn't agree more.

While I've definitely had moments of connecting to God and seeing the message He was sending across to me, honestly those moments are few. And I can't experience them on demand. (What, you mean God doesn't work on my time? I can't force answers out of him?)

That said, my experience has been varied in the last half-year pursuit of asking God whether or not He wants me to be in ministry--specifically with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship.

Jake and I started toying with the idea, praying, thinking and asking questions of the people around us.

With God's assured peace, we took small steps.

One tiny step at a time. We asked more questions, looked at the application (15 pages!) and imagined our life in ministry.

While praying with us, a friend of ours offered an image. He said that he imagined us rebuilding a wall, holding our arms together at the elbow, with arms wrapped in a white band.

I had no idea what that meant.

Fast-forward to a few days later. On my way to a casual coffee meeting with the IV Chicago supervisor, I grabbed the day's RedEye newspaper and ran up the stairs to catch my train.

I tried to meditate and think on God during my train ride to the coffee meeting, so I didn't read the paper.

I left the meeting feeling great about just taking that small step of investigation. Maybe that's all God wanted from me, maybe I wasn't being called to actually apply.

I got on the train and opened to the first page in the RedEye.

I gasped at the picture, maybe you'll know what I mean:

Can you see their arms?

Big signs don't really happen for me.

But how else was I supposed to interpret this? I ripped the picture out, showed it to Jake and we took the next small step. We filled out the application.

Interviews, interviews, waiting, praying, updating people.

The next few weeks were rather mundane.

But they were easy because I was just following God in

tiny steps, everything was up to Him. He was doing all the work.

"I just want to be where YOU want me to be," was my daily cry.

I didn't hear any big, booming voices, but God's Peace was loud to me. I prayed that God stop everything if we weren't supposed to work for IV.

Then I got the job.

!

It was my turn to

accept it, I had to

say yes.

Terrifying.

How can I say yes

or no, when I can't

hear God's word?

Hence the week of

prayer.

Now I'll be the first to admit, the biggest (if only) reason I was afraid to accept the job is the fundraising aspect. "We don't know any rich people," I kept thinking.

For this reason, I intentionally committed to not thinking about money during my week of discernment.

It went smoothly until Saturday morning when I began reading the Bible verses dedicated to this week of Lent.

The subject was "Possessed by Posessions."

It shared awesome stories of how God challenged His people to trust his provision and to live humbly, free of material desire. In turn, God provided immensely for them.

Big signs don't really happen for me ... but I do of course believe God is capable of them, and they happen for plenty of other people.

Oh me of little faith.

Eventually I admitted to myself that I wanted the job.

Sometimes I am tricked into thinking that if I like something, it must obviously not be God's will.

Sometimes I assume--because God calls us to a challenging life--that He only wants difficult things for us.

That is a perverse way to think ... our God is a good and awesome parent.

Eventually I realized that things could still stop at any point. All of our lives are at the mercy of His will. If I say yes to this job I will not be forcing my own ways. If I say yes to this job, it's only a one year commitment to further explore. To me, saying yes is stepping it up and showing God that I am willing to try.

"Here am I, Lord. Send me," Isaiah said.

This Tuesday, one week after I was offered the job, an old favorite song came on Pandora.

"And I have found the answer is to love you and be loved by you, YOU ARE."

Maybe there is no clear-cut answer to God's opportunities. Maybe we are simply called to love and be loved. If so, then let the love fall where it may.