9. paradox

After two and a half years at the college I first committed to, I made a decision to transfer, oddly enough to a Christian college about ten minutes from my families home in Minnesota. I think that was God’s humor at its finest; or maybe just His divine plan. For the next few seasons of my remaining eligibility, I was able to play volleyball free and clear of another major injury.

While my physical body seemed to be running on all four cylinders, internally I was wasting away. The seed of bitterness that was planted in me, grew a few deeper roots, several leaves that shaded truth, and fully formed into a grudge again the people on my new campus who claimed to be Christians. After disappointments, failed expectations, feelings of utter isolation, and striving to be a good enough person for the sake of being accepted at church, the impression grew on me that maybe these “Bible thumpers” were missing out on the world’s easy offer… just do you, whatever works for you.

To be accepted into the new college, a written statement of faith had to be submitted along with previous transcripts. With my years of head knowledge, I knew how to talk the talk. My words granted me access to the school and I thought good enough, let’s get this show on the road. The profession meant I couldn’t completely shed the itchy sweater of my Christian identity, and I hated it more and more, everyday feeling the discomfort of its form around me.

You know when you’re watching a movie, and you can see the character’s lips moving as words come out, but the timing is lagged and the scene doesn’t quite make sense? The moving picture isn’t synched up. Well, that became the sequence of my life for the following years after the transfer.

Shame from my past and a lack of assurances for my future lurked in the shadows, haunting me. The things I had enclosed in the box so many years ago also began to weigh heavier and heavier. I felt like I had a dark secret about to be revealed at any moment. The fear that maybe I can’t handle all of this, became the focus of my attention and the desperation to find a shovel able to bury it into a deeper hole, was all consuming.

Casting a desire for a new beginning onto Jesus, did not seem like the way to unload my burdens. Instead, I just continued to make regrettable choice after regrettable choice, self-fulfilling my prediction of a bleak and pessimistic future. At this point, being in such close proximity to my family, I know they began scratching their heads in confusion at the choices I made.

My life was full of duplicity. And I ran with lawlessness.
Stating with my mouth that I was a Christian yet walking away from anything that would help me become Christ-like.

I could speak about peace, but my actions resembled a frantic woman racing down the street to catch a grey hound out of town.

Rattling off verses in class about contentment was hardly a difficult task, but I could just as easily name ten places I would have rather been.

Monday mornings I sat in an auditorium listening to worship songs and taking notes about the fulfillment of knowing God, but come Friday night I was the last to leave the bar.

Reading bedtime stories to the kids I babysat came just as easy as bellowing the lingo of a drunken sailor with my friends, smoking cheap cigarettes/weed, and taking pills that weren’t mine.

The physical boundaries in my dating relationships were set and broken as I wove into the worldly standards of intimacy, craving to feel close to someone who for once wouldn’t hurt me.

The trajectory of my decisions shot me towards nothing but a broken or empty heart. I had no interest in serving other god’s like Buddha or Baal, as those in the Old Testament did, but little did I know that people, places, and things can become gods too. My own flesh deceived me, and although the tension within, mounted and reared horrendous stampedes, I turned away my vulnerability from the only One who could stand up for me and command the storms to cease.

Musings of my delusions and the accessibility to the jar in which my temptations for release were held, came into the closest contact they’d ever been. The bustle of Minneapolis was practically my backyard and the ability to disappear and escape for awhile was all too alluring.

For some people alcohol is a lifeline. To other’s it is the center of any worthwhile get together or weekend plans. But for me, it was the vehicle transporting me into another world where I could choose who I wanted to be. Finding the bottom of a bottle became an amusing game to play as the tingle of a buzz started in my lips and found its way to my toes. I loved being surrounded in a bar, not knowing what would come from a night out, and pretending like nothing mattered. I loved that the person to your left or right could form into a friend you might as well have known for years as you exchange random shared experiences through slurred words. I thought I was having more fun than anyone back at my stuffy campus, but like a moth to a flame, from every chase I only got burned.

I swayed my body back and forth like a cheap trinket flashing my eyes, dying for someone to reach out, pull me in, and tell me I was safe and could stop the renegade. I was exhausted to the bone from putting up a front and a fight. My reckless running turned into stumbling like a zombie, but nevertheless I held onto my pride and reining motto, I’ve got this.

I wanted a life of meaning, adventure, freedom and love, but I didn’t believe that was possible with God. I was breaking the heart of my Savior who just wanted to embrace me, look me face to face and repeat with never ending grace and kindness, come to me and be loved. I will take care of you. I will provide for you. I will defend and protect you. I will never leave you. I will show you more than you could ever imagine. I have plans to prosper you. I have a place of rest for you.

And If living for Christ meant hanging up thrills and sitting bored in a corner, I don’t think God would have included Ephesians 6: 10-18 into the Bible…

“Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. 11 Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. 12 For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. 13 Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. 14 Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, 15 and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. 16 In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. 17 Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. 18 And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people.”

This life is a war and more than meets the eye, why else would we need a full suit of armor? The enemy prowls around blinding and convincing us, all there is to it is securing comfort, hoarding personal wealth, and dying fat and happy with as little regrets as possible. The enemy says the life you want can be obtained without God. But Christ says apart from Him nothing remains and nothing worth while is possible (John 15:5).

Although the tattoo on my back reads the nations are calling, a nation of one was in need of rescue, and Jesus was coming to reveal Himself and set me free from my misconceptions and brokenness.