We Make Plans and God Laughs
August 13, 2011 I moved to Durham, NC, to start my first year of seminary at Duke Divinity School. This past school year literally pushed and pulled in to the brink of my spiritual, physical, and mental limits. I have never loved and hated something at the same time, but that is how I feel about this first year of school. I love that God blesses me with this opportunity to study God's Word and God's people. I love the people I have grown to know and love as my friends and classmates. I love that God has so far carried me through situations that I could not have handled on my own.
On the other side, I hate that I have struggled this year. Never in my life have I struggled academically. My GPA has seesawed back and forth between abysmal and sucky throughout most of the year. I do believe a mixture of Divine intervention and the outrageous grace and generosity of a couple of my professors allow me to remain a student at Duke Divinity School. I hate that my life plans have been messed up. I came to seminary with a sense that I knew without a doubt what God wanted me to do with my life. This certainty in my calling was affirmed over the years whenever I would tell people about it and they would say, "that's great, Katie, I'm glad to see you will make a difference in the world," or whenever I would receive scholarships or accolades for my plans to enter the ministerial field I was so certain about entering. To best describe my first year of seminary I will borrow a sermon illustration from Rev. Donna Banks - "We come to Divinity School with our faith, live goals, and hopes all organized in tidy little stacks, but when we encounter God, God takes the little pieces of our lives and throws them up into the air. We look on in horror, dismay, and frustration as we see our best laid plan scatter into a jumble mess on the floor. But to God, the pieces of our lives are not a jumbled mess, but they spread out to make a beautiful mosaic that reflects the new creation we are in Christ."
As much as I wish I had control over my life, I am starting to realize that my plans are not God's plans. I have no idea what life after seminary holds for me. I look at the scattered pieces of my calling and life, and I am starting to see patterns and designs that are foreign to me. However, there is a peace that has settled on my heart in recent months. As I relinquish my plans, I see God steps in with opportunities that are edifying and life-giving in ways I never would have experienced. There is a Susan B. Anthony quotation that a friend shared with me that I found very convicting, "I distrust those people who know so well what God wants them to do, because I notice it always coincides with their own desires." In my certainty of my calling I missed God's gentle and persistent beckoning that was leading me another way. I placed my desires before faithfulness to God. I ignored John the Baptist's response to his disciples in John 3 when they pressed him on whether or not he was the Messiah. John responded that his joy is complete when he rejoices in hearing the voice of the one who is to come. His joy is made complete and he says, "He must increase, but I must decrease." This new mosaic of my life is showing me that joy, peace, and grace are found in God and not by my own best efforts. I must decrease.
This weekend I will start a ten week summer internship at a church in rural North Carolina. From what I understand, this church is about as different as it can be from the church, worship style, and socio-economic setting that I call home. I must confess, this placement is not what imagined or even hoped for when I came to Duke; but I feel that my summer is another piece of the new mosaic that God laid out for me. I am anxious about how different this community will be, but I am genuinely excited to see how God is present and working in the people and church I will serve in this summer.
On the other side, I hate that I have struggled this year. Never in my life have I struggled academically. My GPA has seesawed back and forth between abysmal and sucky throughout most of the year. I do believe a mixture of Divine intervention and the outrageous grace and generosity of a couple of my professors allow me to remain a student at Duke Divinity School. I hate that my life plans have been messed up. I came to seminary with a sense that I knew without a doubt what God wanted me to do with my life. This certainty in my calling was affirmed over the years whenever I would tell people about it and they would say, "that's great, Katie, I'm glad to see you will make a difference in the world," or whenever I would receive scholarships or accolades for my plans to enter the ministerial field I was so certain about entering. To best describe my first year of seminary I will borrow a sermon illustration from Rev. Donna Banks - "We come to Divinity School with our faith, live goals, and hopes all organized in tidy little stacks, but when we encounter God, God takes the little pieces of our lives and throws them up into the air. We look on in horror, dismay, and frustration as we see our best laid plan scatter into a jumble mess on the floor. But to God, the pieces of our lives are not a jumbled mess, but they spread out to make a beautiful mosaic that reflects the new creation we are in Christ."
As much as I wish I had control over my life, I am starting to realize that my plans are not God's plans. I have no idea what life after seminary holds for me. I look at the scattered pieces of my calling and life, and I am starting to see patterns and designs that are foreign to me. However, there is a peace that has settled on my heart in recent months. As I relinquish my plans, I see God steps in with opportunities that are edifying and life-giving in ways I never would have experienced. There is a Susan B. Anthony quotation that a friend shared with me that I found very convicting, "I distrust those people who know so well what God wants them to do, because I notice it always coincides with their own desires." In my certainty of my calling I missed God's gentle and persistent beckoning that was leading me another way. I placed my desires before faithfulness to God. I ignored John the Baptist's response to his disciples in John 3 when they pressed him on whether or not he was the Messiah. John responded that his joy is complete when he rejoices in hearing the voice of the one who is to come. His joy is made complete and he says, "He must increase, but I must decrease." This new mosaic of my life is showing me that joy, peace, and grace are found in God and not by my own best efforts. I must decrease.
This weekend I will start a ten week summer internship at a church in rural North Carolina. From what I understand, this church is about as different as it can be from the church, worship style, and socio-economic setting that I call home. I must confess, this placement is not what imagined or even hoped for when I came to Duke; but I feel that my summer is another piece of the new mosaic that God laid out for me. I am anxious about how different this community will be, but I am genuinely excited to see how God is present and working in the people and church I will serve in this summer.
Oh Katie, no one knows more about the grace of God's sense of humor and life jumbling antics than I do. The mosaic that is our lives gives him great joy and when we take the time to see his light shine through that glass our hearts are filled. I know that times can be rough and I'm so pleased you are handling them. Although I know that grades and scholarships are ridiculously important I would ask you to remember that in the school of life there is no permanent record. Picking yourself up after a nasty blow is the noblest of all actions my dear friend! I'm so proud of you. Love, Mel
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