Lessons between Friends
I have a close friend here at school – and for the past couple years we have been writing letters to each other. Though we see each other with fair frequency on campus and at various student organization events, and though we live a mere three blocks away from each other and our roommates are engaged to each other, we exchange these thoughtfully handwritten letters via postal mail or campus mailbox… rather than talking through these things in person. It’s just an artifact of how our friendship works. When we’re together in person, we joke around ceaselessly – but in our letters, the true spirits within us rise to speak.
I’ve been going through a lot of introspection and spiritual reflection lately – wrestling through issues with God, laying them at His feet, and begging Him to restore a fuller measure of joy and hope to my life. Events from the recent whiles have stripped away (of varying degrees) everything from confidence to trust to optimism.
In response to one of the letters I wrote to him, my friend wrote back -
Sitting back to think, I cannot help but revisit how fortunate we are. To think, in a few months we’ll be branded with the HLS mark of prestige; starting at the job of our choice in the city we want; never having to worry about finances; surrounded by friends. It’s a fairy tale story of academic adventure.
The challenge we face is what we will do and become with this gift. Not everyone is called to move mountains, but we all ought to be rolling rocks. Do you know what you’ll roll?
I want to challenge you to rethink your work and worth in terms divorced from the immediate evaluative content. [Recall] the dinner discussion we last attended in which we discussed stewardship. We talked about directing ambition, and you seemed to suggest a measure of comfort–or at least resignation–with falling short of parental expectations and the ambitions of this space.
That bothered me. You are too accomplished and strong to be thinking and talking in these terms. This is a stupid place, its students make themselves miserable, and most graduates do no better. Sure, some of its rockstars and golden children perform, but so too do the quiet, self-satisfied sorts.
You are a reluctant rebel; embrace that. Everyone around you will be drawing from your Christian example. You ought to be self-assured; you are God’s child and your decisions, when prayerfully considered, are every bit in line with the strivings of His champion.
I replied to him, in part:
“Accomplished,” “strong,” and “self-assured” …. Sometimes I feel that way, but not that often. I may come across that way to people, but that’s probably just because we’ve all been taught to do that. Inside, I often feel not-accomplished-enough, weaker than the next person, and not sure of myself or my future at all. And that’s good in a way because it brings my poor soul to its knees and asks God to resurrect in me some sort of hope and some amount of ability to do something great for Him.
Because deep down, I do want to move a mountain. I want to be a hero. I don’t have to be a hero to many people, but I do want to be a hero to someone. To a group of downtrodden someones who needed mercy, love, care, a second chance, compassion, a lesson for their own good. To a group of victimized someones who needed a voice, an advocate, love, care, compassion, hope for a safe future and a vindicated past. When I die, I want my life to have meant something – I want the world to be different because I lived in it, and I want people to be changed because I was part of their lives.
And most of all, I want to be a champion for God. I really do. I’ve been saying these days that sometimes I wish I had been born a zebra – because zebras do zebra things, they roam around the earth and get chased down by lions and they eat whatever they eat and they look fashionable in the wilderness and all that brings glory to God because they’re doing what they were made to do.
Or I wish that I were born a mountain – because mountains stand there day in and day out, century in and century out, and they crash with avalanches and they fold into new mountains and they form and evolve with earthquakes and glaciers, and they speak of God’s glory just by being there – and being big and grand and strong and mysterious.
Or I wish that I were born a tree – because they stand proud and tall, they provide shade and a home for birds, then they turn all sorts of glorious colors in autumn and shed their leaves, then they wear snow all winter long, and then they bloom with all sorts of gorgeous fragrances in the spring. And they bring glory to God because they do what they’re supposed to do.
We humans – we’re different. We get things wrong all the time, and we sin and do all sorts of terrible things. Right now, I’m complaining about being made a human and that’s not bringing glory to God at all – I’m sure I will sit down and confess about this whole thing tonight. But I’m just being honest. I want to be a champion for God – I want my life to bring Him glory. I want people to see His love and compassion by acts of mercy and justice that I do through my work in the law and in the community.
I just… don’t know whether I can. In fact, I know I can’t. And perhaps I’ve just been here too long; I feel less and less special and gifted every day. And maybe that’s the problem – maybe I’ve spent too much time here and bought too much into the idea that it’s about me and my ability. Because apart from God, I have none.
See, I know God can make a hero out of me. I just don’t know if He will…
My friend replied -
I wonder if what we each turn to in the quest for humility is a different concept of what we can do in God’s grace. [...] But, don’t you think it’s overstepping to take the incredible gifts that God gave you and then say that perhaps they’re not so great? I don’t know if we have the choice to walk away from them, and I also don’t think that it is the better course to pretend like these gifts are not there. They are. And they’re your talents; the Lord wants a good return.
Humility is a blessing, but so is self-assurance in the Lord. I don’t think you have to abandon one for the other. I need the first. But I want you to rise in the latter. You are great whether or not you want to be, and the fight will soon come, where as a daughter of God you will need to stand up with every tool he’s given you. Zebras may have a wild time, but they’re not in the image and likeness of God. They don’t bear the joys and suffering we do, and Christ never died on the cross for them. Yes, they may be tasty, but you’re God’s child. That’s even better.
I want to see that fist raised high.
I was very grateful for this exchange of letters and sentiments – and for the truth and honesty spoken within. My friend is right – I may be human, and because of that, I have a fallen nature and I am going to do all sorts of things that doesn’t please God. But rather than feel defeated and wish that I had a separate existence – one in which choice and free will play no part – my friend was good to remind me that despite our sins, what makes us special as humans is that God has extended to us a very unique and compassionate love. He loves His human creation more than any of His other ones, if His sending His Son to die on the cross for our sins is any indication.
So… I’ve been pondering these truths for the last couple days since receiving this last note. They are resonating well within my soul, and bringing growing measures of comfort and peace. I’m thankful.
