This is a mini blog.
Okay, next.
I'm on week four of being a Christian camp
counselor.
Okay, next.
Begin reading.
Walking into Starbucks on my time off, I had this
weird feeling something was missing... If you've ever been a counselor or a
parent, you know what I'm talking about. It's this sensation that there
is LITERALLY nobody behind you, and it's not normal. I catch myself
turning around every minute to make sure there are still twenty-two pairs of
eyes and legs shuffling behind me. When you're leading a flock of
sweating, laughing, and corn-dog-filled-campers around a land where the term
"Oakhaven" means getting food, "Cracker Barrel" means chaos
and milkshakes, and "Fundatory" means exactly what you thinking- fun
AND mandatory, your life gets consumed by childlike joy. I say this is a
"mini" blog, because I don't have much time to spit this out.
But, honestly, the best part of my job (if I can even call it that), is
challenging myself to be more like a child. I want to have that precious
faith Jesus talks about. I want to be careful not to be
"childish" but strive to be "childlike". It's easy
in a world of theology, philosophy, and other studies that try to answer such big
questions, to rely on answers and not faith.
Adults think it's cute when kids believe in
something that doesn't make sense. I think it's brave. I think
knowing answers is important, but I think asking questions is beautiful.
I've recently been asked by many people, "What if at the end, this
whole 'Christianity' thing isn't real?"
I don't know. That's why it's called,
"faith".
Some people would answer, "then I lived with
good morals and had peace." But I think that's a "by
default" reason.
I refuse to have that "by default"
faith.
I'm going to trust He is real, and at the end, I
didn't "happen to live well"... because maybe I didn't.
Maybe, I was uncomfortable.
Maybe, I had a lot of pain.
Maybe, I hurt others.
Instead, "I lived a life where I put faith into
something bigger than myself. Something so mysterious and powerful, I
can't explain it."
And thank goodness, for that. Thank goodness a
mind like mine, very similar to yours, doesn't have all the answers.
Thank goodness, a frizzy, nose-ring-wearing, college student who still
shoots snot rockets and misses her aim, can't look up all the science facts and explain all doubts in the world. Thank goodness truth isn't tangible.
Thank goodness there is a supernatural God that
isn't limited to human minds and abilities. I'm thankful and satisfied
daily with the unexplainable.
I've learned never to trust something you know
everything about, because that in itself is contradicting.
Here's what I do know:
I know we aren't here to die. I know I have a
purpose. And I believe the explanation is a God that loves, cherishes,
protects, and gives me life.
If you say it's ignorant, and I need to spend more
time searching. I have. I've tried to doubt God. It just proved empty and desperately dry. My
stomach ached. I couldn't sleep. I had anxiety. I felt worthless. And it lasted less than month.
It's childish to
tell our Dad, "Nah, I'm good. I can go through this divorce,
alcoholism, finical burden, death, depression... on my own"
It's childlike
to
humble ourselves, and admit, "Dad, I'm broken. I'm so messy. I
hurt people and I'm hurt by people. Forgive me, and give me life, please. I'm desperate."
I don't believe in perfection. I believe in
honesty.
Jesus wasn't crucified on the cross for the pure.
I'm voluneralbe and I'm honest. There are
moments at camp, a kid's chubby stupid cheeks, the way she pushes her stupid
tongue out of her stupid mouth, and squeals/whines/cries with her stupid voice
about how she didn't get another turn on the stupid swing, can annoy me.
But the patience I'm learning with these innocent
children, is minuscule compared to the patience He has with me and my whiney
complaining doubts about His character... for nineteen years.
I'm so unworthy.
He's so perfect.
