Brave Living

As the minute hand crept closer and closer to the twelve, the TV blaring out the countdown to midnight, glasses clinking, and Dad yelling excitedly about "changing the calendars," I raised my glass to 2015. The year I would embrace bravery.

At the start of 2015 I pondered what it meant to be brave, and as I like to choose a single word for the new year, I carefully selected the word brave. And I've been a bit terrified ever since. Terrified of why the word brave would be the word that would define my year. Why the one thing I lacked in perhaps the greatest ways would become my focus for the coming year. But you can read that post here.

The purpose of this post is to take a moment to report back about a year of brave living...

It didn't seem too remarkable at first. But just like with anything, the challenges grew and grew.

2015 was a year...
of multiple trips to the basement, despite all my childhood fears.
of reconnecting with old friends, despite being afraid that too much had changed.
of driving to Indiana on snow-covered roads, cars littering the side of the highway, dented and damaged.
of researching a Masters' program in ESL or Gifted and Talented Education.
of signing up to take my middle school licensure exams in both history and English Language Arts.
of skiing for the first time since the age of twelve, without falling.
of failing my middle school licensure exam in English. The only test I've ever failed. But I picked up the pieces, studied again, and passed.
of loving my students fiercely, even when people told me I had shown too much grace.
of sharing the gospel with someone I never thought I could.
of living on mission more than any other year of my life. 
of embracing the gift of singleness, without panicking about being forever alone.
of roadtripping across the United States with a friend (North to South).
of memorizing more scripture than I thought my brain could ever handle.
of exploring new places, and revisiting old ones as a tour guide.
of being vulnerable when the stakes were high.
of letting go of the need to have a "best" friend, and of embracing better friendships that draw me closer to Jesus. 

of being silent even when all I wanted to do was blast the radio.

of being called somewhere different, somewhere familiar-new

of being obedient

of laying my life, my plans, my all before my Lord, and saying "yes" to Hungary. "yes" to teaching at the International Christian School of Budapest. "yes" to going as a missionary, "yes" to following His call to be a wanderer, claiming citizenship in Heaven, and "yes" to making Him my portion.

When I christened 2015 as the year of Brave, I could sense change. I could sense that God was calling me somewhere new. And that I would have to be Brave.

Yet I didn't see this coming.

But instead of terror, there is quiet hope. Quiet hope in His presence, knowing that  
"The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup; [He] holds my lot. The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance... [He] makes known to me the path of life; in [His] presence there is fullness of joy; at [His] right hand are pleasures forevermore." -Ps 16:5-6, 11.

Trust

Every morning I get to school well before my students arrive. Among other things, I carefully order my laminated schedule cards next to my whiteboard. I change the date. On a large section of the chalkboard I write each subject and what students will be expected to learn. I create a powerpoint that walks them through a morning to-do list when they enter the room so they are ready to start the day.

And every morning, without fail, my students walk in the door, come straight to me, and begin asking me questions about the day. "Do we have a test today?" "Why do we have math instead of library?" "Do we have second recess?"

When this happens, I become annoyed.

Though I go to great lengths to prepare them for the day, they are not content to just know what they need for the moment. They want to know the entire day, and why our day is scheduled the way it is. Sometimes they make suggestions for better ways to order our day, and wait expectantly for me to implement them.

The chaos of a moved table or desk is enough to warrant a whole new battery of questions. As each child walks in the room, a new explanation is required.

This week, I realized I was impatient with them even before the bell rang to start the school day. Shortly after the seventh person walked over to ask me why the table was moved, I had a realization.

I am just like these fourth graders. Don't I feel I need to know every step of the future before I can move forward in the moment? Don't I demand an explanation for a change in plans, and even offer input as to the way I think it should go? I want to be in control. I want input. I want things to go the way I feel comfortable.

But this need for control is really a disguise for distrust. As I think about my relationship with the Lord, I disguise my lack of trust in Him as a "need to know the future." I don't tell Him I don't trust Him. I just do things in my own timing, because according to me, His is too slow.

If I am truly to follow Christ, to do as He asks, and to be obedient, I have to trust Him. I have to trust the Good Shepherd to lead me to quiet pastures and away from danger, even if I cannot see it yet. Just like I have the big picture for what my students need for the day, the Lord knows what I need and when I need it.

I can trust Him. He is the best Shepherd because He knows what it's like to be a Lamb.