go through the open door

If I have learned only one lesson today, it is that we are never in a certain place and a specific chance purely by chance. Call it fate or whatever. The name isn't so important as the fact that we find ourselves in the right places at the right times for a reason.

When I woke up this morning, I just didn't want to go to church. I didn't want to sing praises to a God that felt far away. I didn't want to talk to a heavenly Father, when I don't know the first thing about being close to a paternal figure. I didn't want to listen to another sermon. And I didn't want to see people that would remind me of my sin.

Despite all these feelings, I forced myself to get out of the car and go inside. Worship felt empty and the sermon started off like a trip to the dentist. I knew it'd be good for me, but I just wanted to get it over with. As I sat there and allowed the words to sink in though, I couldn't help but feel like God was speaking directly to me. Like He was finally giving me all the answers to the most important questions that started off my stagnant summer.

I'd been doubting whether or not I was really meant to be at Rutgers. Practically speaking, it was the right choice. My dad isn't winning any bread, and he probably won't for quite some time. But what at one point felt right in my heart suddenly gave me pains that I didn't want to admit or deal with. My one attempt at getting involved in "Christian life" on campus had been a miserable failure. It left me full of frustration, disappointment, and --worst of all-- pride.

I let it go, thinking there'd be more and more suitable opportunities to serve come sophomore year. But as my second year approached, all these doubts about becoming a small group leader started springing up. What if I can't stay right with God all semester? What if no one in my sg talks? What if no one even comes to small group? Let's face it. I'm not small group leader material.

Those feelings of wanting to pack my bags and go on a missions to Asia started resurfacing, like all those times during the school year when I became so aware of my uselessness. But the door was never open.

Today's message spoke to my heart in so many ways, I'm not even really sure where to start. For one, I learned that a calling isn't always immediate. The pastor spoke about knowing what kind of ministry he wanted to serve in. And yet, the doors didn't open for years. I think somewhere inside I always knew that I'd have to wait. But a caring reminder never hurt. More importantly though, it was encouraging to be reminded that waiting doesn't only entail sitting around and waiting for the door to open. It involves getting prepared. It involves going through the doors that are already open.

Yet here instead of running through the open door, I had been getting ready to turn and run away from it. But this could turn out to be one of the most important opportunities, simply because I am not naturally a small group leader. That's out of my comfort zone. I can't rely on my own ability because I know I'll fail miserably if I even try. Instead, this is my chance to trust in God's grace and mercy. Because that is all that really mattered in the first place. Not because of who I am, but because of what He's done. Not because of what I can do, but because of who He is. (To borrow loosely from Casting Crowns.)

There is a time for everything. and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to retrain,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

-Ecclesiates3.1-8