you broke your back
kept all the rules
jumped through the hoops
to make God approve of you...
oh, tell me: was it worth it?
the whole time you were spinning plates
did you ever stop to think:
maybe he's ok with just you?
there's no need to join the circus.
welcome to the new//mercyme
Despite being out of university for almost four years now, I can still remember most of the details about the first poor mark I received.
I was in my first year. For some reason, when putting together my schedule in the spring, an 8:30 a.m., sociology classed seemed like a good idea. I've never been a morning person, but I liked sociology in high school. The content was interesting, it was taught by one of my favourite teachers, and - added bonus - I excelled in the class. My final mark in high school sociology was in the high-90s. University sociology seemed like the logical next step.
The professor - a nice man with an unfortunate tendency of slipping into monotone while speaking - lectured every class directly from a PowerPoint slideshow, word for word from the screen. He posted the lectures online afterward for review. The syllabus consisted of two papers (a proposal and a research paper), a mid-term, and a final exam. Awesome, I thought. I'm good at those things. The idea of the class being anything but easy didn't even enter my thoughts.
Until I got my first assignment - the research proposal - back.
The thing I can't recall now is the details of the proposal. I do remember acing the final assignment, the paper written based on the proposal, but I don't remember what that paper was about. I couldn't even tell you what it was I did wrong on the assignment.
What I can tell you is this: the anxiety I felt after seeing that grade on the last page was something I hadn't experienced since Grade 10 math. (where, by what I can only call a miracle, I managed to pass the year with a final mark of 69. I have never struggled with a subject the way I did with math in Grade 10 - it's the reason I tapped out of math as soon as I could. Math still causes me a lot of anxiety...which is unfortunate, because one path I have been praying about lately involves taking a statistics class. That's a story for another time, though).
Looking at the grade on that sociology paper, I worried about what it would mean for my long-term academic career. I worried about keeping my scholarship. I worried about whether university was actually the right place for me, about whether or not it was possible I had actually peaked in high school and was as a result destined to fail in university. I worried about whether I could keep up with the rest of the academic year in the class and then fretted about how I had missed the opportunity to drop the class.
This is the point I should tell you the mark I was so distraught about was a B+.
Don't worry: you don't need to tell me how completely ridiculous that is. Trust me, I know.
I've always been a performer.
The most obvious example can be found in academics, but in truth, it's something that bleeds over into every area of my life, including my faith. If there's a good mark to receive, an accomplishment to be achieved, or a gold star to be earned, I'm your girl. It's strange in a way because I'm not particularly competitive, but I like order. I like having a plan, following it through, and seeing the outcome. I can't remember a time in my life when I wasn't like this.
Sometimes, it's a good thing. One thing I like to think I'm pretty good at is getting things done and doing things well. I work hard to follow through on my commitments and to do so wholeheartedly. If I'm going to do something, I'm going to give it everything I've got. Anything less is, to me, unacceptable.
That's where the problem lies.
Because it's all well and good when things are going well and good. When things fall into place according to plan. When everything works out.
When they don't? Well, it's kind of soul-crushing for me.
And discouraging. And exhausting.
I beat myself up about it. I ruminate and I stew. I don't let things go and I don't let people off the hook easily.
I don't let myself off the hook easily, even when the standard I've set for myself is impossibly high.
And it's only been in recent weeks that I've started to understand how self-destructive that behaviour is...and how it has been standing in the way of experiencing the freedom Christ's grace offers.
bring your doubts, bring your fears
bring you hurt, bring your tears
there'll be no condemnation here.
you are holy, righteous, and redeemed
And if by grace, then is it no more of works: otherwise grace is no more grace. But if it be of works, then it is no more grace: otherwise work is no more work.
Romans 11:6
"Religion told me 'You need to be perfect.' Grace told me 'I'll be there when you can't.'"
Bart Millard, MercyMe (Moncton, April 2015)
"You never move past God's grace. Never."
AJ Plaizier (sermon: here)
Life has been all about change lately with so many things shifting - goals and dreams, desires and passions, attitudes and outlooks. It has been largely a positive process but admittedly, it has also been a bit painful at times. I am telling you this because I think it's important to be honest and because I expect it will have an impact on whatever writing happens here going forward. This season has been one of reflection, one of evaluation, and in some areas, one of conviction. It has been so necessary, but coming out the other side, the question I'm left with is: what now, God? Where do you want me to go from here?
I want to say I'm ready for that answer, but truth is that's only half-true. I'm excited, but I'm a little afraid of giving up that much control over my life.
But I'm also confident the God I serve is bigger than those fears. And His plan for me will always be better than my plan for me.
