Choosing trust, not fear

It is May 26, 2011. Which means that 12 days ago I graduated from Rhodes College and 11 days ago I turned in my fob, my apartment key, my key to my room in Bellingrath sophomore year that I discovered over the summer after having lost and replaced it (whoops!), and my mailroom keys (two because of the aforementioned losing and finding of keys). So, 11 days ago I left living at Rhodes for good, only to visit in the future. It also means that 2 days from now I will load up Ruby (my car) and my Mom's van and my parents and I will start our trip to Memphis. And 5 days from now I will begin to move in to my new apartment, officially becoming a resident of Tennessee. And 7 days from now my life with Memphis Teacher Residency officially begins with a welcome dinner. Mom will leave the next morning (an event that I am pretty sure will be basically drowned in my tears) and I will dive in head first to this new life.

So I'm in this in-between period...this limbo place of having left Rhodes, the life that I have loved and grown through and been incredibly blessed by for 4 years, and trying to prepare for MTR, the life that I know I will love and have to grow through to survive and will be amazingly blessed by for 4 years. And that preparation is looking like a week at Bald Head Island with my whole family and a week in Raleigh catching up with friends and going to doctors appointments and packing packing packing - soaking in a little bit more of this life that I will always love, where they've let me grow and supported me while I did (and continue to), where I'm blessed every day.

Needless to say, I have been rather all over the place. Sometimes I don't get why I'm packing furniture and books and clothing because I feel like I'm just on any other summer vacation. Sometimes I am all too aware of the fact that graduation was real and I will never live in that place with those people again - which either makes me want to cry or frantically contact everyone to make sure they remember that I love them no matter where we each go and how much we actually stay in touch - though it also often just makes me fill with so much gratitude for it all. The rest of the time I have been looking forward to MTR - and that has been an emotional roller coaster in and of itself.

I love this program. I respect this program. I agree with its heart, its goal, its hopes, its faith. I am more sure of the importance of changing children's lives by giving them the opportunity to earn a great education with every moment of my day - watching the news, reading books, listening to conversations around me in the grocery store...I am constantly aware of how much potential for radical wonderful change in this world is possible if everyone has the opportunity to be educated well. I saw the movie "Freedom Writers" a couple months ago and am now reading the book "The Freedom Writers Diary" - the true story of an L.A. teacher and her students that this movie and book share makes the importance of education and the potential for change (on the individual and larger level) that it provides abundantly clear. So as I head into this 4-yr program, I am filled with excitement and purpose.

I have also been filled with fear. What if I'm not a good teacher? What if I fail these students? What if I'm too prideful to take constructive critique well? What if everyone else is better at reaching their students than I am? What if I let the MTR family down (not to mention my own family)? What if my faith isn't strong enough? What if I just...can't do it? What if...?

These questions have been plaguing me, gnawing at me. Not constantly, but they lurk and are ready to move back in as soon as my general insecurities let them. People have spoken words of reassurance to me (some repeatedly - thank you for your patience!) and it might push them back a little, but they've just kept coming...

Yesterday was particularly draining for me. I was just feeling in a state of being generally overwhelmed and I had spent 6hrs with my Mom loading furniture and going through shelves of books at my Nana and Papa's house. As I rushed off to meet a friend for dinner I was on the verge of being on the verge of tears (any criers will know what I mean; if you don't cry a lot, suffice it to say that there were no tears in my eyes, but it wouldn't have taken much to get them there!) - from exhaustion, the emotional moments of clearing out my grandparents house (my Nana passed away in February), the stress of how much I still had to do before leaving for Memphis, and the fear that I wasn't even going to be able to do this! I was driving along with the windows all the way down, the evening still wonderfully warm, and an old mix cd playing. I was singing along without really paying attention as I was so consumed by all of these thoughts. Then I started to register what I was singing as I sang the words, "But the Voice of Truth tells me a different story, the Voice of Truth says 'Do not be afraid', the Voice of Truth says 'This if for My Glory'. Out of all the voices calling out to me, I will choose to listen and believe the Voice of Truth."

And joy filled me. It wasn't a momentary rush. It was a gradual warmth, a slow remembrance of the truth of those words. I started the song over and listened to every word. Then I started the song over and sang every word at the top of my heart (it makes more sense to me than lungs, though the idea is the same). The song is called "Voice of Truth" by Casting Crowns and I've known it for years. And the truth of it has never been clearer in my life than at that moment, than at this time of my life. Here is a link to a video of it and I'll post the lyrics below: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tcuiuIwtpa4&feature=related
____________________

"Voice of Truth" by Casting Crowns

Oh, what I would do to have the kind of faith it takes
To climb out of this boat I'm in onto the crashing waves
To step out of my comfort zone into the realm of the unknown
Where Jesus is, and He's holding out His hand

But the waves are calling out my name and they laugh at me
Reminding me of the all the times I've tried before and failed
The waves they keep on telling me time and time again
"Boy, you'll never win, you'll never win!"

But the Voice of Truth tells me a different story
The Voice of Truth says "Do not be afraid!"
And the Voice of Truth says "This is for My glory"
Out of all the voices calling out to me
I will choose to listen and believe the Voice of Truth

Oh, what I would do to have the kind of strength it takes
To stand before a giant with just a sling and a stone
Surrounded by the sound of a thousand warriors shaking in their armor
Wishing they'd have had the strength to stand

But the giant's calling out my name and he laughs at me
Reminding me of all the times I've tried before and failed
The giant keeps on telling me time and time again
"Boy, you'll never win, you'll never win!"

But the Voice of Truth tells me a different story
The Voice of Truth says "Do not be afraid!"
And the Voice of Truth says "This is for My glory"
Out of all the voices calling out to me
I will choose to listen and believe the Voice of Truth

But the stone was just the right size to put the giant on the ground
And the waves they don't seem so high from on top of them looking down
I will soar with the wings of eagles
When I stop and listen to the sound of Jesus singing over me

The Voice of Truth tells me a different story
The Voice of Truth says "Do not be afraid!"
And the Voice of Truth says "This is for my glory"
Out of all the voices calling out to me
I will choose to listen and believe the Voice of Truth

I will listen and believe
'Cause Jesus You are the Voice of Truth
And I will listen to You...
____________________

I listened to the song a few more times on the way home from my dinner, meditating on the words and the truths they point to. How grateful I am for God, the One who calls the truth to me and encourages me when I am overwhelmed by fear. Because the truth that I was forgetting was that it is God's strength that is at work reforming the education system. The work that I can do on my own or that all of the MTR family can do or that all educators can do is nothing compared to what God can and is doing. And I might think that I can be a positive impact in these kid's lives and that my love can encourage and strengthen them, but that is NOTHING compared to God's love for these children.

I knew all this in December at the selection weekend. I knew that I had never been asked to give what this program would require of me and so I didn't know if I could do it, but God did. And that it wouldn't be my strength that could do it anyways, but that I would only be able to do this if I was completely leaning on God in humility, in the knowledge that I am too small for even a fraction of this situation. I knew all this then and I trusted God completely as I interviewed, was accepted, and made the decision to commit. But I got distracted and I forgot. I forgot that I don't have to do it all myself. I forgot that my strength is not found in myself, but in the fact that I am weak and I do need God and others, that together we are stronger and with God we are complete.

So those questions are there, but they are changed. They are not filling me with anxiety, though I am still nervous because I generally am before life changes. But they are more wonderings now. I wonder what it will look like for me to be a teacher. I wonder what my relationship with my mentor will be like. I wonder who my roommate will be. I wonder what the relationships we build within MTR will look like.

But I am not afraid. Fear paralyzes me, fills me with anxiety, keeps me looking back wishing for the safety of what I know. While I will always treasure the past and will try to honestly watch it to learn from my mistakes, I don't have to hide there. That is not necessary.

Because I choose trust. And with that trust, I choose life. Life that is action and moving forward. With humility, yes! but not trepidation. Trusting that I am not walking blindly because, though I am called to the waves and am called to face the giant, I am called there with the promise that I am not and will never be alone.