Okay, friends and family, I’ve had a rough, semi-anxious week. New classes with new professors, and still feeling behind on a few things. I’m on campus every day now, and I’m feeling the energy drain from all this social interaction. By the time my internship class this morning wrapped, I felt fried. Now, I choose this current adventure, so I can’t complain. I’ve just been feeling rather inadequate and not up to the challenge. Mainly, I think I want to have a bit longer to be an ostrich and pretend that I don’t have to keep moving forward and living my life. Maybe I’m not yet as “good” as I want to be. Not thrilled about that acknowledgement.
Currently I’m having to write a paper about my core beliefs, values, mission, and purpose. I’m finding myself frustrated as I write, because I don’t have a specific tunnel vision for where I’m going. I’m pretty simple: love God and love people. I’m not a big type-A person, so this assignment makes my life feel more complicated than it needs to be. I’m trying to take it seriously and put some effort into it instead of making things up. Though the making stuff up is starting to seem more appealing as this process goes on.
In an effort to take a brain break and recharge my mental batteries, I picked up one of my fun reading choices for this month, The Silence of God by Helmut Thielicke, and came across the following statement which is helpful with my current anxiety load.
Everything is now different. We do not know what will come. But we know who will come. And if the last hour belongs to us, we do not need to fear the next minute.
I’ll readily acknowledge that Thielicke is not fun reading for the majority of people I know; this German theologian writes as nerdy a tome as any academic writer could dream of, but it is fun reading in the sense of I choose this stuff rather than being assigned the reading for class. And back to the subject at hand, I’m hoping to hang on to this anti-anxiety reminder for at least a few more days. I needed the reminder that my life and fate are not ultimately in human hands (even my own), but in the One who I follow and who loves me even on the days when I can’t sense it.