Cast All Your Cares Upon Him

Isaiah chapters 36-37 record the threat that King Sennacherib of the Assyrians made to Judah. Sennacherib fully intended to conquer the world, and he was doing a pretty good job of it! Next on his checklist was the kingdom of Judah, complete with all the gold and precious stones in the Temple. So he sent a message, letting Hezekiah know that he was coming, and he was going to win.

Hezekiah was facing a problem that was bigger than him. He didn't have a large enough army. The Assyrians were powerful, brutal, godless, and undefeated. Sennacherib had made sure that his letter was read in Hebrew, within the hearing of the entire city. Morale in the city had plummeted.

But check out 37:14: "Hezekiah received the letter from the messengers and read it. Then he went up to the Temple of the LORD, and spread it out before the LORD."

Hezekiah literally laid his problems before the Lord. And then he prayed. He prayed that God would defend His name, and show that the gods of the nations are idols, but Yahweh created the heavens.

Not for the glory of Israel, not for the glory of Hezekiah, but for the glory of God.

This semester I learned that I am far too easily distracted to take all independent-studies classes. It seemed like a good idea, but with two weeks left to the semester, I'm realizing that it wasn't really.

As I sat there yesterday morning, "reading my Bible" but really, planning out in detail how much work I need to get done for each class before the end of the day if I want to make the end of the semester deadline and get ready for a practice tournament, I realized that I wasn't laying my problems before God, even in a figurative sense. Somehow, I had it all worked out in my head in some way that even sounded more or less logical, that I could focus on my faith when I was done with the semester. I organize based on deadlines, and I have a whole half a week between the end of the semester and Christmas!

I looked at my to-do list for the day and realized that I had a lot to learn from Hezekiah.

Where Did the Time Go?

"I just don't have time for it all."

Sound familiar? Yeah, that's me, all the time. Trying to balance school, work, family, speech and debate, and my other extracurriculars has me just about losing my mind most weeks. Why can't I fit it all in? This is something that I have asked myself over and over this school year.

Last week, I made a pointed effort to keep track of where my time was going. I would jot down everything I did, and for how long. Yes, it might seem obsessive, but it was worth it. Because I realized that I waste time. A lot of time. But I never waste it in large chunks, instead, I waste it in small amounts all day. 

It's like a dripping faucet. Did you know that you can fill a gallon milk jug three times in one day, just by putting it under a dripping faucet? I tried it to see if you really can. You can also spend about three hours a day getting pretty much nothing done. I've tried that one, too. I finish something, and before I move on to the next, I check my email. Drip, drip. I'm doing homework, but someone just called or emailed me with a question, so I drop what I'm doing to get back to them immediately. Drip, drip, drip. Then I waste fifteen minutes figuring out what I was in the middle of. Drip. Supper isn't for half an hour yet, so I check facebook for the third time today. Drip, drip, drip.

And drip by drip, I lose hours of my day. 

Wake-Up Call

I'm not crazy about my alarm clock, because it does it's job. I love mornings, but I hate being woken up. I don't like wake up calls.

I got a wake-up call to see the hurting world around me at a student government camp this summer. It was going to be a great week! I was going to spend a week with people who were, as my friend and roommate put it, "a bunch of nerds who are more nerdy than we are!" The camp was everything I'd hoped it would be. The speakers were great, it was an awesome hands-on experience, I got to argue three different bills on the House Floor! So why, when my Mom saw me on friday, did I say, "I just want to go home!" Why could I not wait to get out of there? Because I'd seen something I hadn't wanted to see. It's funny, I had been praying for over a year, "God, please show me the hurting world around me! Please, let me be your hands and feet!" I finally got it, and I just wanted to get away from it. Because the broken world was right in front of me, right next to me. It had grown up with me, and now it was bleeding and my old tendency to run away at the sight of blood was coming out. The hurting world had been right in front of me for so long, but this time, I actually saw it!
It was right there, in the life of someone close to me. It had been awhile since we'd seen each other, and she told me she really wanted to talk to me. She had been going from one bad relationship to the next looking for someone who could fill the void in her life. She questioned whether her existence had any real meaning, had turned away from what she had grown up believing, and now turned to pain as a means of escaping all the stress and frustration she carried. She had promised herself she wouldn't cut while she was at camp, so all week, she would sit there digging her fingernail into her arm as hard as she could. The bleeding world was right next to me in the friend who always knew some funny quote she could email or text me.
It was right there, in the guy I met when he sat down next to me at the piano and added an impromptu duet to the Beethoven piece I was playing. The duet came to an end when we laughingly decided that neither of us knew how to share the keyboard. We each went our separate ways, and that was about the full extent of our interaction that week. I found out later that at sixteen he was an alcoholic.

Why am I posting about this a month after the fact? Last night at my little brother's birthday party, my Grandpa mentioned that government camp. He'd heard about it at his church and knew it was something I'd be interested in, so he wanted to know if I had gone to it. "It takes a certain type of kid to want to go to that sort of thing, but we need people like that!"

Yes, it does take a certain type of kid to want to spend a week of their summer researching and debating bills that are about to be, or recently have been, before their state legislature. And we do need people like that! But as I've found myself in that kind of group on a fairly regular basis, I've noticed something. There is an assumption that the kids who do speech or debate, or who go to government camps, or who help out with children's ministries, or any number of things that takes a certain amount of drive and a willingness to not be considered "cool" by everyone, are just fine and above the struggles that other people their age deal with.

Because, after all, the "good kids" don't struggle with self-destructive tendencies. They don't leave their faith, or question if their lives have any value or meaning. That's what the ones outside the safe bubble that we've grown up in deal with. Right?

Tell that to the two people at camp I mentioned above. Tell that to my friend who was hospitalized after a suicide attempt. Tell that to the young man who recently informed his parents that he doesn't know if he believes in God anymore.

I'm not writing this to make you depressed. I'm asking you to do something. For years I grew up being told to let God use you right where you are. I'd like to introduce you to a mission field that sometimes gets forgotten. The people around you. Just because someone has grown up in the Christian community, doesn't make them safe from Satan's attacks. We are targets. And we are just as much in need of God's mercy, grace, forgiveness, and truth as anyone else. Reach out to the people around you. They might not be as ok as they seem.

My King of Old

Legends have always fascinated me. From Pied Piper conspiracy theories, to Robin Hood, to King Arthur, I've always had an interest in stories that started with just enough of a grain of truth that they leave you wondering where truth ends and legend begins.

For years, the people of England searched for the return of their "King of Old." Another King Arthur. A King who would return England to the beautiful Camelot that it once was. A King who would deliver them from oppressive rulers, poverty, class warfare.

Perhaps the next King would be the next King Arthur. Perhaps the next President will be the next Reagan. Wait, where did that come from? We're not looking for another Arthur, but what are we looking for? Another visionary, legendary leader of times past? Someone who will deliver our nation from the brink of destruction? Are we maybe looking for Another King of Old?

Food for thought: Psalm 74:12 says, "Yet God is my King from of old, who works deliverance in the midst of the earth." Who are we looking for to deliver us?

Broken Pieces

I'll probably never forget the day last October when I found myself curled up on the floor in my room, broken, and in tears. On that day I surrendered the broken pieces of my life back into God's hands.

I struggled with an eating disorder for about a year. In September, I started eating again, but I hated every minute of it. I hated the fact that I was forcing myself to eat, rather than eating willingly. And I hated the fact that I had to eat when I had no desire to. I was ashamed, afraid, and dealing with self-hate. I had struggled for control, only to realize that I had none. That I was completely out of control. I realized that I was broken, but I was still unwilling to surrender to God. I had compartmentalized my life. God could have everything but that. I tried to piece myself back together and it didn't work. It was like trying to tape together broken china.

I was reminded today of the fact that we serve a God who makes broken things beautiful by the healing power of His grace. I also found a Japanese art form that I have thoroughly fallen in love with. It’s called kintsugi. 

Veins of gold lacquer delicately hold together a once broken piece of china. 

On that day in October, I surrendered to God. I realized that I couldn't fix myself, so I asked Him to do it for me. I'm not saying that everything has been perfect since then. It hasn't. There are days when I still have to make a conscious effort to eat enough. Perhaps the biggest struggle for me was to choose joy, instead of being weighed down by the guilt, shame, and regret that I felt. 

For a long time, all I saw were the cracks - the marks of my failure. When I finally saw beyond that, and in those cracks saw God's golden grace, I was able to rejoice. I'm not happy with my choices and the consequences they had, but I am joyful that God's grace is enough to heal and hold together a life that was once broken.

For a long time I struggled to be honest about the fact that I had been anorexic. I still don't talk about it a lot, but I've gotten to the point that I'm not unwilling to talk about it. I realized that I needed to be willing to acknowledge my struggles to others, in order to share with people the incredible work of God's grace in my life. It's like a kintsugi plate: if you pretend that it was never cracked, then you can't enjoy the beauty of how it is now held together. It's like Paul, choosing to boast in his weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ could be seen in him.

Most people throw away their broken china. A lot of people are willing to throw away their broken lives. But that isn’t how God works. God’s grace is beautiful. More and more I see the incredible grace of God running in golden veins through my life, holding me together. Like kintsugi, where the lines where the piece of china was once broken add beauty as they are filled with gold, our lives become beautiful as they are put back together by God.

God's Cow Died

There is a story of a man surprised with the anonymous gift of two cows. He and his young wife, who were newly married and starting up a farm considered this such an incredible blessing, that they decided to give one of the cows back to God. They decided that they would sell one of the cows and give the money to the church. Before they had decided which of the cows they would be selling, both of the cows got sick. That night, the man came in from the barn looking worn out and exhausted. "What's wrong?" his wife asked.
"Well, honey," he replied, "God's cow died."

Psalm 50:10 says, "For every beast of the forest is mine, and the cattle on a thousand hills." About a month ago, my Pastor pointed out in his sermon that cows are, and historically have been domestic animals. Now please don't say No, duh! Think about it, in this verse God is saying that the animals of the forest, the wild animals that no one claims as their own, are His. And He is also saying that the cattle, the domestic animals that we consider to be ours, and say belong to us, are His. Having driven across Oklahoma, Wyoming, and western Kansas on road trips, I've gained a greater appreciation for the idea of the cattle on a thousand hills. Driving across vast nothingness and seeing all those cows, I acknowledged that these animals were God's. It's pretty easy to acknowledge that the hundreds of cattle that "belong" to a rancher in Wyoming, whom I never have and probably never will meet, belong to God. I have friends who are dairy farmers, and it's easy enough to say that their cows belong to God. It's very easy to say that all the wild animals belong to God. It's pretty easy to say that my family's two dogs belong to God, most days I would even go so far as to say, He can keep them! But I don't have cows. I'll acknowledge that something that is someone else's belongs to God, and that wild animals belong to God, and that something I could easily do without (so sorry, puppies) belong to God, but do I freely acknowledge that everything I have belongs to God?

. . . My time . . . . my things. . . . my accomplishments . . . . my goals . . . . my friends . . . .

I cry out "Mine! Mine! Mine!" When I should be crying out to God, "Yours, Yours, Yours!"

Remember how Jesus talks about taxes and He says, "Render unto Caesar what is Caesar's, and to God what is God's?" Why does the coin belong to Caesar? Because Caesar made it (indirectly) and it is stamped with his image. So. . . . What belongs to God, then? What He has made and what is stamped with His image.

That would be us. That would be me.

We are called to give to God what is God's. That means that we are called to give ourselves and everything that we claim as our own to God. We are called to total surrender.

Total surrender, not holding anything back. My heart, my mind, my belongings, my time, my relationships. Everything to which I would be inclined to attach the word "mine,"is really God's. That means I cannot claim for myself any of my achievements, even the "good, Christian" ones. Matthew 5:16 tells us to let our light shine before men that they may see our good works and praise our Father in heaven. In Philippians 1:11, Paul's prayer for the church is that they will be filled with the fruit of righteousness to the glory and praise of God. We are never told to let our light shine and be filled with the fruit of righteousness so that others can see that we are good people.

The young farmer never acknowledged that both the cows that he had been given were already God's. Yes, God's cow died, but the cow that lived was God's, too.

So often I don't acknowledge that all I have and all I am are already God's, My time, my things, my friendships, my victories, and my defeats. The things over which I have no control, and the things that I call my own. They are already God's. I simply choose whether or not I surrender to Him.

National Day of Prayer

"If my people, who are called by My name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven and forgive their sins and heal their land." 

2 Chronicles 7:14

I'm a patriot. I love my nation and I weep at what it is becoming. For years I have clung to the promise in this verse, and for years I have asked, "God, what am I doing wrong? Why haven't you healed my nation?" I looked at America and saw the sins we have committed, the lies that we have believed, the children we have murdered, and the evil we have glorified, and saw that the people committing these sins were reveling in them, not turning from them. And then I saw myself. I was so good! I saw that these things were evil and I prayed to intercede for my nation. I prayed for revival and a new spiritual awakening, and I wanted these things with all my heart. And I wondered why God wasn't making good on His promises. Was it that not enough people were praying? Did God not listen to the prayers of one of His children? Didn't He hear my plea? He promised that if we pray, He will heal our land, right?

Right?

Wrong. I was leaving off part of that verse. The whole repent and turn thing, I was skipping that part. No, I wasn't the one aborting babies or glorifying immorality. I couldn't very well turn from the sins I wasn't committing. But I wasn't turning from the sins I was committing. I wasn't turning from the idols I had built in my own heart. I certainly wasn't turning from the pride and arrogance I had so carefully built up. I wanted God to heal America, but I didn't want to humble myself and turn from my wicked ways. I was disgusted at everyone else's sin, but was willing to tolerate my own.

James 5:17 says that the prayers of the righteous are powerful and effective. Because I agree with this verse wholeheartedly, on this National Day of Prayer, my prayers start with me. I pray for my nation, my leaders, my family, my church, but first I pray that God will have His way in my heart. In prayer, I turn from my sin and beg God to be at work in America.

No One Can Argue: Apologetics Part 2

I was sorting through my Apologetics cards before I wrote this, and I was looking over my card about the evidence for the resurrection. One of my points is "The Testimony of the Apostles,"specifically focusing on Peter, James, and Paul. Under that point I talk about how the incredible change in these three men after Jesus rose again makes the message they preached impossible to ignore.

Peter adamently denied even knowing Jesus, much less being a follower of Him, when Jesus was on trial. After Jesus rose from the dead, Peter boldly preached that Jesus was the Messiah. Prison, angry mobs, threats from the authorities, and crucifixion would not keep Peter from declaring Christ. Why this change? Because Peter knew Jesus and put his hope in Him.
James, Jesus' half-brother, was not a follower of Jesus during His earthly ministry, and even tried to persuade Jesus to stop preaching. Fast forward about fifty years and James is leading the Church and was thrown off the pinnacle of the temple and beaten by a crowd of angry jews demanding that he deny Jesus. Why? Because he believed that Jesus was God, and seated at the right hand of the Father.
Then there's Paul. This man had everything going for him. He could trace his heritage to the line of Benjamin, he was raised in (probably a well-to-do) family of Pharisees, he had trained under one of the most respected teachers of his day, the High Priest trusted him with the task of breaking up the Church in Damascus. And then his life completely changed. He went from persecuting the followers of Jesus, to bringing the gospel to as much of the known world as he could. Why? Because he had a personal encounter with Christ and God gave him a new heart.

Apologetics has to be more than a box full of answers, it has to be more than a head full of answers, it has to be more than refutation to the arguments the world presents to us. Apologetics has to be a lifestyle. Apologetics has to be centered around the fact that in our hearts we have sanctified Christ as Lord. The apologist, in order to be effective, must live in such a way that there is an obvious hope within them that permeates every part of them. No matter how solid your answers are, your most convincing testimony will be your life. I was listening to a podcast of one of my favorite speakers about applying apologtics, and in closing he said something that really stuck with me. He pointed out that no matter how many answers you know, "No one can argue with a life well lived."

Ultimately, the most persuasive argument we can give isn't one that we can keep in our apologetics boxes. You can have answers supporting the deity of Christ, you can explain why that's significant, you can give the historic evidence for His death and resurrection, but if you can't show how Christ has changed you, if you don't live like He is Lord of your life, you cannot persuade people. Because you can't persuade someone else to live for something you aren't willing to totally live for.

1 Peter 3:15 is sort of the battle cry of apologetics, "always being ready to make a defense to anyone who asks you to give an answer for the hope that is within you, yet with gentleness and reverence." There's another part of that verse that all too often gets left out. 1 Peter 3:15a says, "But sanctify Christ as Lord in your hearts" and then continues with the part we all know so well, "always being ready to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is within you, yet with gentleness and reverence." I know that verse, I learned it many years ago. I have many answers for why I believe what I believe. But sometimes I'm missing the most important part. "Sanctify Christ as Lord."

Sometimes I feel like I'm making no progress in my spiritual life and I just keep ending up in the same pitfalls, making the same mistakes and learning (or almost learning) the same lessons. And as I thought about it, I realized that every time I had turned from a sin, or decided to change myself, I had had a "for now" mentality. I knew I was going to fail at some point, so I only partially committed. But to sanctify Christ as Lord in my heart means that I'm not giving Him partial control over my life, until I get busy and distracted and make mistakes. No, sanctifying Christ as Lord in my heart means that I am giving Him priority and honor. It means I won't settle with failure and accept sin in my life. It means surrendering every part of my life completely to His control. It means that even when I do sin - because I do, and I know I will - I will turn from it and continue to pursue Christ. That's the kind of life that the hope of Christ shines through. That's the kind of life that is better than any Apologetics speech I could ever give. That's the kind of life that is a testimony. And it's the kind of life that I want to live.

While Angels Weep: Apologetics Part 1

1 Peter 3:15 says, "Sanctify Christ as Lord in your hearts, always being ready to make a defense to everyone who asks you to give a reason for the hope that is in you, yet with gentleness and reverence." This verse is more or less the battle cry of Apologetics. I've heard it from sunday school teachers, youth pastors, parents, speech coaches, and speech competitors.

I have said, more than once, that of all the speech events I've competed in, Apologetics is the one I have spent the most time on, and the one I value the most. Why? Because the hundreds of hours I've spent on apologetics carry over into the rest of my life. I'm learning to make a defense for what I believe.

So why is this post called, "While Angels Weep"? Well, the answer is in the poem, by one of the greatest apologists of his time.

The Apologist's Evening Prayer

by C.S. Lewis

From all my lame defeats and oh! much more

From all the victories that I seemed to score;

From cleverness shot forth on Thy behalf

At which, while angels weep, the audience laugh;

From all my proofs of Thy divinity,

Thou, who wouldst give no sign, deliver me.

Thoughts are but coins. Let me not trust, instead

Of Thee, their thin-worn image of Thy head.

From all my thoughts, even from my thoughts of Thee,

O thou fair Silence, fall, and set me free.

Lord of the narrow gate and the needle's eye,

Take from me my trumpery lest I die.

I love C.S. Lewis. I love his writing style, his poetry, his fiction, his life story, the wonderful answers he offered for his faith. And this poem, I really love this poem, because, though I am not the great apologist of the century, I can relate. I've had days when I fall on my knees because I should have given an answer, and I didn't. Days when thoughts seem to get stuck somewhere between my brain and my tongue, and my words are as stale and flat as the rootbeer that was opened eight hours ago. When I've been challenged by someone who tells me "The Bible doesn't really say...." and I have no answer until after I get home and search it out. I fail, and I come crawling back to my Savior, because they are His words and His answers that I have failed to present clearly. I turn to Him, because I failed to give an answer to those who asked me.

It's easy to understand the need for God's grace in our failure to give an answer, but I've learned that we need His grace even more in the excellent answers we give. I think my biggest problem is the days when I don't fail verbally. When I know that I need God's grace and call out to Him to make up for my failings, I remember that it is "Not by might, nor by power, but by [His] Spirit" (Zechariah 4:6) that I act. But when I win, I pat myself on the back. Suddenly my mindset shifts, and I'm doing it through my my might, my power, and my spirit. No matter how solid the answers I give are, I fail as an apologist when I've put my confidence in myself. Thoughts are but coins, but it is so easy to trust them instead of the God who gave us the ability to have thoughts. We put our trust in ourselves, in the shiny coins of our thoughts, rather than the God whose image we bear.

I've never been one to give up an argument, I've had arguments (silly arguments) that lasted for months because I refused to back down. Never backing down is a good thing when it comes to truth. Unfortunately, I let my argument tendency sneak into my apologetics. I get so focused on winning arguments, that I forget why I'm arguing. I get a triumphant feeling when I out-talk someone and give answers that everyone listening is impressed with, or when I give an excellent apologetics speech. Then I realize that those answers were for my glory, not the furthering of God's kingdom. And while audiences laughed, (or sat back impressed, or commented on the quality of my speech, or how well I know my Bible), angels wept at my arrogance. God didn't call us to win arguments, He called us to win souls. And when winning souls, there are times when silence is the best answer. Not long ago I had a conversation with a friend of mine whom I disagree with, and at one point I found myself literally placing my hand over my mouth, because I knew that the words that really wanted to come out of my mouth were not God's words, but mine. To my shame, I've had many other conversations when I chose not to place my hand over my mouth, but instead, to give the reasons that I considered the other person to be wrong, and I built a wall instead of a bridge. I didn't follow the calling in 1 Peter to make a defense with gentleness and reverence.

I'm an "Apol-Girl." I have a neatly organized box, full of neatly made cards, which have neatly organized answers, that I take with me to tournaments. Why? Because I'm training myself, I'm teaching myself the answers to what I believe. I'm learning why I believe what I believe. I have a safe environment where I can go into a room and after four minutes, give an answer for what I believe to a panel of three judges. I've had some real life experiences to defend what I believe to the people who disagree with me and give them an answer as well. Someday, I'm going to give an answer to God for my words and the motives behind them. I've had apologetics rounds where I went into that room aiming for a high ranking, and that was all. I gave an excellent speech in those rounds, but as I gave that speech all I was thinking was, "I have to do better than at least four of the people in this room to make it to finals." I've done that more than once. I've gotten knocked out in semis, and I've made it past semis. I'm not going to say that my mindset determines whether or not I break. Sure, there have been times when it's been a factor, but whether or not I do well isn't the point. The point is, I decided to pursue those shiny coins, rather than the One whose image they bear. And one day, I will be called to answer for that. For now, I can simply ask for grace to try again.

And Then What?

I don’t often get to the end of a tournament and think, I am so glad that it’s over now. But this time I did. Oh, yes, I enjoyed myself. It was a good tournament. I got to hang out with some wonderful people, I broke in three of my four events, I got to see friends I had not seen in nine months, and I had a great time. But it was also a really hard tournament for me. I was sick, I was tired, and I was having asthma trouble all day, all three days. And on the way home after octas, I kept asking myself, Why do I care? We lost. We knew we lost. But hey, we made it to octas at a National Open. It doesn’t matter that we lost, right? But it sure did. And if it doesn’t really matter, the question still stands, why do I care?

So why do I do this? Why do I bother? 

This is a question that’s been nagging at me for the past nine months. I don’t know exactly what triggered it. Maybe it was something about walking across a stage at a national tournament, maybe something about my older sister graduating, maybe something about falling flat on my face in all my debate goals last year. But I can’t get it out of my head. What if I never do place at nationals? I graduate, I grow up, and I move on. What if I meet my goals, have an incredibly successful senior (or junior) year, have an unforgettable experience and develop friendships that last a lifetime? I graduate, I grow up, and I move on. What if I win Nationals? I graduate, I grow up, and I move on. Every option I look at ends the same. I graduate, I grow up, and I move on. Yes, I have graduophobia. I don’t want to move on, and I’m nowhere close to grown up. But still, the reality of the fact that I will have to move on in fourteen to fifteen months has really been making me wonder why I care, why it matters. It’s so temporary.

I’ve always hated apathy. My response to people who just don’t care has always been frustration. Come on, people! Don’t you realize this matters? My philosophy on competition has always been that if you’re going to do something, give it your all! My mom gently reminds me that life needs balance, it can’t be all about straight A’s and speech and debate. People pretty quickly agree that going into a a competition with the attitude that you must win isn’t a good thing for a Christian to do. But they aren’t as quick to agree that going into a competition and not caring if you win or lose is just as bad. Now don’t get me wrong, if we win, we praise Him, and if we lose, we praise Him! But I think brining apathy into a round is just as bad as making winning your absolute focus. If you genuinely don’t care if you win or lose, you’re wasting your time. But now we’re right back where we started, if it doesn’t matter, in the vast scheme of things, why should we care? This is where my question really gets boiled down. If it doesn’t matter, because there’s more to life than winning and losing, but apathy is a bad thing and I should do everything as if working for the Lord, why do I compete in speech and debate? Shouldn’t I find something more impactful to do with my time? Why do I compete in speech and debate? Why do I get up at five and stay up ‘till midnight just to compete in these tournaments?

I think, maybe, I’ve figured out an answer. After my parents, my Uncle has probably been the most influential adult in my life. I was talking to him on sunday, and that conversation, along with my own nagging thoughts, and countless conversations with others, has gotten me to the point that I think I might finally have a conclusion on why I do this. He asked me how my tournament had gone and I told him that I didn’t feel like it had been my best. I could have done better. I could have tried harder. I could have been healthier. Then said, “I can really tell that doing well in speech and debate is important to you. If you keep working on it and give it enough effort and dedication, you will do well.” I smiled. I had needed to hear that. “And then what?” I asked. “I do well, I reach my goals, and then what?” The answer going through my head was I graduate, I grow up, and I move on.

“Then, you look at your achievements, and you count it all as rubbish, just like Paul said. And then you move on to the next thing. But whatever you do, do it with passion, or don’t do it at all. God has given you gifts and passions so that you can pursue them. Sometimes we don’t want the gifts that God gives us, but he gave them to us for a reason. Don’t forget, while you pursue them, that this is all temporary, but don’t let that be a reason not to pursue them.”

I think, maybe, I’ve finally got it. Yes, I should give every round everything I’ve got. I do speech and debate because it’s a God-given passion and ability. I will graduate, grow up, and move on. I will look at my achievements and count them all as rubbish. Think about that word, Rubbish. Garbage, waste, something you throw away. Something you move on from. You don’t keep rubbish. You don’t hold onto it. You let it go. But you never let go the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ. In NCFCA I have found friendships that have encouraged me, challenged me, and led me to a deeper relationship with my Savior. In NCFCA I have learned the value of an argument, and the value of silence. In NCFCA I have learned to ask questions, instead of volunteering opinion. I have learned how to deal with failure and disappointment. I’ve become quite familiar with failure and disappointment, and I’ve also become familiar with success. I’ve learned how to win and how to lose. 

I can’t say it’s a regular attitude for me, if it was, I think I wouldn’t be writing this, I wouldn’t have had this question on the back of my mind for months and months, but I have had award ceremonies when I really do look at the piece of paper in my hand and consider it rubbish. There were a couple times in particular. Once was when I took third in Apologetics. My speech had been one that was so heartfelt and something I had so passionately wanted to share that I walked out of the room and almost wished that it hadn’t been for competition. The other time was when I did well in the essay contest. I got disqualified from regionals with my only speech. When I got my ballots back, I learned that I had picket-fenced two of my three rounds, and I asked myself the same question I’ve been asking myself here. Why do I do this? Then the essay contest was announced. My first thought was, I’ve got to win this! But then as I started working on my essay and looking at the topic, I realized it was a topic I felt so deeply about, I needed to share it. I truly believed that this was something that people needed to here, so I begged God to just use my words and take them where they needed to go. And He did. When I walked across that stage in Oklahoma I wished that I could have remained anonymous. Those were God’s words, not mine. I didn’t want that cup!

I still do want to do well. I still want to make it to the big, invitational tournaments, to walk across that stage, to reach my goals, but there’s more to speech and debate than that. Part of the value of competition is that those certificates that you get, with your name printed in fancy letters and Mr. Wenzel’s signature at the bottom, remind you that your achievements are rubbish. That your goals which you have reached are just as fragile and worthless as that piece of paper in your hands. That all of this, that all of life beyond this: your career, your academic life, your achievements, are rubbish when held against the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus our Lord. And in spite of the fact that it is all rubbish, it is all worth it. God gives us passions so that we can pursue them passionately. Competition, when approached with the right attitude, drives us to success and pulls us closer to God. Our trophies are worthless, but the time spent competing for them is priceless.