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.