You have graduated from college, and are now in the in between. And let’s be honest — while you have accomplished much, the in between hurts like hell. It feels like all your limbs are being pulled in opposite directions, and you are young and the world is so very big.
The idea of the quarter-life crisis would never have caught on without people like us. We feel every ounce of the weight of our decisions, and we are young, the world is big, and we can do literally anything we want, but we want to live our one life well.
Blessedly, I had a wedding a month after my college graduation. I emptied myself of energy in preparation, not even allowing my mind to consider what had just happened. It was a cushion for the shock that came in the days after I walked across the stage. A putting off of the inevitable. After the honeymoon was over and the dust settled on what had become my life, I grieved and grieved hard. If you hear nothing else, hear this: it is okay to grieve.
I spent five months at home before I found a job. Those five months were some of the most difficult, because much of my time was spent alone. My husband had a full time job, and we were in a town where we didn’t know anyone.
And then I met you. As much as two people can bump into each other via the internet nowadays, we did. I will always count our meeting among the gifts — tangible proof that the Lord knew just what I needed.
I had the pleasure of watching you transition to your final year of college, a year that I know has left its mark. You decided, as if out of the clear blue sky, to change your major. Senior year of college, and I know you must have been feeling like your life had been hijacked.
When we’re introduced to Abra(ha)m, scripture says “the LORD had said to Abram, ‘Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you.'” I think God is still in the business of calling us out of our comfort zones, plucking us from all familiarity and planting us smack dab in the middle of the unknown.
There’s an old proverb that says the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. I’ve learned that great leaps of faith are often disguised by these steps.
And I’ve learned that at the end of the day, God pulls us out of our comfort zones so we can experience the true meaning of comfort: that the Lord provides all things. I’ve learned that in the seasons of loneliness, His presence is near, and when we feel empty, He is only preparing to fill us.
I’ve learned that there are questions. Should I get married? Should I apply for a masters degree? Where should I live? Who am I? And I’ve learned that He holds the answers.
I’ve learned that He goes before us, and that everything is held together by His grace. When it seems like our comfort zone is so far out of sight, the Comforter is drawing us closer. When it seems like we’re faced with all the questions and none of the answers, we have unadulterated access to the Giver of all wisdom.
We simply have to take the first step. And the real secret? God told Gideon to go in the strength that he had. There’s no formula, no code, and blessedly, no scantron. We just move. We put one foot in front of the other, open our hands a little bit more, and a little bit more…