It was the beginning of my sophomore year of college. We were told to stand quietly, lined up in alphabetical order in a stairwell with other girls who were just as nervous as I was. All I could do as I waited was take deep breaths and try not to choke on the peppermint I was given by our rho gamma. And then, my heart raced as the moment we had all been waiting for occurred: the door to the first suite swung open, and I tried not to trip in my heels as I walked in to a hall lined with members of the house. They were all dressed to the T, with perfectly pinned curls and shiny lipgloss to match their stylish, matching ensembles. I held my shoulders back, and with a confident smile I said hello to the first sister I was introduced to. We exchanged lighthearted yet semi-awkward conversation as she led me to a sofa in the formal sitting room. She motioned for me to sit, and she sweetly sat on the floor with her hands placed in her lap. I looked around as the other PNM’s (potential new members) filed into the room around me. The noise level in the room instantly rose as we tried our best to impress the sister we each spoke to. This was just the beginning of it… sorority recruitment.
After repeating this cycle for all 13 sororities, we were asked to rank the houses in order of preference. And here’s the catch: the sororities would also be ranking us. We were carefully observed during our short stay in each house, and an opinion was formed amongst the entire house about whether or not we had the potential to be a member. Every night, some fancy computing system (or so I imagined it to be) matched up the rankings to determine where we would be invited back to the following night.
After a week of this tiring process of trying to prove myself to be worthy enough of selection into a sisterhood, many tears, but also a heck of a lot of excitement—I got my envelope. No envelope equals no bid, but an envelope in your hand means that a bid has been issued and you have the option to either accept or decline the invitation to join that house. I opened my envelope amongst a sea of other girls and squealed with delight: I had been chosen for the sorority that I wanted. I walked outside of the university’s student union with my pledge class to find our new sisters cheering, singing, and well—screaming for us. I felt like a celebrity. I felt like I was good enough, beautiful, smart, and confident. I made the cut. I was in. Let the best years of my life begin… right?
Well, my sorority years in college were filled with good and bad times, and I look back on them with mixed emotions. Did I always have somewhere to go in between classes? Yes. Did I add 60 new phone numbers to my contact list? Yes. Did I learn “secrets” of our house, along with a handshake and password? Yes. Did I attend candlelight ceremonies in which we all had to wear the same thing and recite our creeds? Yes. Was I invited to the best parties on campus every weekend? Yes. Did I form a wonderful and deep connection with my “big” and “little”? Yes. And if I could go back in time, knowing what I know now, would I do it a bit differently? Yes.
You see, being a member of a sorority gave me an inflated sense of pride, but with a large dose of insecurity. I strutted around my campus in my lettered shirt, showing the whole student body that I belonged. And yet, I never truly felt known and understood by my sisters as a whole. I never felt like myself as cheap beer was shoved into my hand and I was supposed to join the drunken dance party at our mixers with fraternities. I would leave early, and the next morning I wouldn’t have the same crazy stories from the night before to share. And as the years in my sorority continued, I subconsciously pulled away more and more. Is this really me? Why do I need to take a shot of vodka in order to feel accepted by my “truest friends”? Why is it mandatory that I attend a certain number of parties each semester? What if… what if there’s something more to life and feeling like I am a part of a greater story, beyond sleepless nights and hungover mornings?
And that’s when my story with Jesus began to take off.
I started attending this seemingly high-tech and upbeat campus of a non-denominational church right around the corner from the university. Sure—I might have reluctantly been at a mixer the night before—but service on Sunday became something that I looked forward to. I stood in the back of the congregation during worship and cried, because I knew that the empty places in my heart could be filled there. I just didn’t know how. I wanted to belong there; I just didn’t know what I needed to say or do to be worthy enough of acceptance.
And one day, it clicked. All I needed to do was say yes to this man, to this savior and son of God named Jesus. There was no audition process. There was no forced conversation or fake smiles. I was accepted when I was looking my best, and I was accepted when I looked my worst. We didn’t have to rank each other, and a fancy computer system didn’t decide if I would get another chance to prove myself to him. In fact, I was more than enough, and he had been waiting for me all along. There’s nothing I could do that was bad enough to get kicked out, and there was no fine I had to pay for messing up. In fact—he had already paid it when he died on the cross.
There were many lessons learned, friends gained and lost, and times not only spent well—but also… wasted—during my sorority days. And tonight, at my alma mater on the other side of the world, many new rushees are opening their envelopes declaring their acceptance into my sorority. I am excited for their adventure into Greek life; but at the same time, my heart breaks for those who were looking for the same sense of belonging as I was searching for. I only wish that I had known about a place that I could go to—straight into Jesus’ arms—to understand my true value and worth instead of seeking it solely through sisterhood.
“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” Matt. 11:28-30 (MSG).
