“God deliberately chose things the world considers foolish in order to shame those who think they are wise.” -1 Corinthians 1:27
An overwhelming amount of angst filled that deep pit in my stomach as I tried to make sense of all the formidable thoughts simultaneously racing through my head. In attempt to embrace myself for the upcoming moment, I grabbed the hand of the girl sitting in the plastic chair next to my own. I will always be in disbelief that we actually ended up next to each other, for the chances were highly not in our favor. But there she was holding my hand on this important day—the last day of school—a day that we had been anticipating since our first day of school 17 years prior. At the time the angst of the future was subdued to the effort of trying to comprehend that this chapter of our lives was actually over. In the last four years, we had grown up together. We had been through the conquering of one another’s goals and life lessons; bad haircuts and bad boyfriends; nights that we wanted to forget and nights that we couldn’t if we tried. It was bittersweet; and although at the time I wasn’t sure if I was ready for what awaited me on the other side of that stage, looking back now, I realize that prepared is exactly opposite of what I was.
Growing up, adults always reference the real world as a passive warning of what is to come. But after months and months of forcing my brain to produce papers upon papers and study for tests upon tests, the real world didn’t sound like such a shabby place. A place where when I finished work, I was done for the day—there was no homework, no grades. A place where one actually had time to live rather than just being consumed with school. However, what I came to find was that along with the cutting of these strings came loneliness. And defeat. I left a world where I lived with all of my best friends and had limited responsibilities for a world which very quickly became mundane. The rejection letters in response to job applications and the goodbyes to friends as they ventured over state lines got old really quick. And months later, there I was, still stuck in the same rut I had been occupying since that wretched graduation day. A rut consisting of me feeling as if I was not contributing to the world, a crappy restaurant job, and the formulation of multiple false friendships. And it was killing me—piece by piece. But that state of frustration, impatience, and confusion is where this story begins.
I remember being beckoned into my roommate’s room about a month before graduation as she rambled on about a trip that with a lifetime supply of student loan debt should have been immediately disregarded. A trip in which one gets to spend 11 months loving and helping the people of 11 different countries. A trip of a lifetime. Although I knew that there was no logical way for me to embark on such a journey, especially right after graduation considering I was really excited about spending some time at home, something inside me convinced me to bookmark it on my computer. You know, just so that I could read about all the other people embarking on this adventure and what God was doing through them. I should have known better.
I know how God tends to speak to me, and I should have realized at the time, but instead I was being too stubborn and strong-willed. And it took me a couple of months, and a copious amount of frustration, until I realized that navigating through this hard season was all a part of the plan. For me to end up staying in Charleston and constantly smell quesadillas every day at work in order for me to meet Mary—a coworker already signed up to leave for the trip—was all a part of the plan. And as things always do, everything came about in the perfect timing. That bookmark became more than a hypothetical adventure as I emerged myself into the stories of veterans of the field. And in substitution to the graduate school applications I was supposed to be filling out, I applied. And yes I think it was a foolish decision. I think it is foolish to give up a year that could be used to put yourself one step closer to a career, and I think it is foolish to defer student loans for a year and spend your whole bank account on trip with strangers. But to me, it made perfect sense. It offered me a purpose—an opportunity to serve and love others around the world. The ultimate purpose, in my opinion.
And as Mark Batterson once wrote, “If you aren’t willing to look foolish, you’re foolish. In fact, faith is the willingness to look foolish. The greatest breakthroughs, miracles, and turning points in Scripture can be traced back to someone who was willing to look foolish.” Perhaps nothing has changed.
