The last few days of holidays are upon me and I’m not quite sure how to face the coming year. It’s a strange thing, this theological college. The longer I spend here, the more people think I know. The longer I spend here, the less I know. You come here expecting answers and yes, you get them, but with those answers come more questions and more that your mind struggles to comprehend. I’m not ready. I’m simply not ready yet.
I’m not ready for lectures with Google constantly open to look up meanings because the lecturer’s vernacular is beyond my own. I’m not ready for readings that force me to think deeply about each and every sentence. I’m not ready for language work that reminds me that I should have worked on my paradigms over the Summer. I’m not ready. I’m not ready for any of it.
But then again, I don’t ever feel ready. Can you be ready? It’s hard to say, because when it comes down to it, my fear isn’t the work – the work is something that fills my days with the things of God and fills moments with conversations that truly are examples of iron sharpening iron. I like that. I love it, in fact.
My fear, to tell you the truth, is that all of this knowledge will not deepen my love for Jesus. My fear is that knowledge will puff me up, as it tends to do, and that I will look for a credit average rather than the Saviour of the world. My fear is that I will leave this place in two years and know more, but love less.
I remember conversations before coming to Moore. I remember warnings to not let it change me. I remember the criticisms of this place. They’re impossible to forget, because people so readily offer them. It isn’t this place that I needed to be warned about, though. It’s my own sinful heart I needed to be reminded of. I needed to be reminded to always have a soft heart to hear His word and a sharp mind to always delight in His word. I needed to be reminded that the greatest good is God’s glory, and not a high distinction. I needed to be reminded that the end goal is not my greatness, but His.
This place isn’t to blame for any of what I’m feeling, though it can magnify my own flaws. This fear I feel is deep and persistent, but this fear also pushes me to remember why I am here and who it is that I serve. It is He. It is Him. It is the Lord.
If He can still the oceans, surely He can still the fears within me. If He can speak the stars into being, surely He can hold a weary heart in His hands. If He can give Himself for me, surely His grace can bring this good work he has begun in me to completion.
If He is who He says He is, then it doesn’t matter if I’m ready, because He is.