The train is rumbling along the curves of the mountain outside the screened-in porch where I’m sitting; the birds are singing (it’s been so long since I’ve heard sustained birdsong that it almost feels unreal); and a gentle spring breeze stirs the loose thread on my seat cushion every few moments.
With spring comes lots of decisions. I visited one college today, and I’m off to another one tomorrow. That would be, if I have counted correctly, the sixth college so far. I don’t exactly know why, but college visits leave me utterly exhausted, physically and emotionally. Physically speaking, I only listened to a lecture on Macbeth, chatted with the Education and English professors, got a salad and a dish of rice and stir fry for lunch, and walked around campus. But a college visit involves so much more than observing a class or getting to know possible future professors. It’s a journey of the soul; it takes you deep into yourself, making you question your future and all the plans you have set out for yourself.
What if I make a mistake and choose the wrong path?
My appointment with the Education professor was the last event on my schedule. At a little before 3:00, I walked into a little office with potted plants sitting drowsily on a windowsill and sat down at a round, black table. A whiteboard with a marker drawing of a girl in speakers and a blue and green earth hung on the wall, directly below a poster with the smiling faces of several Grove City graduates, now teachers, and their students.
“You’ve probably already heard a lot about Grove City,” Dr. Nichols began. She had a friendly face with brilliant blue eyes and an endearing smile. “I want this session to be as helpful as possible. Let’s start with any questions you might have.”
That question always intimidates me, since I feel pressured to ask some extremely discerning question and impress my potential future professor with my intelligence. I glanced sideways for inspiration. No intellectual, discerning question popped into my head. Instead, my heart was bursting to know, how on earth do I know if I’m called to be a teacher? The words that actually came out of my mouth were more diplomatic, but still confused and maybe a little desperate.
She smiled reassuringly and assured me that God will inevitably bring to fruition His calling on my life, and that I don’t need to have it all figured out. “You probably have friends you say that have it all planned out,” she explained, “but that’s so unrealistic.”
But it’s so much more comfortable to have it all figured out, to have some kind of a plan. People are capable of making huge mistakes. Would I really have the same future if I went to Grove City as if I opted for, say, a secular community college? Or if I decided not to go to college at all?
My Spanish teacher sent me an email the other day that shed perspective on the process of discerning God’s will. Paraphrasing the message of Kevin DeYoung’s book, Just Do Something, he explained that “God has not planned out a specific course for us that He expects us to follow, but then hidden that course so that we need to be wracking our brains and scrutinizing every sign to make sure we don’t miss it. Yes, He knows each of our days and is sovereign over them. But ‘determining His will’ is not about trying to unscramble the clues he has given us so that we can follow the path he marked out…If we have multiple good options to choose from, we can freely consult our own desires with a view to loving and serving God in every situation.”
I don’t need to look for omens, or signs, or some miraculous proof that I’m choosing the right path. How freeing. God gave us a mind and a heart for a reason, and He expects us to use them. And regardless of the mistakes we make, He will ultimately bring us into the calling He has designed specifically for us.
I still have questions (lot’s of them), and I’m still dreading that May 1st decision deadline, when I’ll have to commit to one college and say no to all the others, which means slamming all those doors on my own fingers. I’m still terrified of making the wrong decision, of choosing the wrong college and thereby missing my dream calling and flunking my future. But at the same time, I also have a kind of stillness inside – a sense of being guided, and protected, and deeply loved by Someone greater than colleges and career paths and even the future. It doesn’t depend on me at all, not really. And that’s comforting.