Safe and Secure

Books with notes sticking out of them, others with marked-up pages and many inscribed by my former professors stare at me as I place one by one on their designated shelf. Half-empty cardboard boxes lay scattered around my bedroom floor. Papers, index cards, and Post-it notes get sorted and piled on my bed. Eventually the stacks of papers will make it into a file. And those files will find their place in a box labeled by a Sharpie.

Books with notes sticking out of them, others with marked-up pages and many inscribed by my former professors stare at me as I place one by one on their designated shelf. Half-empty cardboard boxes lay scattered around my bedroom floor. Papers, index cards, and Post-it notes get sorted and piled on my bed. Eventually the stacks of papers will make it into a file. And those files will find their place in a box labeled by a Sharpie.

I open up my laptop. One by one I sort through dozens of files, notes and papers. With every click I get a sense of sadness that eventually takes over my sense of nostalgia. Unable to sort out my feelings I stare at my computer. My tears prove stronger than my will and I weep. “I miss seminary. There, I said it!”

Looking back I can see that seminary made me feel safe. I felt smart, important and brave. In those days, I wrote papers with the courage of Joshua. The strength I had would probably make Samson weak in the knees. Well, not really. I balanced mothering, school and everything else with a husband who travels as part of his job. I planned parties, menus and my homework. God’s arms embraced me amidst the chaos and I flourished. He secured me tightly.

Then seminary ended. And I stepped back into the world of insecurity. Fear often creeps in and I find myself cowardly huddled in a corner feeling helpless, worthless and unmotivated. My professors told me, they warned the world would try to paralyze me. My writing mentor said that rejection accompanies published articles and books. I thought, “I think I’m prepared.” After all, I did all my homework, charted the books of the Bible and studied hard.

For many of us, we think security comes from our own work. We feel secure by the success of our jobs, our titles and even how much money we make. We look at the superficial things to give us a sense of protection instead of realizing that we sit under the shadow of God’s wings.

Some seminary grads do the same thing. We think that once we receive the title of our new ministry position, we will find a sense of security in our lives. So when the label never arrives or our egos finally get depleted because life happens, we find ourselves amidst an unlovely world that tries to define us. Chaos surrounds us, the fear of failure consumes us and encouragement remains scarce. We feel alone and we forget God still stands next to us giving us the strength to remember what we learned so that we can apply it to our lives and share it with others.

In all of our circumstances, whether we lead in a ministry, write for a prestigious magazine or we walk through the front door of our homes to hear those beloved words, “Mom, you’re home,” we need to remember that the shadow of His wings has not changed or moved. The security we have in Christ still stands firmly as the waves of life continue to pound us to our knees.

Perhaps I will always miss seminary the way an adult misses the innocence of youth. Life after seminary appears different than what I expected. Maybe I try too hard or waiting just seems endless. I do know that when life gets really messy I often feel insecure. I grab my mental Sharpie and automatically label myself. In moments of darkness I need to remember that God has already permanently labeled me as His child. And nothing or no one will ever change that about me (Psalm 91; John 10:28, 29; Romans 8:28–39).

Where does your security come from? Have you forgotten who holds you? Don’t let fear or others paralyze you into thinking you’re not enough. Take a moment and redirect your gaze on your Heavenly Father.

“On my bed I remember you; I think of you through the watches of the night. Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings. I cling to you; your right hand upholds me.” Psalm 63:6-8