Till All Our Strivings Cease: Reflections on a Four-Year Journey

Note: What follows is an article I wrote for the most recent student newspaper at TEDS, the "Graduate Scrawl."

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“O Lord God, I am not worthy to be here. I fear to fail you, to go through this program without deepening in you. Forgive me for my lack of faith, Lord. May my efforts here show forth Your glory.”

With the words of this prayer, scribbled on a notecard during Orientation, I began my master’s degree at Trinity. Fearing failure. Fearing weakness. Longing to please God but fearful my own inadequacies would keep me from being “good enough.” Four years later, as I reflect back on my time at TEDS I can’t help but think of a well-worn vignette from C. S. Lewis’s Prince Caspian, when Aslan takes Eustace and strips off the dragon skin, transforming Eustace from a selfish, petty boy to a mature young man. I suspect I know exactly how Eustace felt–God has used the past four years to strip away some of the toughest layers of my own dragon skin so that I can minister as the person He made me to be.

Stripping the Outermost Layer: From “T” to “F”

One of the thickest layers the Lord has stripped away during my time at TEDS was my pride in my intellect. When I entered seminary, I saw myself primarily as a walking mind; I valued intellectual ability and rational thinking above all else. Imagine my horror when I took the Keirsey Temperament Sorter in “Personal Assessment” and discovered that I am a “Feeler,” not a “Thinker”! I took the test over and over, trying my hardest to be a “T” while still answering honestly. After all, I was destined to become one of the great academicians, dazzling the world with my theological treatises, NOT one of those “touchy-feely” counselor-types.

It wasn’t until my third year in seminary that I began to embrace being an “F”. By God’s grace, that year I enjoyed community and friendship as never before; for the first time in my life I found myself spending as much time with people as with my books. To my astonishment, I discovered that I actually love being with people, talking with people, listening to people, caring for people, even counseling people. In other words, I found I had a heart for ministry, not just a mind for theology.

Destroying the Deadliest Layer: From Striving to Resting

During my first two years at seminary, I worked over twenty hours a week, carried a full class load, participated on music teams in chapel and at church, ran four miles multiple times a week, helped to lead a student group, and slept an average of six hours a night. I was miserable, but I felt I couldn’t afford to spend time resting.

I resisted rest, fearing that if I stopped, I would fail – fail to earn As, to earn enough money, to earn approval from friends and professors, to keep in shape, … to please God. As hard as I worked, I was haunted by a deep, deep sense that I was never good enough and could never measure up to God’s standard for me. I knew in my head that my relationship with God relies more on His faithfulness than mine, but I was so fearful of spiritual complacency that I could not rest in His grace. I appended a string of “ifs” to “My grace is sufficient for you.”

But my frantic pace could not continue forever, and eventually my body rebelled. I was forced to rest and thus to face what I feared most: the silence of inactivity, where striving must cease. In that terrible silence, I have begun to learn the most basic and the most difficult lesson of all: grace. Following God is not a matter of doing or working hard but of continual surrender, learning to be dependent on Him and transformed by Him – being willing to submit as He strips the dragon-layers away.


Leaving the Layers Behind

As I prepare to graduate, less of a dragon than when I arrived, I am equal parts excited and scared. This “ministry” thing is still new to me – four years ago, I was merely a mind who eventually wanted to teach. I’m still getting used to the “new me,” the one who loves church work and treasures the deep privilege of rejoicing with those who rejoice and weeping with those who weep, the one who ministers not just in what she does but out of who she is. I still doubt my own abilities to “make it” in ministry, but I know that God has called me. And I am beginning to suspect that His strength just might actually be made perfect in my weakness.