What Being Late to Session Taught Me

I panted as I hurried to the SMP (Squad meeting point). Our campus is very hilly and somehow you never get used to the constant clambering up and down gravelly slopes and slanted stairs. Everything was deserted- the road, the porta potties, the dining patio- because everyone was already in session, and I was late. I hate being late. I have inherited an annoying intensity when it comes to matters of time- almost everyone in my family is disturbingly punctual. More than that, I have an inherent fear of breaking rules. 

Stress built up in the back of my mind as I rehearsed my “I’m sorry” speech in my head. I could just picture a silent room with 25 judgmental faces ready to condemn me upon my arrival for dishonoring their time. “I’m sorry, I lost track of time. I was reading at the campsite,” seemed a flimsy excuse in my head. I would accept it if someone else pleaded innocence, but being merciful to myself is an entirely different issue. I was skipping over the last step of the long staircase that connected the campsites to the building where our SMP resides, when a small voice whispered in the back of my head, “Why do you need to try so hard?”

I’ve never thought of myself as a “try hard” type of gal. I never sought out challenges growing up, and if one did arise, I would trudge half-heartedly through it. But that only applied to my school work and extracurriculars. I definitely tried hard to be a “good Christian girl” for my entire life. When I became a Christian in 9th grade, this perfectionism of my faith never stopped, I just told myself I was doing things because I loved God. Really, I was just as afraid of messing up as ever. I knew I loved God, but allowing Him to love me, that was different. So I try hard, to always do the right thing, to never get in trouble, to be “beyond reproach”. Of course, all of this striving comes to nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor, and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I am nothing. (1 Corinthians 13:3) The love Paul is describing is not my love that I deign to distribute to people, but God’s love for me. If I don’t realize God’s love for me, all my love, all my striving, all my perfection, is empty craving for glory that does not belong to me. 

I break God’s rules daily. My subservience to human rules are only a reflection of how I view myself- unworthy of attention unless I earn it through good behavior. I try hard because I don’t believe in my own worth in Christ. I was ok with being the “good girl” growing up because at least people knew me for something. But they only saw the shell of misplaced faith instead of the sincere actions of a soul who really believed God loved her. I thought being a Christian was loving God. Now I am beginning to understand that being a Christian is being loved by God. 

At the beginning of Training Camp, Jodi, our squad mentor, asked us to write down why we were here. My reasons were altruistic but vague. I’ve always felt the call to missions and service and I thought that was the reason that God placed this program on my heart. I thought He was calling me to go tell others about Christ. But I think that first He wanted to tell me about Christ. He wanted to show me who I was to Him, how I am loved, protected, and honored by Him. He wanted to tell me how proud of me He is, not because of what I’ve done, but because of who I am. He was proud of me before I did anything good. Why else would he so publicly proclaim His desire for me to be in His family? This God, perfect in holiness, ripped heaven open, scaring his flawless hands, just so that He could spend eternity in intimate communion with me. He is PROUD to call me His daughter, long before I did anything to deserve it. 

When I arrived at the SMP 15 minutes late, no one was angry. No condemnation awaited me as I tiptoed through the silent watchers and took my place on the floor. My friends grinned at me, and their eyes sparkled with their pleasure because I had finally made it. I believe this was the reception I received upon arriving at the cusp of God’s love. All my life I have been studying and striving, reading and watching, knowing God as if from a textbook. Now it feels like I am beginning to know in my heart what I have always known in my head. I am loved by God, not just because the Bible tells me so, but because I have experienced the overwhelming torrent of His affection. Thank God, who brought me to this place that I might know how proud He is of me. Thank God, that I can now walk in the freedom of being loved, without fear of condemnation. Thank God, from whom all blessings flow.