terrified

My heart froze as every light on my dashboard flashed on and off, Christmas-style. Which would have been fascinating, had it been Christmas, and had I not been driving 65 mph down I-80.

"DAD EVERYTHING IS FLASHING. IT'S FLASHING AND I'M DRIVING 65 MILES PER HOUR."

Dad told me everything would be fine, I just needed to make it home. Yes, okay. I can make it home with a Christmas light show. It will be fine.

It wasn't fine.

Five minutes later my car refused to go any further and I found myself on the shoulder (which was barely a shoulder as the mountains of snow took up most of the shoulder space) of the interstate, under an overpass, as semis and SUVs sped past me, ON A FRIDAY (car problems are not meant for Fridays!), shaking my car and throwing me into a full-blown emotional meltdown.

The last time I was so terrified was probably when I was 7 years old, trying to fall asleep after watching scary Lifetime movies with my mom. It is a scary thing to be completely out-of-control, knowing full well that all it would take is one unfocused driver to let his car veer a bit too far to the right, sending me right into the presence of the Lord Jesus.

Which was my only comfort as I tried to manage the terrors of speeding semis and overpasses (which have always slightly frightened me. what if they just crumbled on top of you?? If that's even possible, it would happen to me). And I wish I could say I "managed the terrors" well, which I guess depends on your definition of handling absolute, unadulterated fear well. If that means curled up into a ball in your passenger seat listening to worship music on your phone with tear-filled eyes pinched shut, then yes I handled that impeccably.

And I also wish I could tell you that instance was the most scared I was this weekend. But I think God knows how much I love literary devices, so He let that little moment of dread foreshadow my weekend. Ladies and gentlemen, I spent most of my weekend absolutely terrified.

This weekend was spent meeting potential bosses, digging into potential careers, thinking, tentatively planning, dreaming, imagining. The cloud of fear followed me.

I need to make a decision about after I graduate.

And, dear readers, my biggest option right now involves moving to the town of Ames, Iowa. The last place I EVER pictured myself. Because there are girls that go to Iowa State University, and they desperately need Jesus. And there is a ministry there called CRU that desperately needs female leaders. And I desperately need a job, one that involves ministry and evangelism and a complete reliance on Jesus.

And these three needs could be simultaneously met if I moved to Ames. If I committed to sharing Jesus with the girls there. Which is thrillingly exciting, and earth-shatteringly terrifying. Visiting a city you may move to is emotional and scary. Meeting people who could be your friends (as I would be leaving all mine behind) is nerve-racking. Having dinner with big-wig CRU people on top of all of that is enough to make you wish you were in that Christmas-lit car in a ball, under the overpass, hanging out with the zooming cars and semis.

I was stiffened with fear.

And the irony with this fear (more literary devices, glad God gives me some entertainment in the midst of all this apprehension) is that, unlike in my car, I am in control. This is my decision. I can choose this, or I can stay here. I can leave my family, my friends, my familiarity, my normalcy. Or I can stay. Keep doing what I'm doing. There is nothing inherently wrong with teaching piano lessons and playing for worship team. Nothing wrong with living at home with mom and dad and saving money for a new car (which is a real need, after what happened on Friday). But after a whirlwind weekend of processing and planning and seeing and praying and wondering and freaking, there is so much peace. I have never been so terrified and so at peace in my entire life.

There are so many questions. I'd have to raise support (I would probably be asking YOU for money). I'd have to find a place to live. What if Jon and I broke up? What if I'm bad at this? What if this is the wrong choice? What if I don't make friends? What will people think of me moving to my boyfriend's city, and deciding that not even 2 months after we started dating?

But there is a phrase that has been stuck in my head ever since church on Sunday (the church I would probably attend if I moved there. Guys, this was a crazy weekend.) was,

How could I not?

How could I not go help? How could I not share the love of Jesus? How dare I stay here? How dare I not even try? He could say no. Maybe I won't get enough support, maybe things won't work out and I will still be in Omaha next year. But how could I not try?

So, friends. I'm going to try.

I'm terrified. But not so much anymore.

Reality has hit like a ton of bricks. I've said I wanted to move away forever. This is real though. I'm sobered. I'm scared. I don't know what life will look like.

But amidst the shock and the fear and the confusion and the fogginess, I am absolutely, gratefully, humbly, hand-shakingly, inherently ECSTATIC.

Life is scary. But God handles the interstate shoulder fears just as well as He handles the life-changing, career-choosing ones.

And so I trust Him.

And I will try.