I Have No Idea What I'm Doing: by Sydney Marple
As I prepare to enter month 6 of the Fellows Program during month 11 of a pandemic in a city that still feels foreign and new, I realize I have a blog post due. Last time I wrote a blog I wrote about my mountaintop becoming my valley. I wrote about having to stand on my beliefs even when I hate what that means for people around me, and I wrote about the goodness of Jesus and community in the middle of the hard things. When thinking about what to write for this blog post, I went back and read that one from just 5 months ago. Those words that felt like radical truth while writing them, now feel like the words of a naïve stranger. I remember writing that post and being nervous about how honest and vulnerable I felt I was being, and now that vulnerable girl feels so far away. If I met her for coffee, would I have any answers for the questions she had?
My reality is that the Fellows Program has been incredibly hard for me, and things haven’t gotten “better” since my last blog post. This year hasn’t looked anything like I imagined for both my spiritual and personal life. The job I am doing is one I love, but not one I was expecting or prepared for. My family dynamics have shifted and I moved across the country. Their lives don’t pause when I am not there, and the gap the distance creates is palpable. Relationships with friends I used to live 10 feet from now require scheduled calls and more communication. The state of the nation and the reality of the global pandemic has made me question the role of Christians in the fabric of the world, and I often don’t like what I see. The life events of this year have taken my faith to its core and made me ask the impossible questions like “Do you really believe that, even if it means this for the people you love?”. It has torn me down to the bare foundations and dared me to rebuild.
I’m ashamed to admit that since my last blog post I haven’t done much but stand in the rubble. I wear a lot of hats in my everyday life and it’s hard to know how those have shifted since I have stepped out on my own. I feel like I am holding the clay versions of all the roles I play and being asked to re-sculpt them into a beautiful end result -- and then realizing I have no blueprint. How can I be a good sister to my siblings from halfway across the country when we believe different things? How do I maintain long distance relationships from college while being present in my community? How do I invite coworkers to be in community with me without crossing a line? How do I build the Christian home I want to have without a blueprint?
Most of the time, I really feel like I’m flying blind. I am standing in the rubble on the foundations of my faith holding clay to be molded and doing nothing with it. I know what my dream life looks like, but I don’t know where to start building. How could I build anything without knowing my role?
As I look to rebuild and remodel, I’m given the chance to learn. I don’t know what building a Christian home looks like, but I get to spend every Tuesday night at the Allen family house, learning from watching them love each other well. I don’t know what it looks like to be a good sibling from a distance, but Olivia can help show me. I don’t know what it looks like to be there for friends from college while building new relationships with people here, but I can learn from watching Anna do it with her friend Katie (Katie- good luck on your first sermon!). I don’t know what it looks like to honor my parents from a distance while being independent, but I can learn from Phil. I don’t know what it looks like to be a coworker who is thinking about inviting coworkers into my community, but Robbie does that with ease.
As I figure out what I’m doing, the Fellows Program gives me the chance to admit that I have no idea what I’m doing. Here I have freedom to start building and have it fail. I have freedom to start building and admit that I don’t know what to do, and to admit that I can’t do it alone. These aren’t the 10 people I would have chosen when designing my ideal post-grad community, but we are all parts of a whole. As we are all remodeling our roles and learning from each other in some way, I am reminded that I am not the only one who feels frozen without a clear step forward.
Above all, I am reminded that sanctification sometimes just means that I have no idea what I’m doing. As much as the Fellows are all parts of a whole community, we are also a part of something bigger. My roles are changing, my life is changing, and I am changing. During that process, I have a chance to look more like Jesus. As hard as it has been for me these past few months, I have found a lot of humility and peace by sitting in front of the cross and saying “I have no idea what I’m doing, I have no idea what you’re doing, I’m really frustrated, and I’m scared I can’t do this.” I am reminded that Jesus isn’t scared of my honesty, and neither is anyone else. The only person really scared of my honesty is me. So, here is my honesty once again, on full display, for the community of people who give me the freedom to fail. I have no idea what I’m doing!
