Tough Questions

"Why did God bless me with such wonderful friends?"

"Why does growing up have to hurt so much?"

A dear friend of mine asked these questions last night as we sat together on my couch. I didn't have an answer. All I could do was hold her and find the same questions echoing back in my mind.

That first question has been on my mind a lot lately. I have the most amazing friends in the world. I totally don't deserve them. That's really struck home in the past couple of weeks. I hadn't been doing very well; I had found myself in a bit of a slump. It's a pretty normal thing for me, and I know I would be out of it soon enough. Usually when I'm in such a slump I can keep up a pretty convincing façade. My issue are my issues, and I'm used to dealing with them on my own. But last week . . . last week I couldn't keep up the act. In fact, by the time Friday rolled around, people I would never have expected to notice were asking what was wrong. Friends that were super busy went out of their way to ask how I was doing and give me hugs. It made the slump a lot more survivable.

Being in college makes me ask my friend's second question a lot more than I used to. Growing up is painful. I spent most of my childhood waiting for the day I could get my driver's license, and almost every day after my sixteenth birthday waiting for the day I could move out of my house. Going home on breaks, I still find myself waiting for the day when I can move out. But really . . . growing up is hard. It's terrifying. I still struggle to comprehend the fact that I'm a legal adult. I don't feel like I'm mature enough . . . or responsible enough . . . or strong enough.

That's been my biggest battle over the past month or so. No matter what I do; no matter how much I try to talk myself into thinking otherwise, I'm never quite strong enough. I see my friends struggling to get by . . . I watch my parents fight with my brother . . . and I realize that in the end, there's absolutely nothing I can do about it. I can't even keep my own life under control for more than a couple of hours, so how could I possibly help anyone else?

I've always wanted to be stronger than I am. I've always felt the pressure to be strong. My friends turn to me when life doesn't go the way they planned; my brother turns to me to defend him when I'm home; my parents turn to me when they can't figure out what to do with my brother . . . and I expect myself to be able to do it all. But I can't.

I can think of few issues I find more difficult in my relationship with God. I want to be self-sufficient. I want to be able to take care of myself and everyone around me. At the same time, I know the only way I'm ever going to get anywhere in life is by surrendering it all to God. Surrender . . . being a living sacrifice is hard. It's so much easier to jump off the altar and run away screaming. At least that's how it seems. When I think about it, though . . . I tend to make a royal mess of things when I'm trying to run my own life. God definitely does a much better job. I'm just too proud to let Him.