The Finals Week from Hell: Fall Semester in Retrospect

So here we are, on the brink of a new semester, and all the blogging I had planned for christmas break didn't get done at all.  Oops.  I guess I was too busy having fun.  :)

There are lots of things I had planned on blogging about.  Tim Tebow and the Broncos.  Skiing.  Fun times with the family.  The meaning of Christmas.  Sin.  Joy.  Beautiful baby boys and girls who giggle and make me (momentarily) rethink my "plan" that I don't want children.  But the one thing that I can't shake, the one thing that I think I just HAVE to share, is finals.  Not because it was glorious, but because it was extraordinarily ugly.  And so, so magnificent. 

There's some basic background you need to this story:  I'm not great at school.  I'm about average on intelligence, but my stubborn level (and thus, when I want it to be, my work ethic) is probably in the 99th percentile.  (Seriously, ask my mom.  She'll tell you the same thing).  I don't get great grades, I really struggle with testing, but high school taught me how to B.S. just about anything, so I manage. I'm not outstandingly organized - I only color-code things because I like for things to look like rainbows, not because it's actually something helpful.  I know where all my crap is, but it's chaos to anyone else.  I know how to plan ahead, but just because I know how, doesn't mean I always do it.

In high school (before I was a Christian), I found my justification, my purpose, and my identity to a large degree in my grades.  Not entirely, some of it was found in my athletic ability, my rebellious phase, my "cool factor", my friendships, and other things.  But a lot of it, probably the majority of it, was in my performance at school, and how much I can be involved in.  Since I've become a Christian, I recognize that this is neither healthy or productive, and I've sought to define my identity in one thing only - Christ.  But this has not always been an easy transition.  And I have come a long way, but there is still a long road in front of me. 

And then, this semester, finals came back to bite me, in a big way.  A really big way.  Ask a couple of the girls from my church, they'll tell you what a mess I was.  I think they probably thought someone kidnapped me and replaced me with a crazed, schitzo, manic-depressive clone who was about to burst into tears and/or throw something through a window at any moment.  I feel bad I imposed my very presence on them, that's how much of a nut-job I was. 

In thinking about it in retrospect (always 20/20, right?), I never really got myself together after Haiti.  I jumped straight into traveling and working and family reunions and new bosses and graduations and friends and family... phew!  And then I moved back to DC, and jumped into classes and reading and new work stuff, and friends and a new living situation, and getting behind in classes through something that truly wasn't any fault of my own.  And then 18 credit-hours (mostly upper-level) and church and working 20 hours and crazy professors.... goodness!  So I'm already 6 months exhausted. 

And then finals hit. I'm not sure when this became acceptable, but I took 6 classes.  And I had 9 finals.  Yes, you read that correctly, it's not a type-o.  9 finals.  In one class in particular, I earned 70% of my grade, through 3 COMPLETELY DIFFERENT assignments in the last WEEK (singular) of classes.... (Ridiculous!)  My finals accumulated to 3 comprehensive exams plus 6 research papers which ended up totaling somewhere between 85-100 pages of papers on 6 completely different topics.  And in 3 of those classes, I needed good (B or higher) grades on the finals, or I'd lose my scholarship.  2 of those tests came from crazy-psycho professor who expected way too much out of us (and that's coming from someone who never says that).  Talk about the finals week from hell.

And to top it all off - AU cut off my internet with 2 1/2 weeks left in the semester, for no apparent reason.  And the nearest 24-hour place with internet to me is a 1 mile walk and then a 3 mile bus ride.  What a delightful icing on an already intimidating cake.  *Thank you, AU OIT, you have no idea how much I appreciate you...*  I spent about 12 hours being mad.  And then I realized my being mad wasn't going to fix it.  So I just had to dive in and figure it out.   And nearly all of figuring it out involved relying on the Lord.  In a way I've never done before. 

***Disclaimer:  I'm not saying this for your sympathy, or to point out how much I can juggle successfully.  I'm pointing this out first so that you understand the obstacles I had in my way to remaining faithful to the Lord's plan.  Because He has made it abundantly clear that I am to remain in school right now.  And that plan, unless God provides a giant bag of money from the sky, is going to require my scholarship.  And second, in order that you might understand how desperate I was for any help from the Lord.  Through circumstances almost entirely out of my control, I ended up in this situation, and I had to fight through the victimization mentality, and through the stubborn "I'm a big girl and I can handle anything" mentality and really, really humble myself.***

I hit a point about a week and a half into it, writing papers, where all I could muster was 10 minutes of writing.  Then I'd go read the Bible and pray for 5.  Then write for ten.  Pray for five.  Repeat.  Over and over.  All.  Night.  Long.  And I just kept saying, "Lord, this is all I've got left.  This is it.  I'm giving it everything, and this is just going to have to be enough.  Because even though it's not much, I really truly don't have anything more than this."  I'm sure the other people at the 24-hour Starbucks thought I was completely crazy looking, frantically writing for ten minutes, spread out over 2 chairs and an entire coffee table, and then pulling out my Bible and my journal at various intervals, fighting off tears.

I was desperate.  For anything.  For any sense of relief.  The enemy sent so many discouraging thoughts, discouraging people, and discouraging emotions my way, I could hardly bat them off before the next one hit me.   One of my friends, M., kept encouraging me (so well, so wonderfully - what a blessing she was!!).  She kept saying, "You're going to make it!  I promise!" And on a rational level, I knew that was true.  I knew that even an entire week with not a single second of sleep would not actually kill me.  That I was not in any way in danger.  But so often, I didn't believe it - really.  I didn't know if I was going to make it through without being institutionalized.  I thought "Oh, Lord, I'm not sure!  I'm not sure I can! I don't have it in me!"  I didn't see people, I skipped meals and nights of sleep, the only thing I did was work on school.  Without reprieve.  I was so, so very tired.  All I wanted to do was just sit and cry.  But I knew if I let myself do that I wouldn't be able to pick myself up again, and keep going, so I just fought it.  I knew if one tear fell, it would be over.  And so I read the Psalms.  Over and over.  Especially Psalm 25 and Psalm 103.  I just prayed through them over and over, and over and over.  Never have I ever read one chapter of the Bible so many times in such a short span of time.

I honestly can't recall ever being that desperate for the hand and presence of God.  And you know what? That saying that says, "God won't ever give you more than you can handle"?  I'm here to tell you that's CRAP.  Blarney.  Hogwash.  Hooey.  Absolute bullshit.  God OFTEN gives us more than we can handle.  But you know what?  He NEVER gives us more than HE can handle (I mean, He is the God of the Universe.  There's nothing He can't handle!).  And that was where I was.  I could not do what I needed to do alone.  I needed God.  Truly needed Him.  For me and for my grades.  Not for my glory, for His.

I had to fight through the pride that wanted to ask for good grades so that I could build myself up.  But I fought through, to a place where I could honestly say, "Lord, I don't care what grades I get.  I really don't.  But if you want me to stay in school, you're going to have to get me through this, because I don't see a way out.  I can't do this.  Any of it.  If this is where you want me, you're going to have to do the heavy lifting.  And I'll give you the credit you deserve.  But this is ALL you."

And you know what?  God was GOOD!  SO, ABUNDANTLY GOOD TO ME!!!!!!! I ended up with MUCH better grades than I expected, and I hung on to my scholarship by more than the skin of my teeth like I was expecting.  I saw the grace and provision of God in his Body (oh, praise the Lord for His community!!!), in his protection of me, in his great and abiding peace.  In his sovereign provision of internet when I really needed it, and closing time when what I really needed was sleep.  With friends who helped me, both in class and out of it, with coffee that actually helped me, with professors who were graciously understanding of my situation.  Grace beyond my wildest imagination. 

It wasn't at all pretty.  Or fun.  Or an experience I would want to repeat.  Ever.  But the Lord taught me so much - I had to cling so desperately to Him, I had to not just lean on Him, but throw myself at His feet and beg for him to carry me, and through it, I saw and experienced the sanctification of the Spirit in new ways, the continued destruction of idols, the faithfulness of the Father, treasured the propitiation, justification, and redemption of the Son in new and more meaningful ways,  and experienced the rest and peace of the Lord.  And I learned that sometimes the best, most wonderful moments are experienced when there is absolutely nothing else left. 

And there's nobody I'd rather walk through that week with than my Abba.