This post belongs to a series on the inner mess of my mind. If this seems at all interesting, begin by reading “1. Uncovering the Mess”. Welcome.

#1) I could follow God with everything, he could take everything and leave me with nothing just to give himself glory.

#2) It is kind of selfish of God to make everything about him.

#3) Is God really worth it?

Those were the thoughts we left off with. Let’s start with #1. I really began wrestling with this thought after finishing my first year at Mizzou. The summer prior attending Mizzou was one of the hardest of my life. I was counseling at an adventure camp and was working 24/7 with high school students that I wanted to adopt so they didn’t have to go home after camp. What made this summer particularity hard was the other counselors. I was excluded from the inner group and there were no mentors to help us counselors. It was a summer of constant giving and physical exertion in the 110 degree Branson weather with nothing getting poured back into me. I was changed by that summer. My cup was completely dry, and I was hurt that Christian counselors could be so exclusive.  So, worn and slightly self-conscious, I began my first semester at Mizzou.

As I have shared on this blog before college was nothing like what I expected it to be. Academically, school went well. But every other aspect was miserable. I did not make a single lifelong friend and felt very discouraged every semester I was there. The Christian groups were clicky. Or worse — stagnant. One small group I was a part of my first year was full of girls who did either did not want to be vulnerable or who would refuse to change. It seemed like no one really wanted to seek God. This was completely discouraging. I was not expecting to feel so discouraged or isolated after joining a Christian group.

Like many would guess the non-Christians I met were equally discouraging. I was prepared for brokenness and depravity attending at 35,000 student, secular university. What I was not prepared for was the acceptance of misery — or what I perceived as misery. A girl I knew was sleeping with a guy she really liked, but she knew he did not like her. She knew he was using her, but she didn’t seem to mind. She just accepted it. Others regularly got drunk and high. I had assumed people like this would seem lost — searching for that one thing to make them whole again. And the bright-eyed, Christian counselor I was would be able to pour Jesus into their brokenness and they would stop having sex and doing drugs and they would be happy. But I quickly realized these people were not sitting around pining after something they were missing. They accepted life. And more surprising — they seemed to already be happy. Given, it was school and everyone was miserable, but if these people were broken, they did not know it.

How was I supposed to show Jesus to these people? They would see no need for him. I first needed them to see how miserable they were so they would want a healer. I felt completely unequipped to share the gospel with these people. I had no spiritual leaders to turn to. No christian friends I could talk to or have pray over me. I confess, I did not pray for these people as much as I should have, but I felt completely lost during this time. I still firmly believed that following Jesus was the only right way to live at this point in my life, but I had no idea how to show that.

So while I was at Mizzou I was left alone. I did not want to go out to bars with my non-Christian friends, but when I went out with the Christians — if I was even invited — I felt even lonelier than if I would have just stayed home. I found no one who was willing to be vulnerable. No one who wanted to know me or share themselves. No one who really wanted God to transform them. No one who was willing to take the new girl under their wing. No one who wanted to grow. I am sure true Christians who were seeking God exist at Mizzou, but I did not experience them. I became very reclusive. I stayed in my dorm room most of the time I was not in class. I studied in my room alone. Watched Netflix in my room alone. Read in my room alone. And oftentimes, ate in my room alone. I knew I needed to make friends, and I did try. I really tried. I went out when I could muster the energy. I would introduce myself. I would meet people. I would make small talk as my mind was trying to determine what time I could leave without seeming weird. In the year I was a part of one Christian group no one asked how I was doing or if they could pray for me.

I tried turning to my very close friends I had made in my hometown, but everyone seemed too busy. They had moved on to other colleges or other relationships or other people who needed more help. I had gone to Mizzou determined to help people and found myself in a position of desperately needing help. And no one was there. No one even noticed. I became very depressed. I just wanted someone to realize how hurt I was. I would pray and pray for God to give me one friend. Just one friend who could listen and be with me. Just one who I could laugh with and grow with. A few times I thought he had answered me, but every time I was wrong.

By the end of my second semester, I felt like a shell. I had lost a vibrance I once had. I had always thought of myself as the helper not the one who needed help. A normal person might just go to their parents or close childhood friends and say, “I’m completely lost and broken and I need you to pray for me and be there for me because I am so alone.” But I have been afraid of being needy my whole life. I have tried so hard not to be emotional. I didn’t want to be one of those girls who plays the victim or who tries to get attention with sob stories. So my cries for help were small and barley noticeable. I wanted someone to deduce how empty I felt. Someone through divine intervention to know just the words to say to make be feel better or make me open up. This did not happen.

I was so empty I lost all hope the second semester. I always went to class because that’s just the kind of person I am, but some days I would not leave my dorm for anything else — no even to eat. Some days I would walk through the food courts and choose not to eat. People have thought that I was anorexic before just because of how skinny I am. Of course I’m not. I have never had poor body image. My choice not to eat had nothing to do with how I looked. It had everything to do with how I felt. I thought maybe someone would finally see something was not right. But no one did. I would hint that I wasn’t eating to friends, but they never noticed the subtleties as pleas for help. This “not eating” phase did not last long because I have a logical brain, and I knew how stupid it was. Also I love food. But the point remains — I was not doing okay.

It sounds like I had given up on God at this point, but I hadn’t. I was reading my Bible more than I ever had. I was pleading with God a regular basis. I was recording three blessings every day. I was writing and rewriting the promises of God over and over. I still felt alone and ignored by God. I felt like God had taken every good thing from me. From community to even my personality. I still believed that he was good. He had shown me that my first summer at camp. And this is when the thought entered my mind: I could give God everything, serve him with everything I have, and I could always be left empty. I thought of all the people who had died for Christ. I thought of Job (yes I’ve read the end, but I was focusing more at the beginning). I thought of how much I wanted community. How much I wanted to have a family one day. How much I wanted to be a stay at home mom. Or How much I wanted to travel. And I realized God could decide to never give those things to me just so that He would have to be enough.

I went back to camp that summer. I was completely empty, but after reading 2 Corinthians I felt compelled to go. It was a good summer full of good people, and I had a mentor I looked up to. That summer at camp changed my life again, and this time by one sentence that has perturbed me ever since.