Chosen and Desperate

Back and forth, and in countless other ways, lasting from 9 to 1am, the main debate started along the lines of this:

['Promise us you will get a degree from an accredited school; I promised your dad I would see to it that you earn a degree from an accredited school'
'That is my plan but if God pulls me out of state-whether it is to transfer, to be a missionary or to go to a Bible school, that is something I will pursue full-heartedly.'
'You need to take a little more responsibility, God cannot make the decisions for you.']

Before coming to Tampa I asked for prayer, and indeed I prayed myself, for the opportunity to be a light and to soften hearts. No doubt God has faithfully responded to our prayers and provided me with quite the opportunity. Faithfully-too faithfully?- tonight, God directed my conversation with my uncle, my aunt and my stepmom towards Him. Yet why am I so heartbroken and not overflowing with peace?
Why?...gay marriage, One way, surrendering your life to Jesus, communicating with God, the validity of the Bible, making life changing decisions according to God's will (Miles McPherson's wildest dream of a spiritual debate)...is why.

But is this not exactly what I asked God for? The final straw of our conversation was my bursting into tears and running into the bathroom-only then did my uncle and my aunt call it a night. Soon there after my stepmom paid me a visit with an apology and questions, yet left my room having unleashed the wrath of her hurt from our conflicting beliefs.

Perhaps it is not in God's agenda for me to be the one feeling accomplished and satisfied. Perhaps in professing my faith I will never feel as though I said enough or said it "right." Where do you draw the line between boldly letting out all you believe, and smiling and nodding in an attempt to "protect" comfort, your sanity, your relationships...or the night? Do I ever need to draw the line or does trusting God mean there is no line in caring about how people will take it?

Or maybe more so than softening their hearts, God was trying to humble me. Perhaps I am not called to participate in those types of conversations-I am not "a Miles." I cannot do that-ouch.

But soothing.

The most pivotal part of the night was right before I let my waterworks loose-the moment when I finally realized, 'this conversation is now far beyond me.' Absolutely desperate, I knew I needed prayer-nothing could save me but prayer. Mid-sentence, I looked down at my phone and texted my pledge sisters an ambiguous request to 'please pray for me.'

I would love to say something miraculous happened and I gathered strength and they all got saved-but alas...no. Yes, at one point I gathered myself and the hostile accusations turned into innocent questions, but that didn't seem to last long enough; it was as if the prayers "wore out" like the invincible stars wearing off of Luigi in the old school Super Mario Brother's game. I wanted to text them again-'No really, keep praying.' Instead the direction of the conversation spiraled back down until I just couldn't handle it anymore.

I know more is to come but thus far, I can walk away learning truly who does the saving. I cannot teach faith nor can I even relate it; I fail miserably in trying to explain my own and am far from elegant in answering basic questions. If someone is to love Christ, God's hand must be in it because efforts of a follower alone to save is impossible. How can it be so easy for me to love and pursue God yet so foreign and insane for another?

Tonight: a whole new perspective of a narrow path.