I might

I believe my mother’s comment followed one of my many wildly inappropriate jokes.

“If you go to seminary, you should probably tone yourself down a little bit.”  

“What do you mean, mom?”

“Well, you used to be a little more mainstream.  I think college has made you a tad more ‘out there’ than before.”

“I know plenty of weirdos who go to seminary.  In fact, I know plenty of weirdos who don’t.  I’m weird, and I love Jesus.  I think I’m kind of endearing.”

Dad chimed in with: “Yes, yes you are endearing.”  

I watched his eyes twinkle in the rearview mirror as he looked at mom.  I know Mike truly does find me endearing, but I think he said it mostly to induce a reaction from mom.  A deep silence ensued until mom broke it by discussing lunch options.

I shocked them about two weeks ago when I told them I was considering seminary.  My empathy extended their direction; God shocked me in a similar manner when He placed the idea in front of me.  I don’t feel called by any means to be a pastor; I want to marry my passion for ministry with my creative gifts.  And somehow, He led me here…to this discussion with my parents. The discussion solicited countless curiosities:

“Does serving God cost a lot?”

“Shouldn’t you work for awhile first?”

“What if you get married?”

“Can’t you go later in life?”

“What about your art?”

“Can’t you work in a gallery?”

“Where is this coming from?”

If you’re reading this and you know me well, you know that I have a continual compulsion to run away.  When I say that, I do not aim to hurt the people who love me; I just always feel like starting new.  I often want to abandon familiarity and flee from responsibility, yet I've been thrown into an extremely blessed life.  Charmed, even.  For the most part, I’ve lived a life full of abundance, love, and whimsy.  However, that inner runner remains. So, I did what any girl in the 21st century would do:

I googled it.  

Apparently, the desire to run is related to fear…the fear of investing; the fear of pain; the fear of failure.  
This explains why my major has changed more than once. 
 It explains why I often substitute comedy for sincerity.  
It’s why I rarely date, or why I change friend circles frequently.  
It’s why I quit things that I’ve started, break promises I’ve made, talk when I should listen, or act selfishly despite the needs of others. 
I like my summers living alone at the lake house because I don’t terrify myself. 

It’s the only time I don’t feel like running away.

My grandmother is currently dying of lymph cancer.  She is also an artist and one of the primary reasons why I paint.  As time merges forward and I watch her become less and less of what she once was, I feel like pieces of me are slipping away.  Yet in these precious moments, sweeter than ever before, I see the many ways that her and I are one.  I saw her last week and told her what I often refrain from telling people.  I told her what I didn’t tell my parents because I wanted to seem prepared.  I told her what I am often too proud to tell my friends.  

I told her that I am afraid.  

I told her that I am afraid I will fail.  I told her that I’m afraid God won’t come through and use me for good.  I told her that I don’t know how to believe in myself when the odds seem against me.  I told her I am afraid of debt.  I told her I am afraid of not getting married.  I told her I am afraid the world will hate my paintings.  I told her I’m scared of not knowing why I feel pulled toward seminary.  

Then, I told her I am afraid of what the world will be like when she leaves it.

Through tears, she held me and said, “Erin, If you can fearlessly love anyone in your lifetime as much as I’ve loved you, you will have really loved.”

I am afraid to love fearlessly.

And I am sorry.

I am sharing this stream of consciousness to apologize.  I want to tell the people I love that I have often let my fears conflict with loving you well.  I haven’t been able to exhibit Christ when I try to live in fear.  I want to love people like my grandmother has loved me- full of passion, support, encouragement, and wisdom; I want to love like Jesus.  And that’s why I might go to seminary. 

My favorite of my parents’ questions was the first one I mentioned: 

“Does serving God cost a lot?”

Yes.  
Everything, in fact.

But  by not being afraid of the sacrifices that come with that cost, I think I’ll be able to love people best.  I can love people how God intended for me to in this life; I hopefully can love them more like He does. I don’t know what I will end up choosing, or where this will take me if I go.  

But for the first time in my life, I don’t feel like running.  

Each of my parents’ questions were asked with love and concern regarding my best interest.  They offered differing opinions from my own, but were willing to discuss options and bless my decision.

They trust and believe in me to bear good fruit.  

They trust and believe in me in the same way that I should trust and believe in God.

Thank you.

And mom if you are reading this, I’ll try to tone it down a little bit.