This year, I turn 24. Achingly close to the culturally-acclaimed pinnacle of my life and looks.
What am I doing with my one wild and adventurous life?
I am learning to be married, praying for healthy children soon, and working 40 hours a week loving on the toddlers of other 20-somethings who make more money than I do.
I am not ashamed of my job; on most days, I enjoy it--but when I compare my journey with the journeys of others I know, my heart grows dark. My best friend Lindsay (who always will be cooler than me) works in South Korea, living her dream, romping with crazy awesome new friends and soaking in a foreign culture. Another bestie, Elizabeth, spent all of 2011 on the World Race, loving on hundreds of kids, romping with crazy awesome people, eating bugs, speaking truth to the hopeless, and soaking in a dozen foreign cultures. My husband is spending his hours studying to become a doctor, so he can love on people and save their lives for the rest of his life.
I blog, but only for my own enjoyment: I know I'm not a fantastic story teller, or any sort of photographer at all. What this means is that, to the world, and to hip cultural Christianity, I am boring. My mundane life wouldn't bother me if the internet weren't full of Christians just as caught up in wanderlust as our culture: this desire to go, be, to live an orgy of experiences and adventures and then settle down to a plaid-wearing spouse and write best-selling books about how you met God in Cambodia.
But, reader, I can't believe that Jesus calls me away from the life I am now living. I have never felt a call to overseas missions; my personality and talents are much better suited for one-on-one relationships in a small community. I don't want, or feel the tug on my soul, to learn another language and move to a jungle. And, reader, I don't believe this negates God's call and purpose for my life.
Andrew Byers, in his excellent article "We Need Boring Christians," (go read it) reminds us that "Radical discipleship is not adventure tourism." Jesus, by changing my heart and calling me to himself in forgiveness, has already called me to a radical life. But my radical life right now doesn't look radical. But, reader, I am free in Christ to live a mundane life where He has placed me and my family. I am free to work, to help my husband pay the bills as he studies all day to pass his medical boards. I am free to be a servant to people I don't know, and to their children -- many of them Muslims. I am free to follow and strive to be like Jesus in the small way He has called me to in this season. I am free to trust and struggle on the dark days.
I hope this monotony of daily living and trusting is never shameful to me.