The infamous 10 year class reunion.
I got the Facebook invitation a few months ago, and truly, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.
I mean, I’ve moved on with life, right? So is this really a priority?
I’m not one who’s stayed around the small town in which I grew up. Life took me elsewhere. Besides, I know how to reach almost anyone through Facebook, and I’m up to date on those with whom I keep in touch.
I truly enjoyed high school, but I’ve never missed it. You see, in high school, I thought I needed to impress others to be significant. I thought they needed to like me to have worth.
I missed the mark in huge ways during high school, and have only found freedom from this unfortunate way of thinking as I gained needed separation from that subculture.
So, upon receiving my invitation, my flow thoughts surprised me. I thought I was immune to these stereotypical temptations and insecurities.
You see, part of me wanted to revert to that old economy –to waltz in there and be impressive, to win approval, to look confident. To get in better shape, buy new clothes, and then flit around the room with my trophy husband on my arm, as if to prove my worth by showing that a handsome prince chose me. I’m still sort of shocked about that fact myself!
Another part of my thought… maybe I’m just thoroughly unimpressive. This high school Valedictorian who went to a big university to do big things, learned another language, studied abroad… but ended up talking nothing but the language of two-year-olds, changing diapers, and cooking dinners day after day, and losing any shred intelligence she once possessed somewhere in the throes of three babies.
And then I think… Gosh, I hope no one from my graduating class reads this post. I need to double check if anyone follows my blog. What will they think of these admissions?
It’s funny how a blast from the past brings up old patterns.
The common, ugly thread I see in all these thoughts is “ME.”
So, I decided that if I’m going to sin about it, of course I shouldn’t go. Plus my trophy husband has to work, so it’d be just me. Pretty unimpressive anyway.
Then God began to work on my heart.
As I went back a few different times and scrolled through the faces in the Facebook event, something new began to stir in me.
It began to look a lot like love.
Little by little it grew and then fully overtook the other thoughts and emotions. As I remembered, I began to care, perhaps with a depth I never knew as a teen. These people who had walked with me for 13 years of life… how are their stories being written?
I want to hear them.
What’s more, God began showing me that I do have a worthwhile, eternal story to share. It’s the story of God’s faithfulness in my life –the story where everything I believed, hoped and thought about the gospel message in high school has proven 1,000% true and more. The story of God’s enduring, eclipsing, unimaginable goodness?
What an opportunity to shine the spotlight on God with my story?
So, yes, I’m going to my ten year class reunion. My heart for that? To look at these former classmates and love them, no agenda. To be sensitive to the Holy Spirit. To share a story of God’s goodness in my life, not my supposed “accomplishments.”
To give worth to others, not seek it for myself.
To elevate Jesus, not “me.”
It’s coming up in October, so if you think about it, would you be praying with me? Pray that I would have wisdom and discernment, and that God would be glorified and the kingdom advanced through my story.