I'm Not Him

I walked on to the campus of Liberty for the first time almost seven years ago.

That truth is something that I cannot quite wrap my head around. It feels like jet streams of people and stories and life has slipped around me while I stay clamped into this season. The person I was when I first saw this city-like campus lit against the night as we flew by on Highway 460 is unrecognizable. I am no longer that 16 year old kid. 

As I look back, here's some of the major ways I know I'm not him:

I am humbled. By no means exhaustively, but still. The person I was when I walked into building 22 on the Hill freshmen year was an overconfident man. My failures were evident, and yet I thought I had so much to offer those around me. I truly thought that my role at LU was one of giving and existing to give an example to those around me. And to be sure, the Lord has given me a lot of joy and encouragement to exude. But how foolish of me to assume that God's plan for that 18 year old was to make a model out of him. To be sure, examples have been made. By my failures more than anything else. I can point to example after example of what not to do as I reflect on these years. And yet, that is not the lesson. The goal of these years has not been for God to tell me how broken I am. Rather, it has been for me to remove the focus from myself and place it on him. He is so much better. I no longer view Luke MacDonald as God's great gift to the world. He makes mistakes. He chooses himself. He sins. He entertains evil. What I offer to the world is the Gospel that has made me clean. The Presence that has stood by me through every failure. The Joy that has lit up every corner of my life. God's lesson for me in my pride has been his Glory, not just my depravity. As you look to view yourself rightly, believer, look to God's beauty, not simply your own shortcomings. Our humility must not stem from self-loathing, but from God-adoring.

I am no longer a cynic. Those of you who grew up with me through my high school years may have never used this word to describe me. But those who met me in those introductory semesters of college met an individual who thought he had the answers. And because I had those answers, no one else's held any weight. I was against any form of worship that didn't satisfy my leanings. I was against any opinion that differed from my specific standard. And to be sure, I am not advocating for faulty doctrine or false worship. What I do advocate for is grace and understanding. For the knowledge that we are fallible creatures and that God's grace goes beyond my conception of it. God has made a wonderful mosaic of a Church. It is unique, it is varied, and to be sure it is imperfect. But Jesus loves his Bride. And I am called to as well. I love this conglomeration of people we call the Church. I want what's best for it. And I do not seek to tear it down at every opportunity. So, my Facebook comments look a little less argumentative. My secondary stances are stated with a little less rigidity. My opinions on worship music are held loosely. And I realize that when I get to heaven, more than likely I will realize I got a few things wrong.

I am experienced. I could have articulated that ministry was difficult way back when, but that difficulty would have been a described concept, not an experienced one. 7 years hence, I have been through the tears. I've sat in the hospital room. I've been awake for the 3am phone call. I've seen that this life God has called me to (more on that later) is not a glamorous one. I've signed up to be responsible for things that I cannot influence and hated by a world that will only ever see me as a bigot. As I look to jump into a full time job in the next year, I count up the cost of that choice. Ministry is difficulty. And yet, I dwell on Ephesians 4. I dwell on the fact that teachers are given to equip the saints for the work of ministry, that the whole body may be built up into its head which is Christ. That doesn't always look beautiful, but it is. As I look on these few years of ministry experience, I know the Lord has much more ahead. And I am sure that I'll look back on this post one day and smile at what I thought was experience in these early years. But here's what I know. God has brought me through every one of these 1,930 days since I first arrived on this campus.

I am called. I've never considered a different profession than ministry. My brain has not considered writing, acting, business, social work, teaching, or any other vocation. However, I don't think my calling was my own until the past year or so. There are certain decisions we make in life out of ease. We do what people tell us we're good at. We follow their narratives. We internalize their critique. Suddenly, "you're gonna be a great pastor one day" is not a compliment, it's a prognosis. And when I realized that, fear was an immediate reaction. Have I been living a self-fulfilling prophecy? Is my vocation the product of other people's suggestion? Do I have a self-concept outside of outside opinion? These questions are daunting to be asking in the waning hours of a Master's Degree, and yet that's where I've found myself. The joy in those questions has been seeing Jesus' equipping. His gentle heart that has pointed me back time and time again to his assurance. When my failure felt too great, he reminded me of his grace. When my knowledge felt too feeble, he reminded me of his Spirit. When my will was in question, his calling was sure. I love the path I am on. I love the people I walk with. I love the Church I am called to shepherd. And I love the Shepherd who does that perfectly. My desire in this life is to know nothing but faithfulness and meekness in the presence of the Lord. God has given me the gift of teaching, of exhortation, and of discernment. It is my joy to use those gifts in service to the Kingdom.

In one month, I look to start my last in-person semester here at LU. Honestly, that fills me with an emotion that I can't process in this moment. This combination of paths and hallways has been home to my greatest realizations in life. The most powerful moves of God. To be sure, my gravest failures as well. That 18 year old became a man on this campus. I look back with tears. Tears of gratitude and joy and sorrow and every other emotion there is all melded together. God is so good, friends. He redeems our failure. He restores our souls. He shepherds our hearts. He gently handles us as we walk in his presence. And I am overjoyed to know that I will walk with him all the days of my life, and I will dwell in his courts forever.