Turning the page…
My Baccalaureate speech…from the depth of God’s lessons to me.
Hi friends! I was so honored to give this speech at Messiah College’s Baccalaureate service on May 16, 2008. I’ve posted it in order to appease those of you who wanted your very own copy of the speech, but also, to give a glimpse into my heart as I’ve been processing the end and the beginning of so much.
I hold a brand-new journal and stare towards the Breeches, watching the gray mist rise from the water. The sun strikes through the clouds and, in an instant, the creek is transformed…from shifting layers of gray to a crisp picture of a young spring morning. I glance down at my hands. The terrifying grayness of the yet-to-be-filled pages of this journal overwhelms me. Lately, my travels past the creek have been sprinkled with tears and a terrifying sense of inevitable change. I grieve the ending of a four-year chapter, sprinkled with good and bad, hope and challenge. Unknown pages of my life loom before me and I tremble in full realization that I am not in control of the future. But…A hand stronger and wiser and more constant than mine writes my story.
Last semester, I tried to explain my story in 1000 words or less. It didn’t work. An effort go to graduate school through the Rhodes or Marshall scholarships led to seven drafts of a personal statement that chiseled my life story down to two pages, single-spaced. Submitted with a resume and too many letters of recommendation, my identity appeared flat and lifeless. As the rejection letters rolled in, my story appeared to be unacceptable. As the main character in a less-than-appealing story, I started to doubt my sovereignty as the Author. St. Iren-nay-us, a 2nd century Church leader, said, “The glory of God is man fully alive.” The glory of God isn’t you and me having remarkable and competitive stories. The glory of God is you and me, living His story for our lives with dedicated abandon and reckless trust. In the midst of applications and identity crises, I forgot that as the main character in my story, I am not the one writing the future pages in my journal. Yet as we seek to discover again and again who we really are, we must lose our conceptualizations of identity and imbed our understandings of ourselves in the heart of the Author.
Other characters, no less important, are influencing our lives forever. Our transformative interactions with one other have comforted, stretched, blessed, hurt, and healed one other. Through deep friendships and consistent mentoring, we remind each other that, regardless of how many times we make the same mistakes, we cannot be so proud as to think we have the power to irreparably blemish our stories. Through our peer groups, roommates, and surprising friendships that change the way we see the world, we’ve caught a glimpse of God’s glory in each other. The brilliance of people as supporting characters in our lives is remarkable. Author Mike Mason described it well: “There’s a brightness of the human face that is almost too bright for human eyes. It seems we can look at each other only so long before we must turn away. If we could really see what is right in front of our eyes, we’d see the invisible – the remarkable, the spectacular, the miraculous – too.” If we believe that God really is the divine Author of our stories, seeing the past, present, and future in one sweeping glance, we start to see each other as significant…mirror images of our Author.
The stories of the last four years have been full of life—the beautiful, the heartbreaking, the mundane, and the memorable. I have now lived long enough to turn around and see God’s handwriting in the chapters of my life. I have realized that it’s the hurts, conflicts, struggles, and changes that make our stories beautiful. Even the wildest side-notes of our lives are found to be intricately connected, forming plots that glisten with the glory of God. It is through the transformative power and incredible faithfulness of the “author and perfector of our faith” that the past pages of our stories hold together and…might just make some sense.
The past is full of moments—some full of childlike happiness, tinted by spring air and sunshine, and others heavy with burdens of a grown-up world. But when I see the fingerprints of the author of my story covering the good and the bad, then I am content in the present and excited about the future. For this moment, the future is no longer a monster, change is not to be feared, and turning the page is the most exciting thing yet.
Don’t get me wrong – the gray unknown continues and fear grips me more often than not. But a hope fills my heart and I know there’s more than what I see to my story. Our stories are written by really good author. On a recent trip home, my father, who has watched two other daughters graduate from Messiah College , tenderly admonished, “Amanda. The chapter is ending. It’s time to turn the page.” Remember the Author of your story, and go, turn the page.
