Down Boy! . . . well girl

My freshman year of high school, I made the drum line. Though my appearance was one of 10 year old with long blonde hair I could drum with the rest of them and found myself on the snare line. The snare drum is not the hardest drum to play, or some may say not the most fun, but all would agree it is the most important. The snare line is the backbone of the drum line, which is the backbone of the band. Every drummer on the snare line must be 100% in sync with one each other or all that will be heard is a jumbled mess. So with being apart of such a responsibility came much pride because you legitimately held the band together.

A high school band can be known for some crazy shenanigans. As the only freshman girl on the drum line I was aware I had to let everyone know I was much tougher than I looked, much, much tougher. I had to set the tone with these upper classman guys, that though I may look easy to run over, they could not do so. And thus at my first opportunity I proved myself to be someone you do not mess with. During practice one day, a male upper classman made a somewhat sexual remark aimed at me, I gave him my best Pat Summit stared down then looked at our instructor and asked for permission to hit him. Upon gaining permission I took my drumstick and with the slightest flick of my wrist left a perfectly round bruise on his deltoid muscle. And that bruise stayed for a while as a reminder to never do that again. That was all it took, No one made anymore remarks or took advantage of me.

Now almost 10 years later I shudder at seeing that same spirit within myself. That spirit that says no one will mess with me, and if they do, they will pay. I’m not sure if it’s psychological, from growing up playing sports and being a drummer while having such a petite stature has made me feel like I always have to defend myself. But, lately I have come to find that so many of the things we term ‘psychological’ are only excuses for sin. Take for example the events of yesterday:

I spent yesterday morning shadowing at a family physicians office in town. I actually was allowed to interview patients on my own before the attending came in. I left at lunch to come home and be with my family. Kelvin, my nephew, is in town and I just wanted to roll around in the floor some with him. I also was getting a headache and knew I should probably sleep for a little bit. After a quick nap mom asked me to run some errands for her after my eye doctor’s appointment (since being in med school my eyes have drastically become worse, hazards of studying so much). I was almost finished with the errands when I stopped at a red light and my car died. Not a big deal right? Wrong! 2 weeks ago I took my car in for the exact same problem. The place kept it for a week and a half, charged me an insane amount of money, and told me they couldn’t fix everything but it was safe to drive. The first week and a half of my summer break from medical school I was at home because I couldn’t go anywhere, or see any of the people I missed and wanted to catch up with. Now that I had had my car for a few days I was starting to be able to see people and get things done. And yet there I was stuck on Clinton highway with traffic too thick for me to put it in neutral and push it to the side, which I would have done without help just because I didn’t want help. Pride was raring it’s ugly head and so I sat too mad to do anything, too mad to be concerned that at any moment I could be hit by a car not paying attention.

I was not about to take it back to the same place. They took way too long, and obviously did not fix the problem.  But my dad felt otherwise that we should call the place we took it to before and have them fix it again, because they shouldn’t charge me, or at least it shouldn’t be much. So reluctantly I told the tow truck to take us there, all the while I could feel the fumes beginning to seep out my ears. When we arrived I went to the office where the lady we spoke to on the phone dealt with us rather rudely and would not give me a loaner to use because ‘they already had four cars out’ but maybe they could call hertz for me. I was livid, it was their fault my car was back, and now they want me to pay to rent a car. I wanted to go back outside and ask the tow truck to take me to National where we usually take our cars to get serviced. But I didn’t want to make a scene and so I left riding home with my mom.

Man I was so angry, I don’t know why because it usually takes much more than this to get me so mad. May be it’s because I don’t have the money for a ‘fix’ like they did last time, maybe it’s because I think since they don’t know me they are taking advantage of me? Maybe it’s because I don’t trust them to actually fix my car? Maybe it’s just because I didn’t get my way? I wanted to call back and tell just tell them how wrong they are. I wanted to tell them I am a medical student and they are wasting my time, that I cannot trust them anymore, . . . blah, blah blah, blah blah. (Janie, why can’t you just forgive them?) That still small voice finally broke through. (You, don’t know the whole picture, how can you condemn them?) UGH! . . . wait, you’re right I am being irrational.

All last night I tried, in my own strength, to forgive them and get over it. This is life, and sometimes it sucks. I fell asleep praying that God would help me forgive, yet when I woke up this morning to a dream of me yelling at the lady I talked to yesterday, I realized I needed some seriously self reflection. Here I was 9 years after the incident with the drum line, behaving the exact same way.

This morning I realize that though my stature may have a little bit to do with it, my problem is pride. I feel and have felt entitled, and that is a very dangerous thing! I knew going to medical school would make my battle with pride a million times more difficult, and actually it’s one of the reasons I so struggled with God about going in the first place. Med school consumes you, it’s all you do, think, eat and sleep, literally! It easily becomes your identity. And you want everyone to know that, because you have worked harder than they could imagine to have that title. You feel as though you deserve a certain amount of respect from people. Wow, what could be more disgusting? Anyone who reads this blog should know by now that it is ONLY by the GRACE of GOD I am what I am! I didn’t want med school, but He changed my heart, and there is NO WAY in the world I could have passed all those classes on my own! Nothing has been more evident to me this past year than the promises that He will never leave nor forsake me and that His strength is made perfect in weakness! So who am I to feel entitled to anything?

I need to be reminded that frankly I deserve death and eternal separation from God. That is what I deserve, because I am a sinner and a pretty good one at that! And also, my identity is not in medical school. Yes, it is all I have breathed the past year, but my identity is in Christ and med school doesn’t change that! And even in little things like my car, God is completely sovereign and will take care of my needs. If these people have wronged me, He will deal with them, not me. But it is not my job to judge their guilt or innocence.

I know this is probably my longest blog yet, but my challenge is to us all, especially myself. These are the situations where Christ shines through. Will we act out of flesh and pride so people know not to mess with us, or will we step back and show the grace of God that has been so lavished upon us?