Last Saturday, I walked across a stage, was handed a piece of paper, and took some pictures with family and friends after moving a tassel to the left side my awkward-looking cap. The graduation march has been stuck in my head ever since which seems like a form of cruel and unusual punishment. It’s been a bitter-sweet sort of time.

This past week, though, has felt like a gift in the midst of a pile of mess. I’ve been given the chance to reflect, to think about the past three years and marvel at the growth and change. I sat in a coffee shop with a dear friend and mentor on Thursday as she asked me to name specific meaningful or spiritual moments that happened during these Taylor years. In that moment, a million snapshots came to my mind because these years have been one giant beautiful mess of a gift and saying goodbye has been more difficult than I would have imagined. So this week I’ve found myself remembering and writing and reflecting. And also thanking because it seems like an army of people helped me walk across that stage.

And in the midst of this “looking back,” I’m looking forward. It’s a strange combination, and it’s making my brain a little tired. On Friday I head out on a new adventure. I’m not nervous yet, and that makes me sort of nervous. In fact, I’m finding that with each box I repack, each shirt I fold, my heart races with anticipation. This adventure is unlike anything I’ve done before, but it’s also as common to college students as 8 am classes. This summer I will be joining about 15 other interns at HOPE International in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Officially, my title is “Executive Intern to the President of HOPE.” I’m not going to act like I understand what this really means, but I know it will include some kind of writing and lots of big picture planning.

All I really know is that it’s been a wild ride getting here, and that seems to be the theme in all of this. As I look back at these Taylor years, I see the wild fingerprints of God, the way everything seemed so chaotic but in reality, God was orchestrating things that I couldn’t see. And as I look back at my journey to HOPE, it already seems a bit wild, a story that only can be written by God and one that I am confident he will continue to write.

But for now, I find myself thankful for the journey, the steps he has walked with me, the faithfulness he has shown. And I have to believe that just as he has orchestrated the seemingly impossible in the past, he will continue to do so in the future. So I will continue to look back and look forward and pack another box.

Here’s to today, the journey it’s been and the gift it will bring tomorrow.

The post Looking Back, Looking Forward appeared first on Kate Berkey.

Have I prayed about it?

You better believe it.

Have I sought “God’s will?”

Sure. Whatever that really means.

Where do I feel God calling me?

Toward a passion, not a business or a town.

I understand why people ask me about my plans, and if I wasn’t facing some decision deadlines, their question probably wouldn’t bug me all that much. But here I am, making decisions, all the while wondering what God’s will is. While we’re on the subject, let’s talk about God’s will, that magical concept no one seems to understand. I’m not about to claim that I fully understand it. I think I’ve misunderstood it for 21 years. And I’m realizing that my faulty thinking has me in a hole, and I’m the one holding the shovel.

Here’s what I know.

God’s will is that I love Him and love others, that above all else, I seek Him and His kingdom. Sounds beautiful, right? If I saw those words in a job description, I would be a fool to let that opportunity pass by. Unfortunately, God’s will comes in all shapes and sizes. People tried to teach me this throughout the years. But being a “let’s make a plan, write a list, and start working” kind of person,  the magical view of God’s will always enticed me. Wouldn’t it be nice if he had a specific road mapped out for me, and I could just follow it step by step? Oh, and while I’m dreaming, wouldn’t it be nice if God told me everything ahead of time?

Ah, the beautiful trap. As much as I might ask for it, I don’t want it.

This past week I read Just Do Something by Kevin DeYoung, and I found myself overwhelmed by God’s love, another topic that is often misunderstood in my life. I don’t remember what the book was talking about exactly, but it had something to do with God actually speaking to his kids. It said something like, “Sometimes God speaks and sometimes he doesn’t. But he still wants us to make decisions.” And then reality hit me like swan dive that turns into a belly flop. Could it be that sometimes God doesn’t talk to us or provide specific direction about a decision because our options are great, and he expresses his love by giving us the freedom to choose?

Some theologian somewhere can clean up that question or scratch it altogether. I’m not saying that we shouldn’t weigh our decisions against scripture or that we shouldn’t pray about them. Obviously, wisdom has its place in discerning which decision is best. But if there’s one thing I’ve found in love it’s that few people feel loved when their lives and their decisions are being controlled or manipulated. Could it be that this freedom to choose is a manifestation of God’s love?

I’m currently in a situation where I get to choose between a couple of options. Each have their pros and cons. Neither is perfect, and I feel little direction from God. Understanding more about God’s will and his love for me doesn’t make the decision easier. It just makes it freer. And in the midst of it, I feel God’s love so strongly. This is a gift, to feel God’s love, His presence. And it’s a gift to recognize faulty mindsets, like the belief that God has this one super-specific road for my life, and if I miss it, I might as well give up.

So I don’t know what decision I will make. But I do know God’s will for my life: that I love Him and others, that I seek Him and His kingdom.

And sometimes He gives his kids the freedom to choose because He is a God of love.

The post The Misunderstood Will of God appeared first on Kate Berkey.

I’m trying to wake up each morning with this at the front of my mind. That might sound depressing, waking up remembering that my time at Taylor is slowly coming to a close. But I’m trying not to think of it in a depressing way. Sure those goodbyes will be tough. I don’t enjoy thinking about the weeks following, either. I will need to find a job because banks tend to get upset if you don’t pay your loan payment each month.

I wake up with this number on my mind because I don’t want to reach May 23, 2015 and wonder where the time went. When did January become March? When did March become May? When did my first day of freshman classes become my final day of senior classes? Why did I not pay attention to the calendar? Why did I wish for the semester to go by faster?

Echoing in my mind is the simple verse in Ephesians. “Make the most of every opportunity.” In a time where my focus is less on classes, less on the people I’m around and more on what’s to come at the end of May, I’m finding that it is easy to skim the moments I’m in. Seconds pass, minutes pass, hours pass. I’m always looking to what’s ahead.

But I am here. I will never be with these people, at this university, in these moments ever again.

128 days.

That’s not that many. I have 128 marbles in my jar labeled: Undergraduate Education: Taylor University. Each day, a marble will be taken out and added to the pile of yesterdays, the pile of memories that I’ll talk about over coffee with friends. And so I’ve decided to document these days, to buy a jar and some marbles. I’ve decided to take out a marble a day, a tangible reminder that these days are coming to a close.

And that’s what this is: a reminder. A reminder to make the most of each day, each moment. A reminder to celebrate, to engage in the lives of those around me. A reminder to thank those who have invested in me. A reminder to take more pictures. A reminder to take less pictures.

Because I’m human, and I need reminders. I need marble jars. I need to remember that these days, although some might seem like torture, are numbered. Because I’m tired of reaching the end of something and wondering where the time went. I’m tired of wishing I would have realized how little time I had in those moments.

And because I don’t want to miss these days.

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