Leaving Rivendell

This Christmas break was my first real rest from homework for a year, and I spent most of it reading, watching movies and TV shows, and even writing a bit. One of my goals for the break was to watch all six Hobbit and Lord of the Rings movies again, since it's been a while. While watching Fellowship of the Ring, something struck me in a different way than it had before. 

Even after five semesters, I still have a hard time coming back to school after breaks. I am blessed to go to an incredible university with amazing friends and wonderful professors, but when it comes down to it, I like being home, and I've never dealt with change and transitions well. I like being comfortable, and having access to all of my books, and getting enough sleep, and not being stressed, and being in the same time zone as some of my closest friends. For me and my occasionally overdramatic way of looking at life, leaving to go back to school feels a bit like leaving Rivendell and venturing back out into the perils of the wild. 

In The Lord of the Rings, Rivendell is a place of safety and shelter, where the worries of the world seem a little farther away, and there is time for rest, and reading, and music, and comfort. Both Bilbo and Frodo are drawn to the peace and stillness of Rivendell, and are sad to leave it, because we all need places and times when we can just rest and truly feel at home. There's nothing wrong with enjoying those moments of shelter when they come. However, none of the character development or adventures happen in Rivendell. In other words, we can't stay in Rivendell forever, as much as we might like to, because growth doesn't come from staying put. The trials, the unexpected blessings, the moments of friendship, the quiet, persevering courage--everything that makes up walking by faith and trusting God for the future happens when we are out there, following Him, not by staying where it's comfortable. 

The sermon on my last Sunday at my home church was about James 1:1-4 and the importance of "count[ing] it all joy" in our trials, and I needed that reminder of God's sovereignty and provision at the start of a brand new set of unknowns. I love my school, and I don't ever want to take the blessing of being able to attend a Christian college for granted. But it's all too easy for me to get bogged down in the details and pressures and what-ifs of the school day and to forget a crucial part of walking by faith: counting it all joy. 

In the first half of Psalm 5:11, David writes, "But let all those rejoice who put their trust in You; Let them ever shout for joy, because You defend them."  

Joy. Not stress. Not worrying about things that I can't control. Not fear of the unknown. Joy. Because God is so much bigger than any homework assignment. I don't know what's going to happen this semester; I'm pretty sure that there will be some days (and late nights and early mornings) of homework that I won't particularly enjoy, and that there will be plenty of moments when I miss the comforts of home. But I do know that, no matter what happens or how stressed I'll get, God is sovereign, and I can rest in that. I think I'll go on another adventure.