I wish that I could say that I am just your average young woman. A normal college student, participating in the activities that most people would expect college students to practice. But I am not. I should probably be more careful about how often I drop the word wish around, because the reality is, I’m not like everybody else. I am not your average 21-year-old american girl. And the truth is, I don’t want to be.
Who am I then, you might ask? I am an adventure seeker (when the scene is laid right), a hard worker, a masterful procrastinator (I know, a bit of an oxymoron), an amateur runner, aspiring fitness junkie, food lover and vegetarian (I love my critter friends), a history buff, somewhat of a walking encyclopedia, a friend, a daughter, a sister, a coffee lover and former barista, and a lover of travel. I have a stone-solid heart for justice and a strong compassionate spirit. All of these things describe me. Not define me, but describe me. They are a key to unlocking bits and pieces of who I am. But there is one thing that I have not listed here. It is the precursor to all of the things that I am, and the note of my life were it a musical symphony. It complete encompasses me, enraptures me, permeates me, and defines me.
I am a Christian.
Now I know, we’ve all had our various experiences with Christians and Christianity, with religion, and all that glamorous (or un-glamorous) stuff. But I want to stop you right now – STOP! – from allowing yourself to place any labels, any titles, any stereotypes or pre-conceived notions, any pain, or whatever it is that comes to your mind when you think about or here the word C-H-R-I-S-T-I-A-N. Just for a little bit. Because there are some things I want to share.