Average

Looking back on my first semester of medical school ... it's crazy to even think about it. All that I have learned and unlearned. It's insane.

Medical school was not what I thought it was going to be. The challenges I thought I would face were not the challenges I actually faced.

One of the biggest struggles this semester was battling "ravenous appetite for honor."

To some extent this is almost a natural by-product of the system. You work so hard to get to medical school. To get in you have to be a perfectionist, obsessive, meticulous. And when you finally clinch that coveted spot, it's like "You are #1! It doesn't get any better than this!"

There were so many days this semester where I battled that desire for honor. It was almost a daily battle. The idea that somehow I had gotten here on my own merit, through my hard work, through my sacrifice. They tell you when you come that you're the best of the best.

But something happens in that transition from undergrad to med school. While you may have been #1 at whatever undergraduate school you went to and you were considered far above average, you get here and everyone is either as smart or smarter than you. You become ... average.

I'm going to be honest, I struggled with this alot this semester. Adjusting to the fact that here, I am ordinary. I have never been looked at as ordinary in my life. I didn't like being ordinary. What happened to all the praise, all the honor? What happened to being one of the best? Now I am ... average.

It has been a difficult adjustment. And it has exposed parts of my heart that I wanted to hide, to pretend didn't exist. Pride is an easy thing to hide. You don't have to walk around with your chest puffed out and a "look at how awesome I am" attitude to be a proud, arrogant person. This semester showed me just how prideful and arrogant I am.

I don't like being average. Ordinary. One of my biggest fears, and it's a fleshly fear, is that I will never do anything of significance. Or that I will be invisible, unremarkable.

And that is wrong. It is wrong for me to fear that. It is sin. But when you are in a system that every day tells you you need to be #1, to be extraordinary, it is hard not to fear being ordinary or average. There's a fear that you won't be recognized for what you've done. It's wrong, but it happens.

There's a drive, a hunger for glory, for honor. And I confess, I have succumbed to that hunger so much this semester.

I have to remind myself almost every hour of every day of why I am here. Of who brought me here. of what He has planned for me, even if I'm not sure what exactly that is. On multiple occasions, Father brought several verses to my mind as I struggled with being average in a world where being average is like a death sentence.

Phi 2:3-4 "Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourself. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others."

Ps. 62:7 "My salvation and honor depend on God; he is my mighty rock, my refuse."

Matt 16: 24-26 "For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it; but whoever loses his life for My sake will find it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?"

I read something the other day that said, "Great lives are never achieved by making greatness a goal ... To live for the greatness of Father is to live a great life."

And that's when it hit me. It's Father's greatness that matters. Not mine. It's His glory that I should be concerned about. Not mine. Everything all around me and in me is screaming for my own glory, my own honor.

But that is not the great life. The great life is one lived fully surrendered to Him, to His work, to His glory, to His honor. He is the one who got me here. He is the one who keeps me here. He is the one who has gifted me with the opportunity to study so I can serve His most precious creation, His people.

I am average. But that's ok. Because the One I serve is NOT average. May He forgive my pride and grant me mercy. I deserve neither His forgiveness nor His mercy. But that is the beauty of His grace. And through His grace this semester, I am learning that it's about Him. Not me.

And finally to quote my Dad, "Lindsay, you are not the center of the universe."

Thank God he's right.