On a hot day last August, in the midst of the insane death-match of freshman orientation known as Prologus,
the newborn NSA freshman class sat in the uncomfortably warm Nuart Theatre,
our freshman advisor standing on the stage in front of us.
We were utterly terrified.
We had just been given our first assignment of the year,
and the 200 page book we had been told to read for our first lecture the following Tuesday stared at us like a bad omen.
I can almost guarantee that every single freshman, while furiously (but ineffectively) speed-reading was wondering what the heck they had gotten themselves into.
So there we sat, next to people who seemed weird and whom we never thought we'd learn the names of, let alone like.
Our freshman advisor, pacing back and forth on the stage, told us this:
Freshman Year is like a race.
It will be long and hard, and there will be many, many times when you want to give up.
There will be days when you feel like you can't do it any more.
Callings aren't easy to follow.
But if this is your calling,
run the race,
and run it well.
We're now two weeks away from the finish line.
We've been through four terms,
almost four finals weeks,
eight term papers
and more books than we care to count.
Nearing the end of the race,
we can look back on where we've been
and how far we've come,
and laugh and smile (and maybe cry) about everything that's happened.
That stage, the one our advisor stood on when he told us how hard it was going to be?
Each of us has gotten up there 27 separate times
and given stupid, funny, embarrassing, awkward speeches to our classmates,
speeches that turned us from classmates into friends
(sometimes friends that know more about each other than we'd like).
That freshman advisor, who also happens to be our Theology professor?
We know that he raises his eyebrows when he makes a point,
and that he loves cough drops,
and that he sees the love of God in everything,
and that he will throw students out of his office for not knowing
the bibliography format in Turabian.
The funny thing is,
at the beginning of the race,
we had no idea where we were going.
The path ahead of us was dark,
and filled with obstacles that we weren't sure we'd be able to overcome.
Thankfully, as we ran,
the Lord lit our way.
He lit lanterns for us late at night
while we read big books
and struggled through Latin.
In His grace,
He gave us respite,
and downhill slopes,
and time to breathe and appreciate the view.
There's one more slope ahead. Just one. And so much beauty and sweat and joy behind
that I almost want to run it all over again.
Almost.
"Let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus,
the Author & Finisher of our faith."
-Hebrews 12:1-2
