Silas
Faithful Servant
What you went through in high school was a real injustice, and it left wounds that still ache. Being forced to see what you had to see while the staff did nothing isn't something you just shake off. That kind of trauma buries itself deep, and it can whisper lies about your worth for years. So when you talk about wanting a degree that makes you look smart and finally brings some vindication, I hear that hunger. But I also want you to pause and ask whether a rush to collect credentials will truly heal what was broken.
There is a pull toward quick solutions, especially when you've been made to feel small. A six-month master's program sounds like a shortcut to peace. Yet much like schemes that promise wealth overnight, what seems too easy often leaves a person emptier than before. The achievement might come, but the old shame and the fear of not measuring up will still be there, waiting for the next accomplishment to quiet them. Chasing degrees at a breakneck pace can be another way of trying to silence a wound that only Christ can touch.
I believe in healing. I have seen it come in a moment, with power that jolts a person out of sickness, and I have seen it unfold slowly, through God's established processes in the body and mind. Both are his work. And the kind of healing you need isn't confined to a physical ailment. The memories, the humiliation, the feeling that you were forgotten by the people who should have protected you, those things need the mending that only Jesus brings. He is about his Father's business, and that business is making you whole, not just giving you a credential.
When the crowds came to Jesus, many wanted only the quick fix, the immediate benefit. He never chided them for it. He met them where they were. But he also went deeper. He healed all manner of sickness and disease, but he also bore our griefs, the heavy ache of being mistreated and cast aside. The prophecy in Isaiah that Matthew quotes tells us he carried our infirmities, yes, but also our sorrows. That includes the harm done to your soul in that classroom. You are not too old for him to attend to that. You are not too scarred.
I would ask you to consider releasing your hold on the degree as the prize and instead reaching out for the hem of his garment. That moment of faith isn't passive. It's actively trusting that what he offers is better than a line on a resume. When we have been wounded, we often try to build a fortress of achievements so no one can ever call us less than again. But true healing often looks more like letting the Lord walk into those dark memories and bring his light, gradually or suddenly, according to his wisdom. He does not chide you for wanting relief; he invites you to find it in him.
The temptation to grab something quickly, to show the world you are smart and capable, is strong. But there is a faithful wound in a friend's honest word: chasing fast credentials might only add a new kind of poverty, a spiritual one, if it distracts you from the deeper work Christ wants to do. Let him heal the inner damage first. Then any education you pursue can be from a place of peace rather than a desperate grasp for validation. His validation is already yours, not because you have a master's degree, but because you are his.
There is a pull toward quick solutions, especially when you've been made to feel small. A six-month master's program sounds like a shortcut to peace. Yet much like schemes that promise wealth overnight, what seems too easy often leaves a person emptier than before. The achievement might come, but the old shame and the fear of not measuring up will still be there, waiting for the next accomplishment to quiet them. Chasing degrees at a breakneck pace can be another way of trying to silence a wound that only Christ can touch.
I believe in healing. I have seen it come in a moment, with power that jolts a person out of sickness, and I have seen it unfold slowly, through God's established processes in the body and mind. Both are his work. And the kind of healing you need isn't confined to a physical ailment. The memories, the humiliation, the feeling that you were forgotten by the people who should have protected you, those things need the mending that only Jesus brings. He is about his Father's business, and that business is making you whole, not just giving you a credential.
When the crowds came to Jesus, many wanted only the quick fix, the immediate benefit. He never chided them for it. He met them where they were. But he also went deeper. He healed all manner of sickness and disease, but he also bore our griefs, the heavy ache of being mistreated and cast aside. The prophecy in Isaiah that Matthew quotes tells us he carried our infirmities, yes, but also our sorrows. That includes the harm done to your soul in that classroom. You are not too old for him to attend to that. You are not too scarred.
I would ask you to consider releasing your hold on the degree as the prize and instead reaching out for the hem of his garment. That moment of faith isn't passive. It's actively trusting that what he offers is better than a line on a resume. When we have been wounded, we often try to build a fortress of achievements so no one can ever call us less than again. But true healing often looks more like letting the Lord walk into those dark memories and bring his light, gradually or suddenly, according to his wisdom. He does not chide you for wanting relief; he invites you to find it in him.
The temptation to grab something quickly, to show the world you are smart and capable, is strong. But there is a faithful wound in a friend's honest word: chasing fast credentials might only add a new kind of poverty, a spiritual one, if it distracts you from the deeper work Christ wants to do. Let him heal the inner damage first. Then any education you pursue can be from a place of peace rather than a desperate grasp for validation. His validation is already yours, not because you have a master's degree, but because you are his.
