By the time I reached the top of the Sanford hill, I was stomping. The sound of my plastic flip-flops angrily smacking the pavement was a reflection of just how infuriated I was with the world at that moment. I’d just been driven out of my typical silent study spot by a noisy group of girls working on a project. One of my professors had further complicated an assignment I already didn’t understand. I didn’t have to look in a mirror to know that I looked like an old hag, and I know that my horrible facial expression indicated my bad mood to every passing stranger. I was walking fast out of general irritation, and I didn’t let up my pace until I got to the entrance of my building. I punched in my ID number and slammed my hand into the reader, then burst through the door into the hallway. I stomped up the stairs, and finally ended up in my room, at which point I threw my backpack into the floor and sighed as loudly as I could without screaming.
I hadn’t wanted to get up and go to class that morning, and all day long I’d had a bad attitude about everything and toward everything. I didn’t want any more to be expected or demanded of me, and for that reason I didn’t even want to get out of bed. All day long I kept having horrible thoughts that didn’t belong in my head, and I couldn’t get them to go away. I was angry at my professors for all the pressure they’d put on me, angry at myself for not being able to stand it, and angry because no one cared how upset I was. I kept telling myself that I was about one inch away from my breaking point, at which I would’ve broken out into a screaming rage.
As soon as I’d thrown down my backpack, I plopped down on the futon and closed my eyes. That’s when it hit me—the devil had been ruling my day. He had been attacking me all day. All the negative thoughts, all the anger, and all the frustration with everyone around me had come from Satan. In that moment, I don’t know what scared me more—the fact that Satan had successfully attacked me, or the fact that I’d allowed him to. Instead of reading my Bible and praying when I woke up that morning, I begrudgingly rolled out of bed, put some effort into looking good before silently cursing the mirror, drank a cup of coffee and went to a class that I was dreading. I had started my day exactly the way Satan wanted me to, and my mind was a breeding ground for doubt and breakdown all day long.
After that realization, I stopped. I prayed immediately, and then I opened my Bible. I had an interview with a Christian sorority in less than an hour from that time, and I knew that if the devil went with me to that interview, he would undermine all of the peace that God had previously given me about the sorority. So I prayed. I read my favorite verse, Philippians 4:6-7. I got down on my knees in my dorm room and prayed for God to go with me to the interview. I prayed that He’d throw Satan out of my thoughts and replace those thoughts and that anger with peace.
I got up, changed clothes, brushed my teeth, and without any hesitation, walked to my interview. I prayed the whole way, asking God to show me why he’d brought me to this place. I opened the door to the building where the interview would be held, and I said “God, you brought me to this exact place, at this exact time, for some reason. Show me what it is.” I arrived almost twenty minutes early, but they were ready for me. The interview went better than I expected, and I left feeling confident that God had indeed put me there for a reason. I walked back to my dorm, waving at a few people I knew along the way and smiling at a few I didn’t even know. But this time, there was no stomping, no horrible facial expression, and no doubt in my mind… God had brought me here for a big reason, and all I had to do was wait and see what that huge reason would turn out to be.
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