I’m not much of a talker.
The scared part of me would rather stay home and read a book than go out and party. Even though I’ve changed a lot over the past few years, that’s one thing that hasn’t. But every now and then, I get this feeling that I’m not doing enough. And although I know my worth in Christ, I still wonder why I wasn’t made to be a preacher or evangelist. You know, someone who could actually make a difference.
I’ve grown up in Adventist education, and if I’ve learned anything, it’s that they love to push you to your limits, in the best way. My freshman year, I joined the marketing team in Campus Ministries. I was so excited to make a difference, all behind a phone screen. The next year, to my surprise, I was asked to lead the chapel team—the team that went up front the most, talked the most, planned the most, and worked the most.
Okay God, I get it.
That first year was all kinds of frustrating, but I pushed through with the power of prayer (and lots of caffeine). As a junior, a second-year leader, and a growing Christian, I should’ve felt accomplished. I’d faced my fears and taken center stage. But that feeling crept back in again.
Bella, you’re not doing enough. Look at everyone else, preaching and teaching. What could you possibly have to offer?
It felt like a never-ending spiral of self-doubt. The devil was pushing all the right buttons, creating weaknesses that didn’t even exist.
I fought hard against it—trying new chapel themes, planning creative activities—but hope started slipping away. People didn’t seem engaged, and I felt like they only participated because they had to. Then, in the most unexpected way, everything changed.
A few weeks ago, a group of us visited The Lexington, an assisted living center nearby. I’ve always loved those visits. It’s peaceful to play bingo or crochet while hearing people’s stories. But this time was different. After about an hour talking with a woman named Mary, a friend pulled me aside. One of the residents had received a card from someone at CVA and wanted to find out who sent it. So, of course, I went to see if I knew.
I tapped the woman on the shoulder, something freshman me never would’ve done. I asked about the card, explaining I might know who it came from. Her face instantly lit up. She reached for her bag, and I expected to see a store-bought card or a printed note. Instead, she pulled out a neatly folded, handmade card. It had a heart on the front, a letter inside, and Bible verses on the back.
But it didn’t stop there. She pulled out a wooden wall mount with one of the verses from the card engraved on the front. She told me it was her favorite verse, and that she felt like the Holy Spirit had sent her that card for a reason. That’s when I realized where I’d seen it before.
A few weeks earlier, I had organized a chapel activity where students made handmade cards for residents at The Lexington. It was a last-ditch effort to keep people interested, and I honestly thought it hadn’t gone well. Now here I was, with this amazing woman who broke into tears as I told her how she got the card, all because I had done what I could to serve God in my own way.
That’s the power of Adventist education. It pushes you to your limits so that you can find the path and plan God has for you. It’s not always about preaching or performing miracles. Sometimes, it’s about making a single handmade card that ends up exactly where it needs to be. It doesn’t need to be big, evangelical or miraculous. It just has to be yours.
Bella Becker is a junior at College View Academy in Lincoln, Nebraska.
