In high school, college seemed a long way off to me. Looking back, I can see that I should have started thinking about it earlier, but I was busy with other activities like soccer and youth group. I figured I would cross that bridge when I came to it.

As a result, my parents started thinking about college before I did. My mom had been on the campus of a school a couple of times and must have mentioned it to me a million times. She dropped so many subtle (and not-so-subtle) hints that I started to get tired of hearing them. I didn't know enough about the school to be completely convinced it was where I wanted to go. Besides, college was my first chance to really step out on my own. I wanted the decision about where I went to be mine—not my parents'.

But then, in the summer before my senior year, my parents and I took a trip and visited several schools around the country. Most of the places we went were small Christian colleges. Mom and Dad persuaded me to at least give this school a chance, so we made it one of the stops on our tour.

To my surprise and my parents' delight, I loved the place. Everything about it seemed perfect: The tour guide was friendly and helpful, the campus was dignified and beautiful, and I loved the little town near the school.

Also, the school was strong in my areas of interest. I was seriously considering a major in music, and I was also hoping to play college soccer. I knew this college's music conservatory was excellent and that it had a pretty good soccer team.

So I loved the campus and felt confident the school had what I was looking for. It seemed like the ideal match for me.

Even though I was ready to send my application in the day I got home from my visit, I wanted to pray and make sure God was as excited as I was. In a way, though, my mind was already made up. Without really listening for God's direction, I started telling people I felt as if I'd found the college where God wanted me. My parents prayed about it, too, and felt the same way. I filled out the early application without applying to any other schools.

And then—probably sometime around Christmas—I started wondering whether I should have taken a serious look at more than one college.

On the one hand, I knew the school I applied to was where I wanted to go. I had felt that way from the moment I had stepped on the campus.

At the same time, I knew the school was very selective, and I wasn't positive I would get in. And what if it wasn't God's will for me to go there?

At first I kept my concerns to myself. For the most part, I still felt sure I'd discovered the perfect school for me. It seemed so obvious, and I didn't want to worry about it too much. But my concerns wouldn't go away.

Finally, I couldn't keep it to myself anymore, and I asked my dad whether we needed to look at some more schools. By then, though, it was getting near the date when I should receive a reply to my application. Dad said he understood my concern but thought we should wait for the response before we worried too much. So we waited.

Then it happened. Around the first week of February, I got a letter that made my heart drop like a stone.

"I'm sorry to inform you that you have not been selected for admission… ." They included a nice note saying I was a good student, seemed like a strong Christian, and they hated having to turn me down, but that didn't make me feel much better. I was crushed and confused.

I figured I could find another school. The problem was that I didn't want to go anywhere else. I had felt so sure that God wanted me to be there. That night I kneeled next to my bed and prayed:

Lord, do I really know how to hear your voice, or was I just deceiving myself?

I wasn't sure about anything. I'd never imagined it would be easy to get into the school I'd chosen, but I knew that if God wanted me to be there, he would make a way for me to go. I couldn't figure out whether I'd missed God completely or whether he'd changed his mind.

For two or three weeks, I tried not to think about school. It was getting late to start considering other options, but I wasn't interested in any other colleges.

I began to wonder if I had been looking at colleges simply because that's what people expected me to do. I wasn't even sure I wanted to go to college anymore.

Over the next couple of weeks, however, most of these feelings faded away, and I was ready to start looking at schools again.

I decided to handle my second college search a little differently than the first one. For one thing, I wanted something very concrete to cling to when I made my decision, like an acceptance letter. I wanted to be confident in my choice, and I wanted to know why I felt that way. I also wanted to visit several schools and take a serious look at all of them.

Over spring break of my senior year, my dad and I visited four different Christian colleges. We spent about a day at each one. All of the schools were on spring break, so there weren't a lot of people on any of the campuses. I enjoyed the schools, but after about 10 minutes on each campus, I had a feeling that most of them were not for me.

The only school that seemed to fit me was Taylor University in Upland, Indiana. Even so, my day there wasn't easy. I was still hurting from being turned down by my first choice. Also, I learned that Taylor already had a waiting list for fall admission, and I was worried about being rejected again.

During my visit, I was asked to fill out a form for the music department. Since nobody from the department was going to be there when I turned it in, they told me just to come back and stick it on the bulletin board outside the office.

While the other people in my tour group were eating lunch, I walked back to the music building. The office was empty, so I pinned the form on the door with a tack and started to walk out. But I couldn't. I didn't really have the heart. My feet were heavy, and I felt like I had a weight on my shoulders.

So instead of going back and finishing my lunch, I sat down on a little chair outside the office and cried. After a while, I started to pray:

Lord, I'm tired of trying to figure things out. I'm tired of weighing one thing against another. Every time I make the decision on my own, something goes wrong. I want to go where you want me to be.

After about half an hour, I left and went back to my group. I felt much better, and over the next couple of days, I began to feel good about Taylor. At the same time, I didn't want to just trust my feelings, so I told my dad I wanted to hear from all four colleges before I decided anything.

After that there was nothing to do but go back home and wait.

My college-choice process was a lot different the second time around. When I applied the first time, my parents kind of called the shots. They liked the first Christian college, and as soon as I said I wanted to go there, that was that.

This time, though, they wanted me to make the decision on my own. They told me to pray about it and then choose what I felt was right. Every time I asked them what they thought I should do, they turned the question around and asked what I wanted to do.

At times it was infuriating. I didn't really want to think—I wanted things to be easy and straightforward. Fortunately, my parents didn't let me off the hook. They wouldn't budge.

Before I heard from Taylor, I received nice scholarship offers from two of the other schools I'd visited. My parents, though, weren't as concerned with the scholarships as they were with me making the right choice. They didn't pressure me into any decisions. They told me that I needed to go where the Lord wanted me to go.

Then, one evening in April, the soccer coach from Taylor called. He said he had permission to tell me that I'd been accepted, and he wanted to know if I would be willing to play for him. He sounded like he wanted me on the team, and I started to get excited. Soccer was one of my top priorities. More and more, Taylor seemed to be the place I wanted to go.

That night I prayed for over an hour:

Lord, you know I want to be in your will. I want to know where you're directing me, and I need to know some things. First, I need a concrete, paper-in-my-hand acceptance letter. Secondly, I need to have a peace that this is where you want me and that I'm not just doing my own thing.…

The next afternoon I got my acceptance letter, and that clinched it. It was a direct answer to prayer. I had decided. Taylor was the school I would attend.

In my heart, I am fully confident that I made the right college decision. I can see God's hand through all the circumstances that brought me to Taylor. I had other plans, but he managed to direct me to the right place.

There's something to be said for waiting on the Lord. When you are trying to make a decision, it's easy to bounce between extremes. Some people tell you that unless God says no you should go for it. Others say that until the Lord says go, you shouldn't move at all. There needs to be a balance.

When I look back on my college search, I can see lots of things I would have done differently. For instance, I think if I had prayed about it more and paid more attention to other schools, it wouldn't have been such a shock to me when I was turned down by my first-choice school. I learned so much about praying and saying, "Lord I'm going to wait until you show me something. I'm not only going to trust my feelings."

Still, I know the experience was good for me. Yes, it was painful, and I made lots of mistakes. But God was there the whole time, standing beside me and taking care of me even when I thought I could take care of myself. I'm a stronger person because of it, and I know I'll use the lessons I've learned for the rest of my life.

Copyright © 2006 by the author or Christianity Today International/Campus Life magazine.
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