Very few people have anything positive to say about the coronavirus pandemic or its outcomes. It upset people’s lives, routines, jobs, education, families, and traditions. And regardless of how accurate the numbers are, it killed people. But I believe in a God who can work anything to His glory and purpose. And in this issue, I will show you, my dear reader, how He worked the COVID-19 pandemic to His glory and my own inestimable benefit.
In 2019, on August 8, I progressed from a highly successful eighth-grade year into an equally productive freshman year. I was enrolled in the Future Ready Institute at my school, which provided opportunities for exclusive access to top-of-the-line resources, education, and technology. I was also in the Gifted program, the Civics club, and JROTC.
With all of these things in my favor, I had aspirations of a military career in the Air Force, as well as a possible education at MTSU or the Air Force Academy. I wanted to work in engineering or computer programming, and I had ambitions of creating about a hundred different things.
But on March 13, 2020, after a week of preparation for this thing called “distance learning”, we were all sent home from school until the spread slowed. This was originally supposed to mean that we would return to class on March 23, but then it became April 13. Then it was April 27. Finally, it was just not happening. School ended as usual in May, and a summer of loneliness began.
I had registered to attend a week-long summer camp at the University of Tennessee, but it was quickly converted into a ZOOM experience amid the covid panic. While I enjoyed eVOL10, I would learn in a later experience that this turned out to be far less than originally planned.
Before sixth grade, I had been homeschooled. The story of how I entered the public school system can be found in other issues, but I returned to homeschool for tenth grade because any in-person learning that would be allowed—which was very little—would be done in face masks, a completely unacceptable stipulation. I did continue to participate in JROTC, but this was mostly virtual. Activities such as the drill team and honor guard which were on campus took place outside, so masks were optional. And eventually, my doctor signed a letter to the effect that I was medically unable to wear a mask, liberating me to enter the building when necessary.
By the end of tenth grade, it was decided that I would not continue to participate in JROTC, even though I performed above expectations in many areas, due to various outside circumstances. I began interning at a local radio station that summer, a story that can be found in another issue, and my entire vision for the future began to change.
As the coronavirus prompted widespread calls for virtual living, masks, and injections, it became increasingly clear that I, as an individual who could not wear a mask and would not take a shot, could not count on a future in the Air Force. Without this option, I had no way to pay for college. Therefore, I became undecided as to what I wanted to do after high school. I knew, during my summer internship, that I was interested in politics and digital media, and I hoped to start a company in this very general field. But I became somewhat deflated when my dad told me that I could not easily find a career without a college degree. It also became clear that Dad wanted me to go to college, and that Mom would never see me off to a secular university. Thus, I found myself in a perplexing situation. I had an important decision to make, the stakes were high, and the means and logistics were beyond my ability to predict, plan, or even hope for.
The story is told in another issue of how I found Bryan College. To make a long story short, I started as a dual enrollment student at Bryan, and I was faced, as at any college, with pressure to become a full-time student after high school.
By the time I started taking Bryan classes as a high school junior, it had been fairly settled that I would attend a college similar to Bryan, but in order to do so, I would need to qualify for enough scholarships and grants to afford it, as well as probably getting a job to work my way through. This became increasingly clear as subsequent interactions between me and Bryan College strengthened my resolve to make it my future alma mater.
Money was, of course, the main factor. My ability to qualify for enough scholarships and grants would be the only thing that could make my future at any college possible. But then, a new idea was suggested.
In May or June of 2022, my dad sat me down for a series of talks about resolving a definite plan for my future. In one of these talks, he warned me about having tunnel vision on attending Bryan—which I did to a large extent—and advised me to consider an alternative like Berea College in Kentucky. The advantage of this college was the fact that according to my dad, most of Berea’s students paid very little tuition, meeting their financial obligations through its work-study programs.
After an initial reaction of almost totally rejecting the idea, arguing that I would not spend my college years working for no reason besides sheer necessity, I considered this as an option. This was mainly because my dad reminded me that if I went to Bryan, I would probably have to do so anyway, but that an outside employer would not necessarily be respectful of my academic schedule the way a work-study program would.
I never actually looked at Berea. I never visited its campus, never saw its picture, and never discovered its mascot. This was due to another event that occurred in July, which left my dad with absolutely no doubt that Bryan College was the one and only college for me. And on that day he began praying, as my mom had a good deal earlier, that God would make it possible for me to become a Bryan student.
God has been tirelessly working to that very end, and His work remains to be seen in another issue, but His faithfulness cannot be overlooked for a single second.