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Several years ago when I was still in middle school, my family and I went on a ten-day vacation to the Outer Banks. The beach was always a place that allowed time away from school, work, and the countless other things my family was involved in. Eating sandy sandwiches, getting burnt like my mother's Christmas cookies, and daring ever further into the ocean all made up the joys of the beach. One of the endeavors that never seemed to bring such joy, however, was catching fish. My brothers and I loved throwing lines in lakes, creeks, and anywhere else fish thrived. But for some reason, we never figured out the ocean. The salt in the water made the fish either too smart to fall for our bait or too dumb to care, either way, there was no success in our attempts at beach fishing. That was until, this time. Like an entrepreneur failing, we made the only logical choice, change our business. If fish weren’t buying our bait, something else would. 

My parents had decided to rent a house sitting directly behind the beach strand instead of a hotel this time around. The buildings in the area belonged to a collection of owner-named houses meant for vacation visitors. The cool and manly “Shark House” lived next door while our residence unfortunately carried the insufferable name, “Mermaid House.” Because it stood by the ocean, the house sat suspended above the ground held up only by wooden beams. The house creaked and made painful sounds and as Christians, I’m sure the very notion of it being built on the sand was not helping its case. Outside, attached to the house was a balcony resembling a deck, with wooden planks leaving enough space to peak down through to the twenty-something-foot drop. Considering the hurricane that took place a few days before we arrived, the countless number of crab burrows beneath us was logical yet incredible. The house provided crabs and their holes below perfect shelter from the bad weather, and provided us as creative children the perfect opportunity. Pearing through the gaps we slowly reeled down a rubber worm over the rails to the ground. With the assumed time process of fishing in mind, we prepared mentally for the unbearable waiting that was surely to come. But like an Amazon package arriving before its expected time, we were thrilled. The instant the worm touched the sand, a crab of unprecedented stature darted from its home and flung itself onto the worm, its claws slicing deep into the rubber. In shock we hesitated, only to be followed by our hurried yet gentle reeling pace. As the crab was hoisted higher so was our fear of it letting go. To our surprise, however, its desire to feast on the artificial worm outweighed its understanding of what was happening to it. With our hearts thumping, perhaps in unison, the crab was finally lifted onto the balcony. We scrambled wildly to find the small yellow sand bucket which was to be its new home. Once secured, we screamed for joy, banging on the glass door to show our parents the success of our mission. From then on we continued our fishing endeavor, reeling in more crabs than we could hold. 

In May of 2022, just a few days after finishing my sophomore year of college, my mother, sister, younger brother, and I visited our hometown in Germany to celebrate our cousin's wedding. Unlike the wedding, however, my heart held very little celebration. During the ten days we were there, I wrestled with God. Just six months before, I had given my life to Jesus and was now facing pride for the first time in my walk with Him. I knew pride was an issue I had but in my prayers fighting it I didn’t think the battle would be so difficult. For the second time in my life I had asked God to strip me of the idols I was holding onto, and for the second time, He answered by showing me. In high school, one of my best friends had gotten me into photography, and for a while, I posted my pictures to the app. By the time I stopped, I had amassed a following which over the next few years transformed what was once an innocent platform used to display art into a social status statement. My hundreds of likes stated, “I’m important” and “I’m popular.” But after giving my life over to Jesus, my very understanding of life was no longer about myself, but rather my Creator. The gospel itself spoke of my life, broken and helpless, now redeemed, not because of me and what I had done, but instead because of what Jesus had done. As one now walking with God, this now meant letting go of the old. 

During the days in Germany, I read through 1 Samuel, through which, my wrestle with God took place. The words of God to King Saul became words to me. “...destroy everything…do not spare them…” (1 Samuel 15:2-3) Each day would begin with God’s heavy words telling me to destroy my media platform, and each day would end with me coming up with justifications and compromises. “But I’ll lose contact with so many friends,” “I can just delete my pictures,” “I’ll just get rid of the app on my phone.” In my walk with Jesus thus far I had already let go of and destroyed other idols in my life, almost without hesitation. Yet now as I stood before this one, it seemed impossible. Instagram was an idol I was holding onto so tightly that my heart was attempting to justify disobedience to God. Like a crab holding on to an artificial worm, I could not let go. Saul, like I, did not do what we were commanded. “But Saul and the army spared Agag and the best of the sheep and cattle, the fat calves and lambs–everything that was good. These they were unwilling to destroy completely…” (1 Samuel 15:9a) For days as I read, my soul was weighed down by my inability to obey the Lord. But what stung worse was God's response. “I am grieved that I have made Saul king, because he has turned away from me and has not carried out my instructions…” (1 Samuel 15:11a) I was wrestling with God not because I didn’t want to let go or obey, but because the years of pride and identity in self-worth had dug so deep that trying to remove it felt like cutting off my own hand. Instagram wasn’t just a social status thing. It was my identity. Since childhood, I placed my identity in how others perceive me and I didn’t want to let go now because my pride and my previous security existed within. The death of Instagram would mean letting go of my identity in others and therefore damage the pride that clung on so tightly. The fear of letting go fully of my old life paired with doubt, made it so much more difficult. Only recently had I given my life to Jesus, and like trusting a stranger with my life, I was afraid. I did not understand God as One securely holding me in His hand. Like the crab clinging to its worm, I was trusting what I knew over the unkown. I was afraid of falling with no one to catch me. 

I was facing a forked road. Continue my walk with Jesus, or go on with the old. I could not do both. As I sat with God on the last day in Germany, eyes red and tears running down my face, I said “Okay.” A joy-filled peace flooded my soul as the decision to leave my old life behind was made. Arriving home the next day, I logged on to my computer and pressed delete account, smiling all the while. I had wrestled God and lost.