Overwhelming relief. That's what I felt as I rode down the streets of Tulsa, Oklahoma, in my best friend's car on the night of our high school graduation. I stuck my head out the window and yelled: "FREEDOM!"

Don't get me wrong. I loved high school. But after spending four years of my life involved in dozens of activities and clubs, I was burned out. I had squeezed something into every minute of my schedule: student council, youth group, after-school job, band, choir, community volunteering, honors classes and AP tests. You name it, I probably did it in high school.

After tasting the liberation of high school graduation, I looked back on those four years and vowed: never again. Never again would I be the frazzled, overcommitted girl who couldn't say no.

Fast-forward three months. I arrived on the campus of John Brown University in a buzz of excitement. My family helped me move into my residence hall room, and then I hugged them goodbye, eager to start this new phase of my life. I was just a carefree freshman ready to do nothing but go to a few classes each day and maybe do a little studying.

By the end of my first week at college, I had signed up for 18 hours of classes, joined the Honors Program, and tried out for the university's choir.

If only I had stopped there. During those first few months, there seemed to be an unending choice of activities, groups, clubs and ministries to get involved in, and I soon learned that I hadn't really learned to say "no."

And, just like in high school, I had a lot of people around me encouraging me to do more. Academic advisers pushed me to take honors courses, ministry leaders needed help, and friends wanted me to get involved in the same activities they were doing. And with my serious case of people-pleasing, I had a recipe for disaster.

Over the next two semesters, I joined a junior high ministry, took an overload of 18-plus hours each semester, started taking voice lessons, added a music minor to my journalism major and Greek minor, interviewed and was accepted to be a Resident Assistant (RA), and worked a part-time job on campus. I had slowly but surely inched my way back into the "way overcommitted" category.

During the summer after my freshman year, I worked a full-time job as a public relations assistant and led a large-scale Bible study for about 40 girls in the youth group at my home church. It had been a busy but fulfilling summer, and I was excited to get back to college to catch up with all my friends and start the new year.

Because I was going to be an RA that year, I was supposed to move back to campus a couple of weeks before classes started. During that time, I was to attend RA training and get my residence hall ready for students to move into. A few weeks before I was supposed to move back on campus, the youth pastor at my home church asked if I could help lead the worship and be a sponsor for a big retreat the youth group was having. "Sure!" I immediately said.

Then I looked at the dates of the retreat. It overlapped with my RA training. My mind started whirling with ideas about how I could do both. I called my hall director at college and worked out a schedule where I could drive back and forth from home to campus during those days, as long as I didn't miss any of the training sessions. Perfect! I would have to miss a couple of parts of the retreat, but I thought it should all work.

A couple of days before the retreat, I drove the hour-and-a-half to John Brown and moved into my residence hall room. I tried to get unpacked while starting a barrage of RA training seminars. The moment they were finished, I bolted back to my car and sped back home to help lead the retreat, and then drove back to campus again.

Three days later, having logged very little sleep, I pulled into the parking lot of my residence hall and dragged myself up the steps. As I walked to my room, I saw some other RAs hanging out, and I knew that all their work was done and they were ready to start the year. As for me, I had done nothing to get ready for my residents to move in.

After an exhausting week of getting my hall ready and my residents moved in, I went to my first journalism class. Older students had told me this was a really tough class, but I could barely keep my eyes open as the professor gave the introduction to the class. The class had just started and I was already feeling behind. I was so tired and stressed from the past summer's schedule that I wasn't mentally, physically or spiritually prepared for the year ahead.

As I thought about how to get out of the mess I'd created for myself, I remembered a Scripture a woman from church had once shared with me. It was Isaiah 30:15 (NIV): "This is what the Sovereign Lord, the Holy One of Israel, says: 'In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength,' but you would have none of it."

I looked back over the cycle I'd been on for years: take on too much, push myself to the point of exhaustion, break down, vow to change, and then start the whole cycle again. I knew it was time for a real change.

I took a long, hard look at my life and evaluated my priorities. I had to decide which activities were really important to me and drop the less important ones. For example, I knew I wanted to impact other people's lives, but I was spread too thin to have much of an impact at all. I decided to focus on my ministry as an RA to the girls on my hall, which meant quitting the junior high ministry.

I started applying my plan in other areas, too. I loved music, so I stayed in choir but dropped my music minor and quit my voice lessons—even though my teacher was disappointed that I was quitting. I also decided not to apply for the editor's position on the newspaper. I took a lesser position that still met my journalism major's requirements without the huge time commitment and responsibility.

Over the next two years of college, I added a few more things to my plate, like leading a discipleship group of freshman girls and taking a couple of other campus leadership opportunities. But I made those decisions intentionally and with a resolve that I would never take on more than I could do well and without being frazzled.

The result was a great college experience with time to build really meaningful friendships. After I cut back on the extra activities, I had the time to take a spontaneous road trip to Memphis, Tennessee, with my two best friends. Another time, I invited several friends to come home with me for a weekend. I'll never forget the fun we had playing in the snow during a huge winter storm. Those memories were made possible because I'd made serious changes in the way I prioritized my life.

I'll be the first to admit that the changes weren't easy. I had to realize, down deep inside, that "more is not always better" and that God does not love me more just because I do more stuff. I also had to make daily choices about how I'd spend my time—even if that meant disappointing some people or missing out on something that might have been fun or exciting.

As difficult as it was to change, I'm so glad I'm not the stressed-out person I used to be. I now have the time and energy to enjoy life more. And even though I'm doing less stuff for him, God feels closer than ever. In fact, I have time to do real and fulfilling ministry to others—the kind of ministry that can't be done in a hurry while I'm rushing on to the next appointment in my Palm Pilot. It's the kind of ministry, though, that can be done through a meaningful conversation while lingering over a cup of coffee.

Cherissa Roebuck graduated from John Brown University with a bachelor's degree in journalism.

1) Admit you're stressed. Is your life so packed with things to do that you can't get anything done? Does that gnawing feeling in your stomach never go away? Are you tired, short-tempered, discouraged? If you answered yes to most of these questions, you're probably too stressed. So admit it, and then …

2) Make a list. Write down every single activity you're involved in, including time spent at a part-time job. Estimate how much time each week you spend in these activities, as well as how many hours you spend on homework, hanging with friends, and anything else requiring a significant chunk of time.

3) Take your list to someone you trust. Have this person go over the list with you. Talk about why each item is important to you. Discuss your priorities—those things that are (or should be) most important to you.

4) Prioritize your list. Order your list from most important to least important. Determine what you need to cut out of your life, then cross those things off the list. Circle the things you want to keep no matter what. Evaluate the in-between items and resolve not to feel guilty if you don't do all of them.

5) Practice saying no. If you want to cut down on stress, you must learn to say no.

6) Think about your use of time. Ask your guidance counselor or an organized friend for tips on how to use your time better. Also, go to the bookstore and check out some time planners and calendars. But remember: A time-management tool is only as good as your commitment to use it.

7) Keep God first. Place your hope and trust in God and make your relationship with him your top priority. As you do, you'll discover you really do have time for what's most important in life.
—the editors

Copyright © 2007 by the author or Christianity Today International/Campus Life's Ignite Your Faith magazine.
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