The Sword in the Stone

I suspected when things really started to line up to go to grad school that there was a reason behind it. To review, and for those that never heard the whole story, Brooke and I had three main concerns about moving and grad school and all of that. First, we needed to know that I would get in. Second, we needed to know that we would be provided for financially. Third, we needed to make sure that this was the direction our community saw us going in. To use a Christian-ese cliche, these three issues constituted our "Gideon's Fleece" before God; our series of confirmations that we thought we'd need--mostly out of our control--in order to be sure that this was the direction that God wanted us to go with our lives. That I got in to the HPS program at ND was a big enough confirmation. That they are paying me a small but do-able stipend is another bonus and confirmed our second issue. Though much less concrete, all signals that we got from friends, church, and family were "We'll miss you, but go!" But God didn't stop there. We found out that Dave was also going here and needed housemates. The house that we found here was in our price range and had plenty of room for him and for Greta. Then we learned that a young married couple of similar pursuits and beliefs that were also interested in community and were friends with Brooke moved in a few blocks away. They also had a newborn and seemed like ideal people to begin this new journey alongside of. Other smaller things fell into place too like the location of a nearby bike path and potential church community in the area. So many things came together that I began to get nervous. I know that God doesn't work under some cosmic karma where good and bad have to equal themselves out, but--call me a die-hard pessimist--I wondered whether these gifts and answered prayers were there to help bolster my faith should things not turn out the way we expected. In other words, if things got tough and we began to question whether or not we should have given up our lives in Columbus for this, we could look back to all of the obvious miracles that happened to get us here and be assured. The tough times came. And they have persisted. And I find myself asking the "shoulda" question more frequently. I think one of the toughest parts is that I didn't really want academia per se. I wasn't treating Element or our lives in Columbus like a stepping stone to something better. It was almost the opposite: by watching John have his mission(s) (Asia's Hope and Element) and seeing the things that Jeff has done with his gifts I began to wonder what I had to give God. I'm not an extrovert, don't find it easy to talk to people I don't know well, and have never been able to get my finger on the pulse of coolness. Even when I worked at Vineyard with high schoolers, I was always most comfortable dealing with the kids who wanted more than "Sunday School answers" to questions. I wanted to use any talents I've been given to serve but didn't know what arena would work best. Both B and I felt like I needed to be in an environment where I could look for answers to questions that had been on my mind for years and that aren't necessarily part of the everyday discussion. Academia, in that general sense seemed to be both a solution and a mission; a possible way I could challenge and be challenged as an ambassador for Christ. Of course things never work out that neatly. I can't just sit around a fire with a stack of books and discuss big issues with other people that are sitting around that fire reading their own stacks of books. I don't even really think that's what I'm "called" to necessarily. But I am continually surprised by how lonely this life is. How there aren't any people willing to sit around any fire and discuss big issues. How even here you are defined more by what you do--in this case related to your department rather than your business and measured by publications rather than paychecks--than who you are. And how, in the middle of the most Bible-belty places I've ever been, Church is seen as a Sunday morning event rather than a way of life. Needless to say, we haven't found many people to share the journey with. The prospective friendships we thought would be easy haven't been. And my co-students are not merely disinterested by the Gospel. To a certain extent, missionaries get big respect in churches. They are the people really willing to lay it on the line for God while the rest of us piddle around, restlessly flipping through the myriad channels of life. I think missionaries and pastors and the like really deserve the respect they get too. They've made tremendous sacrifices so that the Word is shared, so that people have hope in the midst of their restless lives. (What they don't deserve, though they get it too often, are rebellious children and people that put them up on a pedestal so much that they can't admit to the small stumbles that the rest of us take for granted.) I just wonder what my role is in the Church. I thought of myself going here as some sort of missionary-training work, but I can't see the rest of the Christian world really viewing Christian academics as valuable resources. In fact, with all the impact intellectuals have on the Church, you'd think part of becoming a Christian was learning how not to care about reading or scrutinizing difficult issues--how instead you're supposed to feel whatever is being delivered to you from the TV or the pulpit or the radio and then act on it in whatever way feels right to you at the time. So there's not any "respect" motivation to confirm that what I'm doing is right, no sense that I actually am training to be a missionary of sorts. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm not sure why I was called here anymore. I mean, I can see the obvious ways in which God led us here and I would be hypocritical to say that He didn't or, worse, to turn from this path. But I can't see a place for myself in the Church when I'm done--when I have to actually make a career out of thinking--aside from the "goes to church on Sunday" role. And academic rewards from the worldly side have never been too alluring either. Oh well. B has always said that God would keep us here as long as He wants us to be here. So I can't just give up. It's just more difficult to deal with this sense of aloneness than I thought it would be.