non-metaphysical stephen

God knows.

God knows how it feels to get the silent treatment.
God knows how it feels when someone gets angry with you.
God knows how it feels when someone walks out on you.
God knows.
God knows how it feels to be uncertain how someone will react.
God knows how it feels to wonder if someone will return.
God knows how it feels to worry about friends.
God knows.
God knows the pains of love,

Because we have given God the silent treatment,
Because we have gotten angry with God,
Because we have walked out on God,
Because we have rejected God, rebelled against God, refused to listen to what God has to say.

Because we have not loved God as God loves us,
God knows the pains of love.

Because the job search is throwing me into confusion about which direction God wants me to take, I took some time this morning to recall God’s direction in the past:

I remember being a music student at Miami and realizing that my education wasn’t teaching me how to participate in the daily requirements of civic life; e.g., I could analyze Bach, but I couldn’t analyze political rhetoric. And I remember remembering some literature I had received after taking the PSAT in high school — information about a small, liberal arts school named St. John’s College. I had tossed it aside in high school — I didn’t want to read books in college! — but God brought it back to my mind, and I was soon convinced that this would be a better education for me.

I recall praying about this decision for some time — agonizingly, since it is a big decision to leave one school and start over completely somewhere else — and noticing how often I ran across references to Santa Fe or to New Mexico. It seemed to me that God was directing the universe to point towards St. John’s. And I am glad He did — enrolling was one of the best things I have ever done.

I recall that years later, I was enrolled in the MFA theater program at U. Georgia but had realized that it really wasn’t the right career for me and was looking at going to seminary. I had considered Emory’s program in music ministry (since I was living nearby), but was shocked to realize how unimportant the ministry component of that degree was — it was really a program for musicians who wanted church jobs, not for people who felt called to ministry. I had also considered crossing the street (literally) and going into the Comparative Literature program at Georgia, but I really had my heart set on pursuing either dramatic literature or ministry — I just didn’t know which.

I remembered that Boston U. had a theology school, and that I had considered going there when I was at Miami. So I got an application and prepared to fill it out. I had been praying for several months about what to do, but never felt any definite response. Certainly nothing like what had happened with St. John’s. But when I sat down with the application in my hand, I offered a quick prayer to God: “Is this what You want me to do, or do You have something else in mind?”

The answer surprised me: “Go into Comp Lit.”

Certainly not what I was expecting, nor even what I wanted, really. But I figured if I was hearing some false voice, God would soon show me my error and would lead me back to where He wanted me. But Comp Lit turned out to be wonderful, and within three months of enrolling, I had presented my first conference paper (on the medieval Christian dramatist Hrotsvit, interestingly enough, and commissioned, too — God knows my interests!).

I recall being in the final year of my M.A. program, feeling very uncertain about pursuing a Ph.D. (too much research!), but not sure what to do instead. I assumed I would be looking for teaching jobs at community colleges or private high schools. But one night, as I prayed about this, I was reminded that St. John’s had a Master’s program in Eastern Classics, and I felt that God was telling me to go there. This direction actually made sense, for I had been assigned World Literature as my first teaching job, even though I had very little experience with non-Western lit, and I realized that if World Lit was becoming a regular course offering around the country, I should get a better background in it. I had never been interested in Asian literature before (in fact, I had been warned that the popularity of Asian religions was undermining Christianity), but I was soon hooked on how beautiful and thought provoking it is.

After I finished the second M.A., though, I hadn’t been able to find a job (not even at the community college near my parents’ house!), and was spending a very miserable year facing the prospects of having to get a business job and of never being able to do the kind of work I like. Some ideas for a Ph.D. project in an area that truly interested me — devotional literature — popped into my head one day (while showering, not while planning my future), and when I mentioned them to my former professors at UGA, they said they sounded great. Plus, UGA had the resources to allow me to study Comp Lit and Religion (not a common combination, I found), and the department wanted to put me up for a prestigious fellowship. (And, I wouldn’t have to re-take my language exams!)

So, late in the fall, I started composing my application, still not totally sure whether this was something I was able to finish or even whether God wanted me to do it.

And then, disaster struck. I had miscalculated the winter vacation schedule for the administration offices at St. John’s and hadn’t gotten my transcript request in on time. The office would not re-open until after my UGA application deadline had passed. I was sunk — both professionally and emotionally.

And then, a miracle struck. I got a phone call on December 26th from a student worker at the registrar’s office, informing me that my transcript was going out that day. I couldn’t believe it — the office had been closed for one week and was supposed to be closed for at least one more; why was a student working in the office AFTER Christmas? It was the sign I needed from God that He really and truly wanted me to do this degree.

I have really enjoyed my 4.5 years as a doctoral student. I see that God allowed me to wait until I had a good sense of what I wanted to do, and that G0d has provided the support network I need to make it happen. It hasn’t always been easy — I often feel divided between the areas I am writing about and the areas I am teaching, and not sure which one God wants me to pursue next. But I am trusting that God is in control of my career, and that the application process will show me which direction God wants me to go.

And if God wants me to pursue something outside of academia, I trust that He will make that clear and open those doors as well. I am nothing outside of what God has made me, and I want my life to fulfill His calling, for only in Him do I truly live.

Unless the LORD builds the house, the builders work in vain.

May it be with me according to God’s word,
Amen.

The choir sang “There Is a Love” today, so I used it as the theme for my communion liturgy:

The table is God’s sign that there is a love that knows no limits. It signifies God’s act of pouring himself out for us, giving himself completely for our sakes, becoming one of us and refusing to let us go (even when we turned our backs on him).

Although it would seem that God’s gift is so amazing that we could never forget it, we still do. And it’s amazing how easily we do so. Life throws so much at us that the lessons of Sunday get drowned out by midweek. The presence of God gets lost amidst the traffic, the deadlines, and even the busy-ness that is supposedly our leisure time.

Yet even when we forget about God’s love, God has not forgotten us. The table remains there, an enduring reminder and resource to us of God’s grace and loving-kindness. We can come back to it each week, just as God waits for us to return to him each day.

Sometimes, though, God’s love seems unfathomable. Not only because God is so much bigger than we can conceive, but also because we are so small, so fragile, so seemingly unimportant in the world. How could the God who draws the stars together into galaxies, puts them in their places and then sets them spinning across the universe, how could this God possibly see us, much less care for us? Besides, how could God even have time for us?

Again, the table is our sign that it is all true. God dwelt among us, experienced our existence for himself, and is intimately concerned with our well-being. At the same time, God does not demand that we understand before we partake of the communion. Jesus’ command is “eat, drink”; we gain understanding by coming to the table, not vice versa.

There is a love that knows no limits;
It is not bound by what we see.
There is a hope that is eternal,
Able to meet the deepest need.
Though the world may try to convince us
That Christ could never be enough,
Where there are hearts that have been broken,
There is a love!

May we trust in this love and carry it into the world, that all may know Christ’s healing touch. Amen.