Paper Reflections

We all fill out numerous applications in our lives. We apply for jobs, honors, organizations, educational institutions, insurance, credit cards, benefits, and memberships. It's practically impossible to survive in the modern day world without filling out applications. (Think about it, you have to apply for jobs or for welfare and subsidies!) It's shocking the number of applications I have faced in just the first 21 years of my life. I have applied for seventeen educational institutions, not to mention numerous jobs, organizations, and honors. In addition, I've read applications and participated in selection for both jobs and organizations. So, what do these applications really say about us?

An application doesn't really reflect the candidate, it really reflects the person's skills of persuasion. You could be an underwater-basket weaving major, but if you have a high GPA and show leadership and involvement in underwater-basket weaving club and the society for underwater-basket weaving honorary, you may do well in the applicant pool after all. This is not to say that no one is qualified, it is merely to say that we learn how to present ourselves in the most appealing and professional-sounding ways possible. After a few applications, we learn that using buzzwords and filling the whole space provided is as important as actually having the necessary skills and experience.

This is all a strange result of the mixing of a society structured on achievement and our information-saturated media culture. We expect all information to be presented in a crisp, concise, professional manner. We view with skepticism anything that doesn't fit these expectations. While this system works in many ways, it makes me wonder about the people it allows to slip through the cracks.

For instance, a person who speaks four languages fluently, but for whom English is a third or fourth language will struggle in this system because their writing on applications will seem poor. Likewise, people who are quiet servants in the background of organizations and workplaces are constantly overlooked in favor of people who may put in less work, but are extroverted and visible. If two resumes were submitted, but one was in Times New Roman on thick eggshell paper and the other was in Jokerman on tie-dye paper, which would get the job?

Perhaps I have only encountered stodgy selection committees, but this seems to be the trend I observe. While I have been extremely fortunate in my experiences with applications, I wonder at the message of conformity and aesthetics that we present through these processes. It just seems that we've created a self-perpetuating power structure within these institutions, and I am concerned at the results it may have.

Is growing up just a series of goodbyes?

At the risk of sounding like a centenarian ruminating on ages long past, when did I get so old? This is not to say, of course, that I'm particularly old now, but I just realized that it has been years since I saw most of my high school classmates. I was procrastinating on Facebook today, something I do rather often (and a practice which I think is actually the purpose of the site, but that deserves its own entry) and I decided to scan through all the people from my high school who are on Facebook now at their universities. This, for anyone who is familiar with my background, is not a terribly time-consuming feat, as each graduating class from my high school contains only about 60 people, many of whom are not on facebook anyway. The point is, as I scrolled, I identified a huge number of people that I knew in high school, many of whom I talked to on a daily basis, that I have literally not seen since I left for college. I saw tennis teammates, people from my Physics class, girls from my section in choir, and people I danced with at formals that I have had no contact with in years. This brings me to the question: why?

Why is it that, while I live in a tiny town and return there approximately four times a year, have I not seen these people? It is not an act of conscious avoidance, but I don't spend all that much time at home. When I am there, I spend most of my time playing serious catch-up with my closest friends from high school and enjoying my family. I don't make the effort to see lots of people from high school, nor do they make the effort to see me. And, after much thought and not a little regret at first, I have decided that I'm OK with that.

The irony, of course, is that in my senior year of high school we all wandered around talking about how much we'd miss each other, making promises to keep in touch and stay friends, we even sing songs about staying friends and not saying goodbye. Then, after the graduation parties fade away and the thank-you cards have been written, we go our separate ways and may never see each other again. Sure, there are the occasional IM conversations or Facebook messages, but in truth, it's really over. It's no one's fault, really, it's just a result of the nature of distance and the limitations of time.

So, why worry about it? Because I'm a senior again. I am about to repeat the process of graduating and moving on to another place, another group of people, another social sphere. Inevitably, many of my friendships will fade, like the ones from high school. This saddens me greatly. I know that there are lots of people out there and many more friendships to be made. I know that I cannot live totally in the past, clinging to too many distant friends at the expense of building new relationships. Yet it hurts to consider leaving behind the people who have become my world.

In a very depressing way, it becomes a matter of trimming the fat. As with high school, a few friends will stay close, but many will fade away. Which relationships will be valuable enough to both parties to keep them alive? I had a foretaste of this in South Africa, when only a few people took the trouble to stay in contact with me, and I, therefore, only really kept up with a few of them. But this isn't a matter of a semester from which I'll be returning, this is the foreseeable future.

Goodbyes form a cyclical procession. First you move away from home and friends there, losing touch with many of them. Those friends are replaced by new college friends, who you are very close to for about four years, then depart from, allowing many of the friendships to fade. From there you go for further schooling or various jobs, and with each move, you gain and lose a new set of friends. It's a constant cycle of goodbyes.

On the other side of the coin, though, you get a new set of friends with each move. In every new place, there are more people to get to know, more people to build relationships with. It becomes a never-ending process of loss and gain. However, while contact may not be lost, the impact and memory remain. Even though I'm not in touch with many of my friends from high school, even though my relationships with many of my college friends may fade, I have been permanently altered by our interaction and I will never forget the lessons they have taught me. So to all of you, thanks. I miss you. And, if possible, stay in touch.

Faith: Verb

"Evangelism" has become a very loaded word. It has come to be associated with a particular group of Christians who subscribe to Biblical literalism and very conservative views on many subjects. It has become synonymous with the Religious Right, the Left Behind series, creationism, homophobia, and many other political and theological positions. It calls to mind the voices of Jerry Falwell, Pat Robertson, and Jed Smock. This definition of evangelism is extremely problematic for me, since most of those concepts and people repulse me. I began avoiding the word evangelism at all costs.

I have, however, changed my stance about this word. I have decided to reclaim it. I'm reclaiming it for what it REALLY means: sharing the gospel with people. This definition says nothing about becoming judgmental or taking a specific political or theological position. It implies sharing and dialogue, but beyond that, it implies care. According to psychological theory, until an individual's immediate bodily needs are met that person will be unable to focus on matters beyond that. As it says in James 2:14-17, What good is it, my brothers, if a man claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such a faith save him? Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to him, "Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed," but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.

Indeed, how can Christians ever show the love of God by preaching exclusion and judgment? Moreover, how can we preach love without showing care to those around us. Evangelism is not a man standing on campus spewing condemnation, prejudice, and politics at passersby in an uncaring and confrontational manner. Evangelism is reaching out with God's love to everyone you encounter in whatever way you can. It is smiling at the overstressed cashier at Arby's, lending notes to a student who missed class for a funeral, doing yard and house chores for those who can't do it themselves, driving neighbors without cars to the grocery store, and holding the door for the person behind you. It is the thousand little things we can do each day to improve the lives of the people around us; the things that almost always go unnoticed, but can show God's love as much or more than shouting at or handing tracts to passersby.

As St. Francis of Assisi once wrote, "“It is no use walking anywhere to preach unless our walking is our preaching.” Walk on.

Back...

Returning to an old blog is like finding an old pair of jeans in the back of the drawer and trying them on. Usually you find that you've gained or lost weight, or that styles have changed or you spilled something and couldn't get the stain out...in short that the you had a reason for putting the jeans in the back of the drawer and are now going to demote them even further by tossing them into the garbage can. However, occasionally you find that your favorite old jeans just got stored improperly and you still love them. The faded, worn hems are charming and they still fit like a glove, just the way you wore them in. They still match the sweaters and T-shirts in your wardrobe and you realize that you never want to let them go. They're just comfortable... they're you.

In short, I'm back to this blog full time, now that my African adventure is complete. I'm still me and this medium still works. Write on.

Now that you know, don't you wish you could go back?

Obliviousness quivered with joy,
Innocence glowed with naivete,
And truth stood:
A solid rock
Beneath sheltering, suburban roofs.

But the questions rained
And the roof leaked
And the rock eroded
And the light spluttered out.

The hinges creaked,
The box lid rose
And the apple crunched in mouths
So sour.

Curiosity sated, now fullness makes us sick
Because now we recognize starvation.
The glow no longer blinds us
To pain, death, poverty, cruelty
And our now-stilled hands are stained with blood.

Leaving makes you homesick
And knowledge makes you heartsick,
Inaction makes you guilty,
But action makes it worse.

Yet you can't clorox your mind
In knowledge there's no going back.
All at once you're trapped by your wisdom
Ignorance is no longer a lack.

Faith and Inspiration... from a Rock Star?

U2's Bono spoke to the National Prayer Breakfast on February 2. I have no idea why a rock star was selected to speak at this enormous religious event, but when I saw the transcript of his speech, I was so amazed and impressed that I almost froze in my chair. He spoke the very sentiments that I have thought many times, but he did so in such an eloquent manner that I was nearly breathless as I read his words. While I won't reproduce the entire transcript here, I want to highlight some of his words:


"Look, whatever thoughts you have about God, who He is or if He exists, most will agree that if there is a God, He has a special place for the poor. In fact, the poor are where God lives.

Check Judaism. Check Islam. Check pretty much anyone. I mean, God may well be with us in our mansions on the hill. I hope so. He may well be with us as in all manner of controversial stuff. Maybe, maybe not. But the one thing we can all agree, all faiths and ideologies, is that God is with the vulnerable and poor.

God is in the slums, in the cardboard boxes where the poor play house. God is in the silence of a mother who has infected her child with a virus that will end both their lives. God is in the cries heard under the rubble of war. God is in the debris of wasted opportunity and lives, and God is with us if we are with them. "If you remove the yoke from your midst, the pointing of the finger and speaking wickedness, and if you give yourself to the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then your light will rise in darkness and your gloom with become like midday and the Lord will continually guide you and satisfy your desire in scorched places."

It's not a coincidence that in the scriptures, poverty is mentioned more than 2,100 times. It's not an accident. That's a lot of air time, 2,100 mentions. (You know, the only time Christ is judgmental is on the subject of the poor.) 'As you have done it unto the least of these my brethren, you have done it unto me' (Matthew 25:40). As I say, good news to the poor.

[...] And finally, it's not about charity after all, is it? It's about justice.

Let me repeat that: It's not about charity, it's about justice.

And that's too bad.

Because you're good at charity. Americans, like the Irish, are good at it. We like to give, and we give a lot, even those who can't afford it.

But justice is a higher standard. Africa makes a fool of our idea of justice; it makes a farce of our idea of equality. It mocks our pieties, it doubts our concern, it questions our commitment.
Sixty-five hundred Africans are still dying every day of a preventable, treatable disease, for lack of drugs we can buy at any drug store. This is not about charity, this is about justice and equality.

Because there's no way we can look at what's happening in Africa and, if we're honest, conclude that deep down, we really accept that Africans are equal to us. Anywhere else in the world, we wouldn't accept it. Look at what happened in South East Asia with the tsunami. 150,000 lives lost to that misnomer of all misnomers, "mother nature." In Africa, 150,000 lives are lost every month. A tsunami every month. And it's a completely avoidable catastrophe.

It's annoying but justice and equality are mates. Aren't they? Justice always wants to hang out with equality. And equality is a real pain.

You know, think of those Jewish sheep-herders going to meet the Pharaoh, mud on their shoes, and the Pharaoh says, "Equal?" A preposterous idea: rich and poor are equal? And they say, "Yeah, 'equal,' that's what it says here in this book. We're all made in the image of God."

And eventually the Pharaoh says, "OK, I can accept that. I can accept the Jews - but not the blacks."

"Not the women. Not the gays. Not the Irish. No way, man."

So on we go with our journey of equality. On we go in the pursuit of justice."


I, for one, am impressed. I'm impressed because I believe in justice for ALL PEOPLE, regardless of their location, gender, sexual orientation, economic conditions, political opinions, or religious beliefs. I believe that everyone has a right to be fed, clothed, housed, educated, and provided with health care. After all, what if YOU had been born with AIDS in Niger? What if YOUR CHILD had no opportunity for education because your country didn't have the money to build schools and pay teachers? What if YOUR FAMILY had nothing to eat because desertification or warring had destroyed your crops? What if I were dying from tuberculosis because my family couldn't afford medication to treat me? People in poverty are exactly like us. Shouldn't they be given the care that we would hope to receive? Isn't their survival worth more than our Halliburton contracts? As people of faith, we have an obligation to treat EVERYONE with respect, to maintain the dignity of ALL humankind, and to care for ALL of God's people. It's not about giving money, it's about fixing the institutions of oppression and putting an end to the conditions that cause poverty.

Here's the link for the full transcript: http://www.data.org/archives/000774.php
Check it out if you're willing to be inspired.

For now, here's to dedication to a better future.

Return of the...Jedi? Mac? Something...

I'm back from my South African adventure, safely on U.S. soil, and tucked nicely into the daily habits of school and work. What am I doing now?

Off-Campus Living
I now live with a friend of mine in an off-campus apartment. While the building is very similar in style to a residence hall, it has a totally different aura. In FARC I left the door open constantly and knew that I'd see friends passing every few minutes. My buddies were close-by and I always had people to chill with because they were right down the hall. Our apartment building, however, is eerily quiet. Unlike FARC or the house where I lived in Cape Town, there is dead silence in the hallways and all the doors are closed. While Ashley and I have a great time relaxing in our apartment, I know that if she's not around, I have to take the effort to call someone and go meet them instead of just wandering down the hall and seeing whoever is around. It was also bizarre to return to the dorm to visit, since I hardly know anyone there. After three years of living in that building and knowing nearly everyone, the idea of being a visitor and knowing only a few people is VERY strange. Mostly I avoid the building altogether.

Graduation... Am I really going to do that?
My credits are totalled, my graduation application is filed, and I'm meeting my last requirements right now. I'm actually going to graduate from college. I am thoroughly overwhelmed by the realization that in a few short months I'll be a college graduate. Graduating from college is one of those threshold experiences, one of the last "steps" to being considered a full adult. Every time I think of that, I do a mental double-take. I know that I can handle the responsibilities. I know that I'll be OK. But, to be honest, I still don't feel old enough. I still feel like a seven-year-old that did the Rip Van Winkle-thing and is waking up to being 21 years old with no idea where the time went. It's strange.

Decisions, Decisions
I have applied to seminaries. Now the remaining steps are waiting for replies, interviewing for financial aid/scholarships/fellowships, and deciding. I remember that deciding to go to college was difficult, but I think (although I once considered it impossible) that there are even more factors to consider in choosing a seminary. I have to consider location, distances from Missouri and Ohio, where I want to eventually settle, what specialties I'm looking for, where on the liberal-conservative spectrum I want the school I attend to fall, whether the school has a good balance of academic rigor and practical preparation, how much flexibility the curriculum offers, what the faculty are like, class sizes, spiritual formation, housing costs in the area, whether it's residential or commuter, diversity in the student body, and how the school will look to the committees on Ordained Ministry that I'll need to get approval from in order to get ordained. There are so many things to consider that I can feel my brain oozing out of my hair follicles. To put it succinctly: Oy.

You want me to do WHAT?!
The process of becoming a United Methodist minister involves running an obstacle course that includes leaping through flaming hoops, dancing on one's hands while balancing spinning plates on one's feet, and walking on water, among other things. OK, not really, but it feels like it a lot of the time. It actually involves doing 2 workbooks, completing a series of interviews with committees at various levels, writing letters and papers, passing a psychological exam, providing five letteres of recommendation, getting a physical, and getting a masters degree. The whole process is excruciatingly long and complex. And it's a bit like a reality TV show, in that if at any point someone doesn't like you or what you're doing, they can vote you off the island and make you start all over again. To some extent, I understand. It's essential to make sure that ministers are trustworthy people who are strong and capable enough to serve in this capacity. At the same time I have to ask: What do my weight or the results of my pap smear have to do with my ability to minister to people? How are those things relevant in any way? Above all, why do I have to make those records open to whoever in the UM church wants to see them? It's incredibly invasive and frightening. I'm just trying to keep from drowning or getting a fatal papercut in the sea of paperwork. After all, the fatal papercut would probably be an unacceptable mark on my physical exam and I'd have to start the whole thing over. Yeesh.