Fall Issue 9
On Being a Student and the Balance Myth
By Allysen Mahaffey
During the recent Living Well Forum titled “The Spiritual Life of Theological Students,” Professor Bruce Hindmarsh reminded us that our current primary vocation is being a student. He said that caring attention to our scholarship is a form of devotion and prayer. Bruce reminded us that in Mark 12:30, Jesus said, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.”
When I began at Regent two years ago, I took this student vocation seriously and studied, studied, studied. I made a conscious decision to focus on school, because I know myself: I am the type of person who wants to say yes to many things, take all the classes, have all the experiences, and be friends with all the people. I want to be an excellent student, a caring friend, a dependable employee, a helpful pastoral intern, a good daughter, a loving sister, a present roommate, a fun aunt, everything. All at the same time. I want a balanced life of rest, eat, sleep, exercise, study, pray, play. Often, it kills me to say no. To say no to social outings, to say no to last minute dinner invites, to say no to interesting events and lectures. I have intense FOMO (fear of missing out). While I’ve matured over the years and am learning to say no and to embrace solitude, a small part of me still screams when I say no: WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO MISS OUT ON?!?!
After my first year, I felt more settled in Vancouver and at Regent. I was ready, I thought, to take on more things. I found myself in an amazing church where I began an internship, and began working part-time on campus. I also made more friends and became a bit more social. I found myself trying to juggle too much—I wanted this ‘perfect balance’ so bad I was stressing about how to achieve this elusive perfect balance.
Almost a year ago, in the midst of the stress of trying to juggle and balance, I had a conversation with my friend and boss and role model, Gustavo. We were in Claire Perini’s community car, driving to No Frills to pick up red and green Coca Cola cans to make a beautiful and sugary soda Christmas tree for Sing and Swing. I shared with him about some of my anxiety and he told me that he thinks balance is a myth. My first reaction: WHAT?!
While it is my personality type to want to know all the people and do all the things, everything around us also tells us we need to have this perfectly balanced life. Be a good scholar, but don’t forget to have friends. Memorize those Hebrew paradigms and pay close attention to all your readings, but also get some good sleep. Eat healthy and exercise, but also stay within your budget. Finish your program on time, don’t take out too many loans, but also you should probably actually take your time if you really want to learn and be transformed.
Gustavo explained his crazy theory about balance being a myth and it began to not sound so crazy after all. He said that a better way to think about how to juggle all the things is to think of our life in terms of seasons (I’m guessing he’s read Ecclesiastes 3). This language of seasons has really helped reorient my priorities. This does not mean I would quit my internship (I love and value my church community) or my part-time jobs (Claire Perini and Gustavo Santos are my two bosses — how did I get so lucky?!). I would also probably be the saddest person ever without all the people around me. However, God has called me to Regent College to complete a Master of Divinity to enter into pastoral ministry, and I need to take this calling seriously. And right now, in this season of life, this calling is to be a student.
Simone Weil said: “Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.” Paying attention and being present often means saying no to many wonderful things and people, and I have to be okay with that. This is my current life. It will not always be my current life, but for now, it is okay and good to focus on my primary vocation as a student. The FOMO and the balance myth will hopefully fade. Paying close attention to my schoolwork is a form of love and attention — even when Hebrew paradigms or theology readings or endless reading responses or difficult papers feel like they are stretching stretch my brain to its fullest capacity. In those stretching times (which, lets face it, is almost daily), I have found myself gaining a deeper dependence on God, and am thankful He is meeting me and transforming me in and through my schoolwork.
Reflections of a First-Time Reader
By Mary Beth Lascurain
This Sunday, I will read the Scripture passage in church for the first time. In many ways, I will have come full circle. It was hearing Scripture read in church that pushed me into the study of biblical languages.
The Christian tradition in which I spent the first twenty-some years of my life was marked by among other things a firm commitment to one particular English translation. This meant that every single time a given passage formed the basis for a sermon, the very same wording was used. But this by no means meant that there was uniformity in interpretation. With a pause here, an emphasis there, or a choice of intonation, the same English words could take on different shades of meaning and even support opposite conclusions. This led me to wonder about my own reading. Regardless of the translation, I had questions. Can we draw any conclusion from the use of this word over that word? Should this phrase be emphasized over that phrase? How are we to understand this? And which of these sermons are actually making valid points? The only way to really know, I reasoned, would be to understand what was going on in the original language. So I began dabbling in the biblical languages, a hobby which has since expanded into formal study.
During my time at Regent, I have come to accept the painful truth that not all of you are delighted by the original languages. I understand that some of you want to hear about my integrative project only because you care about me, not because you have any interest in reading "The Fox and the Grapes" in Biblical Hebrew. Like me, you might actually tap your forehead on the nearest flat surface if you hear another overworn "inspirational" quote about why the biblical languages are so important. You may just be hanging in there, delicately balancing paradigms on the edge of your brain long enough to get the credits you need to move on with your life. And if I am being honest, I have ever so briefly toyed with the idea of dropping formal Greek study myself. For me, it is constantly having to dismember the text and cram into a stilted English better suited for disembodied words than actual communication. But then when I pull out by Bible in Hebrew or Greek and just read, I remember what what a privilege it is to hear Scripture the way it was given--the LORD God, creator of heaven and earth, speaking through the ordinary language of ordinary people.
On Sunday, I will read Scripture aloud for others to hear. My reading will doubtless be imperfect, but by a pause here, an emphasis there, and a choice of intonation, I hope to express the original-language text in English words. This is what we who study the languages can share with our brothers and sisters. This is the Word of the Lord.
The Peanut Butter Promise
By Jolene Nolte
I never want to use the last
of anything: peanut butter, milk,
the journal’s final page. As if
every jar of peanut butter, once
you peel back the seal and bring
your knife to the unbroken plain
promises an eternal supply.
But I excavate and consume
successive layers until all
that remains are smears along the jar walls.
I put it back in the cupboard,
unwilling to admit
it’s empty.
If I Could Remember How to Play
By Jonathan Lipps
If I could remember how to play…
I’d declare a holiday at once!
Unhitch my time from my telos
And roll that telos down a hill
Until it’s too dizzy to stand
If I could remember how to play…
I’d accomplish nothing or everything
Interdicting obligations, unconcerned whether
My wisdom is wise enough
My songs songful enough
My words wordy enough
My thinking thoughtful enough
My love loving enough
If I could remember how to play…
I’d stay one step ahead of my dizzy telos
My glorious backside sheen holding it at bay
I’d rhyme one minute and not the next,
Or, I’d just keep rhyming because, I confess,
My blank verse is affected, like everything else
Another tiresome bid for acceptance—
(That’s another thing that could use a good roll down a steep hill.
And no blank pages either! Too needy, too weighty with purpose,
Shouting, “I’ll be your next project,”… Get behind me, telos!)
If I could remember how to play…
I’d jettison all the fears barnacled on my soul:
The codependent beachheads I willingly allow
As well as my own native strain of anxiety—
A hill is too good for that; point me to a cliff!
So many things to send on their way…
Remembering to play is hard on the arms and shoulders
Maybe I should just throw myself down this hill, and see how it feels
Head spinning, feet twirling, grass streaking my clothes with freedom…
At least, that’s the kind of thing I’d do, if I could remember how to play.
If I could remember how to play, I don’t think I’d ever forget.