Winter Issue 12
Whoever coined the phrase “God made dirt and it don’t hurt” hadn’t read the Book of Job. - Evan Huegel
Click here to download a PDF of this week’s issue.
Click here for the Greensheet.
A Sentimental Sendoff to the Class of 2021
By Audry Goertz
It seems to me most of the people I met when I first began in the Fall of 2019 are now leaving. When I first arrived I was intimidated up to my eyeballs, and the more students I met the more I realized I was in fact not up to my eyeballs but fully in over my head. Each second or third year student I encountered seemed to have this glow of wisdom and maturity about them, with somehow a faint aroma of some mixture of bread, whiskey, and wool sweaters warmed by a fire after a light rain. In other words, they smelled of academia and appeared as young sages after their years of tutelage.
Did I mention I was intimidated? (Like, Leslie Knope meets Joe Biden kind of intimidated, for all you Parks and Rec viewers).
It’s been two academic years since then, and the glow and academic halos have faded somewhat since joining them in my wool cardigan by the fire with my own slice of sourdough and tumbler of whiskey. However, the affection and admiration remains, and so I’m rather sad to see them go.
So with that, though I don’t know them all and those I do know I don’t know very well, here is my sentimental (and cheeky) sendoff as one who has looked up to the class of 2021 from distance:
Matthew Key: The first face to greet me a week before orientation (again, I was an intimidated keener!) and who’s British accent, beard, and cardigan-wearing is likely what gave me the initial concept of “the academic aroma.” Who will be called on in History 501 and 502 once you’re gone? No one. Bruce and Don will have lost their undisputed, well-deserved favourite. He was also the first to confuse me with the incomparable Aubrianna Pennington.
Regula Winzeler: Our esteemed ruler (see what I did there?). Though she is the only RCSA president I have ever known, she is the best I have ever known and should simply be hired as a permanent part-time staff member so we don’t have to elect a new one. I could be convinced she’s secretly the disguised Amelia Mignonette Thermopolis Renaldi, Princess of Genovia.
Christopher Agnew: At first, I was almost nearly convinced he was simply the TA for every single class, as though every other TA was simply hired to alleviate his work load. A doctor, missionary, cancer-survivor, full-fledged academic, father to a newborn, reviewer and endorser of faculty books (an academic influencer, one might say), and all around nice guy. Literally the person who makes the rest of us believe we’re unqualified to be TAs. Quite possibly an Avenger in disguise stationed at Regent to protect the Princess of Genovia.
Allysen Mahaffey: The first fellow female MDiv student I met who wasn’t a first year as well. Made me believe it was possible, and I could do this. Also interned at the designated “cool” church, Grandview (though the thoroughly academic went to St. John’s Anglican). The first to represent the MDiv on the RCSA, traveller of the Holy Land, proud aunt to three adorable babes, and a (somewhat oxymoronic) down-to-earth inspiration cloaked in far too much humility. She’s like an American Anne of Green Gables (and not just because she has red hair).
Victor Chua: I thought, since having read the entire Old Testament at least twice through by the time I began at Regent, that I was relatively knowledgeable on this part of Scripture. What I failed to ask myself was “relative to who?” Because relative to Victor … I KNOW NOTHING. Honestly, I’m not sure what Iain’s going to do now. We should maybe consider cancelling OT Foundations for a year. Maybe. Because I’m fully convinced no one can TA that class better than Victor.
Mary Frances Giles: Oh, MFG, I’m not even sure how to put your place in the Regent community into words. I was immeasurably blessed to be in a CTC tutorial with you as a first year, and have continued to be blessed by you ever since. Would it be weird to say you almost feel like the older sister I never had? Yes, yes it would be. So perhaps the best compliment I can pay you is to say you are the Claire Perini of the student body. You are beloved by staff, faculty, and students alike, and I hate imagining this place without you. America needs you, I know, because you are a powerhouse of wisdom and kindness with just enough sass to keep it from being annoyingly perfect.
Steven Gomez: First encountered through this, the Et Cetera, though it took me a while to match the name to the person. The collector of the people’s words, the lover of tea, books, and good reading chairs. He did not ask me to write this, nor am I being paid (though if he chooses to tip me that’s his prerogative), but it must be acknowledged that for those who’ve been here for only two years or less, his legacy is the Et Cetera and for that I and many others are grateful.
Alice Hodgkins: Alice, though first mistaken as shy and quiet, is actually the embodiment of boldness I soon realised. She is fearless in her apparel and appearance, but even more so with her words. The absolute pinnacle of her boldness was, for me, her confession of still not knowing what ‘ontology’ means in her poem at the Fall Retreat. Upon hearing this confession, a gasp escaped my being at the comfort of knowing I was not alone. But obviously, of course, she knows what every word means now, and hopefully will bestow that wisdom upon us even as she leaves.
Now, there are so many others that I could write of, but alas I must get back to my studies. Please, if you were not specifically mentioned, know that your presence had just as much of an impact on the Regent community, and you will be just as missed. This academic year has been … well, many words could be used, but I’ll choose to say it’s been less than ideal. Less than ideal because we did not get to be together as we would have preferred to be, to celebrate you and your time here, and all which you’ve accomplished as you go from this place to bless the next.
The class of 2021 has set a standard to which following cohorts aspire. Class of 2021, you have not only set a standard for academics but for extending invitations, friendship, fun, service, and joy.
Thank you.
We’ve asked the Class of 2021 a few questions and they have been kind enough to give a few ansers. You’ll find them scattered throughout this issue, starting with... What would you as a grad say to your first-year self?
Tami Peterson: My first-year self was hoping to answer some very important questions about my vocation, but I would now say to that person, "What you are really searching for is how you fit into the universe God has created, so don't limit the question. Stay in the first question long enough until it expands and then be patient as the disciplines of prayer and study bring about more questions. Allow curiosity to drive you too, not just discipline."
Georgia Omwa: Trust the process.
Mary Beth Lascurain: I know you are feeling really overwhelmed right now, so you're thinking about skipping the academic writing course. Don't do it; regardless of how busy you feel with that looming summer school paper deadline, you can't afford not to make what will be the single greatest investment in this new phase of your academic career.
Now that you’re leaving, how would you answer the why-did-you-come-to-Regent question? Has it changed from when you started?
Tami Peterson: I came to Regent to enter into a group of creative thinkers about life. I would say that is exactly what I found and I would say "yes" again and again to that experience.
Georgia Omwa: I don’t know why I came to Regent, and that hasn’t changed. Only God knows.
Kathryn McLean: My husband, James, and I initially came to Regent for him to study here. After I took some courses for audit, I enjoyed the learning and decided to do the diploma program. Also, I had wanted to study the bible since I was a teenager, so it was great to fulfill a long-term aspiration!
Everything Beautiful in Time
By Joyce Wong
“All of our decayed parts will flower again…
All of our afflictions will be healed again…”
—Andrés Pérez González, “All of Our Decayed Parts” (from St. Augustine’s Confessions, Book 4)
The petals fall quietly,
one after another,
the way her tears do
in weariness and grief
Their falling is still beautiful,
a reminder of belovedness
within this moment
The girl who gathers these petals
remembers her Maker, Lord, and Saviour weeps with her,
gathers her tears as precious,
holds her even in her falling
Could it be that some of our tears are watering
gardens of glory, gardens of His kingdom?
(the way the tear-shaped buds
preface the magnolia blossoms)
Over two thousand years ago,
a woman stood weeping
by an empty tomb,
looking for her Lord
When she turned, she saw one
who she thought to be the gardener,
yet when he called her by name,
she knew it was her Lord
O, God of life and death,
who overturned death,
O, good Gardener of our bodies and souls,
Gardener of our griefs and sorrows,
weep with us, restore us again
Could it be that some of our tears are watering
gardens of glory, gardens of His kingdom?
Not everything can be mended or healed
this side of eternity
or within one generation, but
He will make everything beautiful in time
This poem is partly inspired by the song “Psalm 126” by Isaac Wardell, and by Makoto Fujimura’s beautiful idea in Art + Faith that Jesus’s tears (when he wept at Bethany) remain with us and multiplied: “Our tears need to co-mingle with Jesus’s tears. It is right for us to be troubled deeply with the broken realities of the world around us. We need to stand in the pit of Ground Zero and breathe in Jesus’s tears. Then we can create. Do not let anger overtake you in despair. Let your tears lead to your small resurrections.” (Fujimura, 112)
What’s next for you?
Tami Peterson: Obedience. Elizabeth Elliot once said, "The outcome of my obedience is none of my business." It sounds very lofty, but I find it true. I say yes to God's questions of obedience and serve the people who cross my path as a Vocational Discipleship coach. I am currently working on a coaching process to better walk with people on that path, usually young people, but really, anyone looking at a liminal space in their journey and asking "Am I supposed to go there?"
Georgia Omwa: Good question! Only God knows.
Kathryn McLean: Living life in Vancouver and hopefully being outside as much as possible this summer!
Anonymous: I still have another year to go, because I’m doing the MDiv. Because I’m a dumbass.
A Drop
By Conor Wilkerson
I stand on the shore glimpsing far off hills,
When I am woken by my damp’ning stride.
A drop is enough to ripple and fill
My soul with the depths of these roaring tides.
I am a drop surrounded by vastness,
Untamed currents wild and dark. This ocean,
It is a mystery that surpasses
All my understanding, for its motion
Moves me to wonder: “Is there one who could
Tame the Leviathan under these tides?”
“One has,” the waves cry, “One wilder yet good.”
“He made us and His breath contains our sides.”
I am a drop surrounded by beauty.
Held in a wave by the one who made me.
Now that you know everything about theology…would you rather be the sandcastle or the wave? (And here you thought you'd be done with Claire's silly questions!)
Tami Peterson: Silly questions, of course, are the best kind! So disarming and provocative! For many reasons I cannot fully comprehend or explain, I would always choose the wave in order influence others as they build.
Kathryn McLean: The sandcastle.
Georgia Omwa: I’d rather ask the question.
Mary Beth Lascurain: The sandcastle. As a follower of the one true God, I will not align myself with Yamm.
The Editor’s Desk
How to Say Goodbye
By Steven Gomez
Somewhere in the pile of things I need to write is my final Et Cetera article as both a student and an editor. I find this to be an impossible task to think about. I suppose the best thing to do is just start writing and see what happens.
How does one write such a thing as a goodbye article? I don’t know how to handle or make sense of all the emotions that come up. Coming to terms with leaving Regent is a lot messier than I realized. I’m good at beginning things, very good. I’m terrible at ending them. Just ask the dozen or so novels in my notebooks or hard drive that have about two paragraphs of Chapter 1 written. And those are the lucky ones.
(Witness the fact that I wrote the above two paragraphs roughly three weeks ago and haven’t come back to them until now, the day before this issue is meant for distribution.)
When I’m forced to say goodbye to something beloved, either to people or places or things, it’s usually messy and drawn out; we’re not really saying goodbye, are we? And I have seriously loved my time at Regent and my time as editor. So much so that I’ve made my goodbye even messier and more uncertain than usual by contemplating going on with the ThM, even though part of me knows that it’s probably just denial; I don’t really have to say goodbye, do I?
I was in a backyard with friends last night having dinner (properly distanced) and when it came time to leave we flapped our arms and hands outstretched, pretending to hug. So it brought home the special pain of goodbyes this particular year: I have to watch dear friends leave, and clear out the locker, and lay down my work on this paper, and say goodbye—without being able to hug. But I am still able to write, so if I can’t hug with my arms maybe I could hug with words. (Geez, Steven, how sappy is this going to get?)
In my first year, I could not have contemplated editing the Et Cetera. It seemed so beyond my skill set and level of confidence. But then Jolene, my predecessor, asked if I’d consider applying and I took a chance. And a month into the job I was asking Claire and Regula if there was any rule barring me from doing it a second year. Because despite the occasional frustrations of not having enough submissions most weeks, I was having fun. I’d learned not only that I was capable of being an editor, but also that I enjoyed it—and, if I say so myself, that I could be good at it. (As egotistical as that sounds to me, I’ll leave it in.)
There are a dozen similar stories I could tell you about what I learned at Regent. Not all of them have to do with the subjects taught in class. This place has given me much more than a degree. As difficult as it is to believe, this is the first time that I’ve arrived at graduation feeling like I’ve gotten an education.
When I began my student journey I was convinced almost right away that I wasn’t smart enough for Regent. It’s a lie, of course, but to be honest the feeling never quite goes away; I found it waiting for me at a lunch table just a couple weeks ago, hoping to get me alone for another disparaging talk. But I’ve been learning how to deal with that too—and that it’s not impossible to get help in talking to that feeling. You may know this feeling; it tends to be common, which alone tells you that there’s nothing to it. The only advice I can give you is this: trust that you’re in school, and it’s not about how smart you are but about how much you’re willing to learn. And when you feel like you can’t go on, pray; let God have the final word on how smart you are.
Look at me rambling on. There’s only so much space and so much time left and I have yet to say a proper goodbye. I told you this is tough for me. I’m looking at the clock and know I need to leave, but I have yet to even stand up from the couch. I’m too sentimental, I know. I cling beyond either of our capacities. There’s also the fact that, though I need to leave, I have no idea where I’m going next. I could even end up back here in some capacity, when all is said and done.
When all is said and done. Like this article. The time is really up, the space is really gone. I’m terrible at ending things. So I leave the ending in the hands of Jesus Christ who, on every subject you might care to name, is the Father’s last and final Word.
If you feel like responding to any of this week’s articles, feel free to write a letter to the editor by clicking the link below.