"Which way to Never Never Land?"

Pretending to read:

Here I Am: Now What on Earth Should I Be Doing?

By Quentin Schultze

I’m doing a pretty unconvincing job at pretending to read Here I Am, considering I hadn’t even picked it up off my shelf until today. I’m supposed to be writing a 3-5 page essay about my “spiritual and vocational calling” based on this book, but as usual, I’m not feeling it. I mean, (1) I don’t like writing papers, (2) I don’t believe in the idea of “vocational calling,” and (3) I don’t even have any good ideas about my future from which to BS a paper, much less write one seriously.

Toward the beginning of the year, I started stressing out about the future. My counselor pointed out that this is crazy. I could have the next 10 years of my life planned out to the second and it could all change tomorrow. God does NOT guarantee us tomorrow. He doesn’t even guarantee us an hour from now. Worrying about my future won’t add a single day to my life. So why plan? Ok, maybe that’s just me being a bit irresponsible… or maybe it’s me learning to trust that God will provide my path for me when he leads me to it.

I could be doing a lot of things seven months from now. This week (World Opportunities Week) has been reminding me of all of my options. Even though the world feels full of choices, I feel overwhelmed about picking one. I’m pretty sure I’m moving to Indy this summer, but that’s as far as I’ve gotten. No job. No apartment. Still, it seems like a logical step. Beyond that, my choices are endless. Do I get my MSW (I haven’t even taken the GRE, so this probably won’t work)? Do I join a newspaper staff? Do I move to Dublin and become a bum? I don’t even like Dublin that much! Why would I call that an option? Basically, I have no direction. Just scattered thoughts of things I could end up doing. I don’t feel “called” to any of them. But that makes sense.

A month or so ago, Kathy Bruner (my interactive media prof) really inspired me with this concept: Never in the Bible did God “call” someone to paid vocation. Our primary calling is to relationship with Him. The rest are just details. Whew! I can stop stressing.

My roommate loves Shel Silverstein and was sharing with me about her new favorite, Lafcadio: The Lion Who Shot Back. Lafcadio is a lion who learns to shoot a gun, so he goes to the city and lives among sophisticated humans. He’s invited on a hunting trip where he faces a dilemma: either join the hunters and shoot the lions or join the lions and eat the hunters. He wants to do neither. At the end of the book, Lafcadio walks off alone; unsure of who he is because he doesn’t fit the mold. I can relate to Lafcadio. Here I am (ahaha), graduating in May, completely unaware of where I fit in this world. And so I’m walking off alone, but in faith.

"And [Lafcadio] didn't really know what was going to happen to him, but he did know something was going to happen, because something always does, doesn't it?”

Hello again

So about an hour ago, I got off the phone with KAYLYNN KIYABU!!! I haven't spoken to her in, like, two years. She told me all about her life and all of my old Hawaii friends in Koinonia. Everything has changed in everyone's lives (naturally) and it's amazing to get up to speed... but I'm still catching my breath.

People lose touch with one another. It's a fact of life that is sometimes very sad and at other times is kind of a relief. Losing touch with Koinonia is sad. One is married. Two are in California. One is still in Hawaii. Kaylynn just moved to Las Vegas. I'm in Indiana. Maybe in summer of 2007 we'll all go to Europe like Kaylynn was saying. It would be amazing, but will it ever happen? A lot can happen in two years. Obviously.

This means WAR!

Our senior sem. project is blowing my mind. Each group had to plan a service project, so at my roommate’s suggestion, we organized a Penny War to raise money for Crisis Pregnancy Center in Marion. Each residence hall can donate spare change in milk jugs at its front desk. Pennies count toward the hall’s total score. Silver coins (nickels, dimes, quarters) count against the scores of all other residence halls.

I’ll be honest, I was skeptical. I mean, I’m sure it worked in Margaret’s high school, but would Taylor students donate money? I never even notice things at the front desk unless I get a package in the mail (which is never). I figured we’d make $5 at the most. As of last night, we had about 25 times that (and we still have a week left in the war)! Obviously this campus (especially English Hall) knows how to answer a war cry. I’m so excited to really be able to meet a need for an organization about which I care so much. So… party on.

In completely unrelated other news, I’m SO PUMPED about next semester! I registered last week and I’m all set to grad in May. Contemporary Christian Belief TR 9-10:15 is going to be an absolute PARTY. I mean, we’ve got Win Corduan, almost all of my girls, and my two favorite Asian boys (as if one could quantify such a thing). Yeah, so I’m going to die of over-exposure to Gen Eds (adolescent psychology will be my only respite from lib. arts core curriculum) and I have to write a senior paper, but with Jenny on campus and Janell taking Contemp before rushing off to her practicum, I think it’ll be a good time.

There's no place like home...

This morning while I was having fun with a new friend in Indy, a tornado was pummeling Evansville and Newburgh. As far as I know, none of my friends or family were in its wake. Still, it's sobering to see your hometown flattened on Fox News.

To the fatherless:

“The sadness was I’d lost a father I had never fully found. It’s like a tune that ends before you’ve heard it out. Your whole life through you search to catch the strain, and seek the face you’ve lost in stranger’s faces.” --Frederick Buechner, Godric.

Buechner’s father committed suicide when he was 10-years-old. The tragic event, in addition to his father’s alcoholism up to that point, colored Buechner’s life from then on. His perception of reality shifted, but perhaps more importantly, he lost touch with a sense of God’s character. It’s hard to see God as a Father when you don’t have one. I know from experience.

It’s chapels like today’s that bring back all the confusion. Renowned Bible expositor Sinclair Ferguson spoke on Romans 8. His chapel on Wednesday had been quite inspiring to me, so I looked forward to this message with anticipation. What I got instead was pain, guilt, confusion and heartache.

Ferguson’s words cut to the core of my soul. “No true father restricts his children from knowing him,” he said. This proclamation was met with a smattering of “Amens” from the surrounding student body. Tears flowed from my eyes. For 11 years I lived in the same house as the man with whom I share 50 percent of my DNA and I can’t remember a single thing about him. The only words I can remember him saying to me came after he moved out when he told me he would not tell me his side of the story. He refused to share his story with me. He refused to let me know him.

Ferguson went on to illustrate God’s love for us in the sacrifice of His Son. This too fell flat, as he explained how terrible it is for a father to be separated from his children. Much like Everclear’s Art Alexakis, “my father gave me a name and then he walked away.” He wanted separation. He declined joint custody. He’s never even set foot on the college campus where I’ve been for the last three years and two months. Difficult for a father to leave his children? I don’t think so.

To be fair, I don’t think my dad did any of that stuff to hurt me, but whether intentional or not, I will bear these scars for the rest of my life. Just like Buechner, I search through every face trying to discover the man I lost. God has been merciful, providing “father-figures” in the most unlikely of people, and yet the confusion, the fear, the vulnerability remain. A huge part of my soul is missing and always has been, to the point where I can’t even understand a simple example in a chapel message. Oh, God, please help me in my unbelief.

Alpha huh, what?

I should probably be writing a precis right now, but I'm not feeling it.

This past weekend I was inducted into a hoop-jumpers society. The ceremony was one of those tasteful affairs where professors rattle off each students’ achievements to the subdued applause of their parents and peers. When it came my turn, I was pleasantly surprised by my advisor’s introduction of me. Instead of listing my accomplishments, she chose to define me by my character and my wounds.

She described the various meanings of my names and explained how I embodied each of them. She briefly mentioned work I’d done, but placed overwhelming emphasis on my personality and affliction.

I was so encouraged by my advisor’s synopsis of me because it truly reveals where I am in life right now. In the past year, I’ve fought with the idea that all I am is what I’ve done. I took dramatic steps to negate that perception by dropping the Echo and learning to say “no.” The result has been a much more fulfilling semester in which I’ve faced my everyday battles head-on instead of burying them beneath workaholic tendencies. Slowly but surely, I’m discovering who I am and what I desire out of life. It’s good to know that others are seeing the fruit of this invigorating/agonizing process.

Humanity should not be defined simply by labors and accolades. It should be defined by stories. Are we not human beings as opposed to human doings? I am my feelings, my desires, my hopes, my wounds, my struggles, my stories. So what if I can jump through some hoops? What is important is that I am an authentic human being.

Red scare

They don't call it the Dining COMMONS for nothing. Marx would be proud.