Navigating the Valley of Disappointment

May 11, 2017

When I arrived on campus two days ago, the door to the faculty lounge was closed. On it a sign was posted, "Interview in progress. Do not disturb." 

A punch to the gut.

I retreated to my shared office and closed the door. Most days I am gregarious, eager to connect with colleagues. But not today. Not the day of closed doors. I had planned to join others for lunch, but instead I sit alone at my desk. I am not safe today. I cannot predict what I might say. I cannot produce a genuine smile. My love for these colleagues is no less than before. I am not angry. I am bereft.

I should be on the other side of that closed door being interviewed, but instead I am here, burying this dream in the valley of disappointment.

Sorrow is a strange companion.

Just last week, when I learned the news that silenced hope, a great heaviness fell over me that I could not shake for a whole day and then some.

But then, just as suddenly, the heaviness flew away and I was flooded with a joy I could not explain. I remembered then that sorrow and joy are not opposites. They walk hand in hand. Grief opens up the deepest parts of us, but the raw ache that takes our breath away also expands our capacity for joy.

Disappointment strips us, laying bare our vulnerable selves. As the chimera of what might have been fades, the solid reality of what is comes into view.

I am loved.

God is working out all things for good.

The door my Lord opens, no one can shut.

Jesus has good works planned for me to do.

I am called and equipped.

I am not alone.

Why do I tell you this? Why hang my innermost thoughts in plain view for all to see and read and know? Because you, too, have walked the valley of disappointment, and you will walk it again. This way we can walk it together.

Ruth Haley Barton says "what is most personal is, indeed, most universal" (Strengthening the Soul of Your Leadership, 223). The more honestly I share my own journey, the more we both stand to gain. 

I shared my disappointment with my students last week. They grieved with me. And one wrote me the next morning, thanking me for my words. He, too, is in the valley of disappointment, but my story gave him the strength to carry on.

We do not grieve as those who have no hope.

But we do grieve, friends.

We do grieve.

Just yesterday I read these words, penned by Paul Pastor, but spoken as God's word to every one of us: "Give me your heart today, and again tomorrow—your whole heart, beating and full" (The Listening Day, 10).

Whether my heart is aching with hurt or swelling with hope, I am invited—you are invited—to offer it up in prayer. And here I offer it to you, too.

-------------------

January 14, 2018: Today I discovered this unpublished draft in my blog archives. I wrote it 8 months ago, but apparently thought better of posting it right away (or was I going to take a picture first of the sign on the door?). It still brings tears to my eyes to re-live this major disappointment, but that sorrow lives alongside the deep joy I have found in the door that God opened for me just weeks after that disappointment. Our heavenly Father does not promise that all our dreams will come true, but he promises to be with us all the way. What more could we possibly need?

a prayer companion for the next four years

Evangelicals have found ourselves in an awkward place this election season — heavily courted and yet publicly disdained. One day wooed, the next betrayed. There has been no easy way to navigate political conversations with friends and neighbors as emotions run deep and issues flare. Choosing how to vote created a conundrum for many people. Which policies are most compatible with Christian faith? Which issues should be highest priority—the economy? immigration? the unborn? race relations? How much should a candidate's personal beliefs (or lack thereof) and character (or lack thereof) play into our decision?

Some Evangelicals concluded that the only Christian vote was a Republican vote because it had the best chance of overturning Roe vs. Wade or was most likely to preserve the freedoms enjoyed by Christian institutions. Other Evangelicals felt passionately that the Democratic candidate best embodied the biblical ideals of caring for the poor and the oppressed. Still others felt that neither candidate had the personal character necessary to occupy the oval office. Some of us voted for a third party candidate. Others abstained in protest.

Wherever you find yourself on that spectrum, if you consider yourself an Evangelical, like it or not the polls have securely linked the president-elect with your vote. That means the world is watching, and you will be blamed for whatever happens next. A change in leadership always brings opportunities and risks. Whether you are concerned about what these next four years may hold or you are celebrating regime change, I've got a book to recommend just for you.

In a world full of pressing needs and deep divisions, this book is a call to prayer and fuel for action. For those whose hearts are heavy, this is one way to transform your burden to focused prayer. For those who are optimistic about the incoming administration, this book will augment your prayers for our new president in ways that consistently reflect God's kingdom priorities.

Offering a quote each week and a Scripture verse for each day of this four-year administration, Praying for Justice functions like a lectionary. As the authors describe it,

The title of this book contains an invitation to pray for justice, but this book contains no overt prayers. Many of the more than fourteen hundred Bible passages contained here are prayers or portions of prayers. To read these texts is to be invited to join them in prayer.  

This book invites us to use each day's verse as a meditation or reflection for that day and each week's quotation as an examination of the ways in which your life images God's redemptive justice in the world. 

This book is also a call to action. Now is not a time for Christians to sit and trust that others will take care of people on the margins of our society. Christians must not content themselves with mere social media activism or personal piety. Christians must act often. Christians must act publicly. Christians must act sacrificially. Christians must act with courage and compassion. Christians must act as if it matters - because it does.

This book was a labor of love by three of my colleagues at George Fox University. Anderson, Steve, and Paula worked like the wind for four weeks straight after election day so that you could have this resource in your hands in time for the inauguration. All the proceeds will be donated to Church World Service, to aid them in their work resettling refugees.  You can order your copy on Amazon.

undone by the Psalms

Tomorrow is (barring a snow day) the last session for my Psalms class at George Fox University.

The Psalms have undone us.

They have stripped us of pretense, caught us unawares, awoken our senses, and shocked us out of our numbness. They have invited us to do the unthinkable -- to say what we really think, and to say it straight to God.

Our mentors this semester have been Walter Brueggemann and John and Kathleen Goldingay, as well as each other. The Goldingays have helped us to think about how to read the Psalms -- even the ugly ones -- as Christians, and to read them boldly.

Brueggemann has opened up new ways of thinking about the Psalms in relation to the world we inhabit. He has repeatedly issued an invitation to name reality. From his perspective, the psalms are far from tame and tepid. They are unruly and dangerous.

Even though I've come to expect this language from Brueggemann, his writings on the praise psalms caught me off guard. Praise psalms are the ones I used to think were typical, predictably cheerful. But Brueggemann woke me from my readerly slumber, highlighting five things about praise in his book, From Whom No Secrets Are Hid: Introducing the Psalms:

"First, praise is an act of imagination, not description. It sees the world through the lens of faith and dares" to suppose that there is more than meets the eye (46, bold added).

"Second, hymns of praise are acts of devotion with political and polemic overtones. . . . The very act of praise itself envisions a new world, a different world, a world alternative to the one in front of us. Indeed, hymns of praise are acts of defiance of the world that is in front of us" (47, bold added). 

 "Third, the Psalms voice and are embedded in a larger narrative in which [Yahweh] is the key character and lively agent." This narrative is necessary to the act of praise. It is not vague and spiritual but particular and embodied. "Each generation [is invited] to be a continuing participant in that narrative" (47, bold added).

"Fourth, doxology is the exuberant abandonment of self over to God. . . . Our self-yielding praise is a measure of our capacity to give our lives over to God" (47-48, bold added).

"Fifth and last, the hymns of praise with their exuberant self-abandonment without reservation into the God of large and particular narratives are quite in contrast with what we currently call 'praise songs' . . . [which often constitute] not a ceding of self, but a pre-occupation with self and a private religious expression that lacks depth or breadth" (48, bold added). 

If we really catch hold of this we'll turn everything upside down.
To praise God as king of all the earth relativizes the power of any human ruler.
To praise God as redeemer recognizes both pain and rescue, bondage and freedom.
To praise God as creator acknowledges a personal power behind the beauty around us.
To praise God necessarily involves all of who I am, without pretense, without reservation.

Even here, even in the psalms I thought were business-as-usual, I am undone.

Do I dare to praise?

Do you?

Do we?

"Let everything that has breath praise the LORD.
Praise the LORD." (Psalm 150:6)

encountering the light of Christ

When you enter the doors of a new church, anything could happen. Churches with dwindling numbers are often surprised to see a new face, as the greeters were this morning to see me. But their warmth made me feel right at home.

A single ring of chairs stood empty around the center microphone on the circular platform, expectant. A Steinway occupied the far end of the circle, its melodies soaring to fill the sanctuary and encircling all of us.

Pews faced the middle. I sat in the second row, waiting, observing. I was early. In time, others came and found seats in the first few rows. I knew no one. I had been invited by the son-in-law of a member to speak during the Sunday school hour. That was my only earthly connection.

A pamphlet in the pew back explained how a Quaker-style service works. Quakers embrace silence as they embrace each other, welcoming the opportunity to listen and learn from the spirit of Christ in their midst. The unprogrammed quiet is a soothing balm in a hurried life.

A man rolled in on a motorized wheelchair, making his way to the front to greet another worshipper, and then me. Jerry refused to let his disability cripple his contribution to the warmth of the community. (I learned later that he was relatively new himself, and that the man he greeted was there for only the second time. Signs of life.)

As the service unfolded, I gathered that this was a grieving community, searching for direction, wondering how to respond faithfully to a series of events that left most of their pews empty. I wondered, then, if I should scrap my seminar on 'Understanding Biblical Prophecy' and speak instead about lament, or about how to be rooted in the face of life's storms (Psalm 1–2). How does one walk into a community and speak without first listening long? first loving and hearing?

In those quiet moments, I asked the Lord to guide me. By the time I reached the classroom after the service, I knew I should stick with my original topic and trust that God had guided my preparation. I suspected (rightly, I'm told) that Quakers typically camp out in the Gospels. That was my bridge to the prophets. How can one possibly understand the richness of the Gospels without an understanding of the Old Testament prophets? Spontaneously, I began in John 9, linking Jesus' miracle to Isaiah's commission in chapter 6. Then we moved into Isaiah 7 to examine verse 14, always a Christmas favorite. Both passages illustrate the value of reading the text closely for its historical, literary, and theological dimensions. They also illustrate the inherent dangers when we don't.

The hour flew by, followed by several follow-up conversations and a long lunch. I returned home with a full heart, grateful for the privilege of fellowship with other Christ-followers and grateful that I have the most wonderful subject matter in the world to teach -- God's Word -- which truly does not return void.

Encounters like this one are not accidental. God uses each personal connection in some way as we spur one another on to love and good deeds. A Quaker might say that the light of Christ within each of us illuminates the community as we gather. I'd say that pretty well sums up what happened today!

now what? (and other questions): life after dissertation

It's the inevitable question that follows the celebratory congratulations. Since I've been blessed with a wide-ranging support network, it's a question I'm asked just about every day by people who care.

So, yes, it feels amazing to be (almost) done!
Yes, it's a huge load off our shoulders, and the whole family is relieved.
Yes, I have a bit more freedom and flexibility now.

But no, I will not have a lot more free time. Here's why:

A Ph.D. is not the type of degree people earn for personal enrichment. As a matter of stewardship, the huge investment of time, mentoring, and other resources are designed to prepare the student for a lifetime of scholarship. Career-wise, like most of my colleagues, my hope is to be a college professor. I have already begun teaching at two schools, George Fox University in Newberg, Oregon, and Multnomah University in Portland. I love what I do. I'm very grateful for open doors. However, these "jobs" are a bit like being a "temp" worker (minus the agency). They pay very little (last spring my pay worked out to about $5/hour), with no benefits, and no guarantee of employment beyond the current semester. Semester by semester, each school will let me know if they need me to teach for them again. So while I love my work, I do not actually have a job yet.

In order to get a permanent position, I must demonstrate that I will be a contributing member of the campus as well as the scholarly community by staying abreast of current research, participating in campus events, investing in students outside of class, and achieving excellence in teaching (as measured by student evaluations). Diploma aside, without several scholarly publications and stellar teaching evaluations, no school is likely to consider hiring me. In today's educational environment, very few schools are hiring permanent ("tenure-track") faculty. Schools that do post positions are flooded with qualified applicants. To walk away from the library now would spell the end of my career.

Getting a PhD is a bit like becoming an MD. Your medical doctor did not stop studying when she graduated from medical school (thank goodness!). She reads medical journals, attends medical conferences, and even collaborates with other doctors to ensure quality care and accurate diagnoses for patients. Likewise, I cannot stop studying and writing. A professor who ceases to learn, ceases to teach.

And so my days are still full. These days I'm revising my dissertation (almost done!), prepping for class, grading student papers, and preparing for upcoming gigs:

In May I'll be presenting a paper at an academic meeting in Idaho (Northwest Regional Meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature) and serving as a respondent for a colleague's paper.
In June I'll be teaching a one-week intensive course on the Old Testament Prophets at Multnomah University.
In July I'll be filming brief lectures for an online course on the Prophets at Multnomah, to be offered beginning in October.
In late August I'll begin teaching 2 new courses on campus at George Fox (Exodus and Psalms) and another section of Prophets at Multnomah.

On top of this are the opportunities to invest in the church—speaking at a women's event in May in Dallas, Oregon, helping with VBS, and speaking at a women's retreat in September in Wisconsin—as well as finding a publisher for my dissertation and beginning work on my next research project.

All of these great opportunities require long, quiet, focused hours of preparation. Studying the Word, crafting a message or a lecture, preparing visual aids, and coordinating logistics. In fact, with 4 classes this fall (3 on two campuses and one online), I'll be teaching the equivalent of a full-time load. I expect to be just as busy as ever. But I'm not complaining.

That was the whole point of all this schooling.

From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded;

and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.

(Luke 12:48 NIV)

Now it is required that those who have been given a trust must prove faithful. 

(1 Corinthians 4:2 NIV) 

At the end of the race, may I be found faithful!

a scholar grows up

A paradigm shift. A coming-of-age of sorts.

In one week, three milestones:

1. A senior professor at Wheaton, known around the world, told me to call him by his first name.
2. A Wheaton student invited me to "Dine with a Mind." (This is Wheaton's meal benefit that encourages students to share a meal with their professors. Normally I am the student. That time, I was the "Mind.")
3. A Wheaton student asked me to fill our a reference form for a mission trip.

These milestones marked the beginning of my transition from student to teacher, a transition that is still not complete, though at least 2 years have elapsed since these events. But this week, more milestones:

1. A student at George Fox asks me to fill out a reference form for a summer job.
2. Two recently-published authors ask me to help them get the word out about their books.
3. A pastor asks me to go head to head with him in his Sunday School class, talking about Romans, ethnic Israel's future, and the nature of biblical theology.

Clearly, it's a new season. And I'm grateful!

learning to see

Two events, miles apart and so very different, linked hands in plain view, inviting me to consider them side by side.

The first, a memorial service. I had only met the man once in church before a dreadful disease took hold of his mind and dragged him on a downward spiral that ended this New Year's Day. I knew only the severity of his illness and saw the sorrow and courage of his wife as she came alone on Sundays. We connected briefly, the day I learned of his condition, and I held her in my heart for the ensuing weeks. When I heard of his death, I had to be there. For Char.

... for Dear Life (Photo: C Imes)

In that hour I learned volumes about the man whose rich life was cut short. An optometrist by profession, Don spent decades helping others to see. And on weekends? He explored the outdoors — camping, fishing, hunting, hiking — toting heavy camera lenses everywhere he went. Before the service started we were treated to a sampling of his award-winning work. He had such an eye for beauty! Butterflies up close, wildebeests crossing muddy rivers, birds in flight. Anyone can whip out a cell phone and snap a picture of nice scenery. It takes a special "eye" (and sophisticated equipment) to get the angle and the lighting and the aperture just right so that the picture comes alive. Don possessed that special sight.

From the service I headed directly to Newberg to teach my class on Wisdom Literature. The order of the day was understanding how Hebrew poetry works, especially proverbs. We began by discussing a chapter from Leland Ryken's Words of Delight: A Literary Introduction to the Bible. One student spoke up, "I really like how he related proverbs to photography. That's such an interesting way of thinking about it." Aha! Indeed, Ryken refers to these "wisdom teachers" as "the photographers of the Bible" (316, paraphrasing Robert Short, A Time to Be Born—A Time to Die).

And it's true, isn't it? The writers of proverbs have an extraordinary eye for ordinary things. They look at the same ship, the same busy street, the same plants, but they see beyond the surface, making connections that enlighten our minds and dazzle our ears. Here's a glimpse through the eyes of a sage:

"The LORD tears down the house of the proud,
but he sets the widow's boundary stones in place." (Proverbs 15:25)

The images evoked by this proverb, chosen at random, are so vivid! See Yahweh himself, muscles gleaming in the hot Mediterranean sun, as he demolishes a stone house. See him cross the field with stone after plaster-crusted stone and place each deliberately as a boundary, while the grateful widow looks on, tears streaming down her face. See the proud man with arms crossed and furrowed brow, sputtering frustration, but unable to defend himself.

The sage could have said, "It is inadvisable to be proud" and "You should not take advantage of the poor." But here instead we have a living image, painted in words, that joins both ideas. Yahweh himself takes action. We watch him at work. We stand at the sidelines feeling chastened or grateful or energized -- depending on the state of our own hearts.

Captured Alive (Photo: C Imes)

And as we seek to understand this picture in words, we begin to see what the wise one sees. We are overtaken by wonder.

More than one person at the memorial service told us that they had one of Don's stunning pictures on display at home. They were grateful to have been given his eyes, to experience his love of creation, and to have had their own wonder awakened. Don, a modern sage, helped others to see the wisdom and beauty of God's handiwork.

Ironically, in the final months of his life, Don's eyesight faded until he was completely blind. His caregiver spoke about the doctor's blindness. As he lost physical sight, he began to experience vivid visions of glory. He would take the hands of those around him and ask, "Do you see it? Do you see Jesus in all of his glory?" Don was learning to see in other dimensions, and his faith grew in leaps and bounds over those dark weeks and months. The eye doctor who possessed such extraordinary vision in this life far preferred his new-found spiritual sight.

May we, too, learn to see.

leaning in

I had heard about the book a while back. All good things. It seemed like the kind of book that could illuminate my journey as a woman in academia. But the dissertation didn't leave much time for extra reading, so I tucked away the idea for a rainy day.

Months elapsed. A year or two, maybe.

In December, after turning in another revised draft of my dissertation, I decided it was time. Thanks to its popularity, it was easy to find Lean In at the public library. Some of you will chuckle that I found time to read a book by the COO of Facebook before I found time to actually join Facebook. I know. That's so like me. (However, I did finally join Facebook last week, so feel free to send me a friend request if you'd like!)

It's not supposed to be a self-help book, but I found it tremendously helpful. It's not exactly Sandberg's autobiography either, but she opens up the windows of her life and lets us all look in. How does a woman lead well? How can she balance family and career? How can she navigate a man's world without losing her femininity? (It turns out that Evangelicals are not the only ones wondering about this!) Sandberg's big idea, the one she comes back to again and again, is that women need to lean in to the opportunities in front of them. Yes, sometimes women are overlooked, at a disadvantage because of our gender, hitting glass ceilings. But Sandberg says women often sabotage our own success by holding back. We are hesitant to walk through an open door because we aren't sure how we'll manage everything on the other side. Women regularly turn down opportunities well before it's necessary (e.g., a single woman avoiding a promotion because she imagines it will interfere with her future role as wife and mother). At Google and Facebook, Sandberg has observed this time and again.

There is certainly a time for "no." But saying "no" enables us to say "yes" when the time is right.

That time came for me sooner than we expected. I was ready to lean in. Actively praying about how God would have me serve now that I'm coming to the end of my PhD. Circling that topic in prayer. But my spring semester was still relatively open. On a fluke, Multnomah didn't need me. Aside from putting the finishing touches on my dissertation and defending it, I thought I might try to publish an article or two. Maybe paint some interior trim or catch up on the family scrapbook.

Then the phone rang.

The department chair from George Fox. Wondering if I could possibly teach a class . . . immediately. One of their adjunct instructors had backed out at the last minute, leaving him with a slot to fill. School starts next week. It's not an accident that he thought of me. I've been in touch with him for over 2 years, hoping that someday something like this would develop. It didn't take us long to decide. Danny and I had both been feeling that now was the time for "yes." I was eager to lean in. For four long days I crafted a syllabus, putting on the finishing touches yesterday.

Then, this morning in church, we sang a song that harnessed Sandberg's thesis in service of our ultimate purpose as believers: worship. The lyrics jumped off the screen. Written just for me. Exquisitely timed.

Spirit of the Living God

Spirit of the Living God

We only want to hear your voice

We're hanging on every word. 

Spirit of the Living God

Spirit of the Living God

We're leaning in to who you are

Everything else can wait.

After all, it's possible to lean in to the wrong thing, at the wrong time, for the wrong reasons. Leaning in will only bring life when our deepest desires are shaped by worship.

Yes, lean in. But not just in any direction. Lean in to HIM. Let him transform your desires until the thing you want is the thing He wants.

"Take delight in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart." (Psalm 37:4)

The song continues . . .

When you come in the room

When you do what only you can do

It changes what we see and what we seek.*

This week I'm soaking in the grace of fulfilled desires. The "thing" itself pales in comparison to the presence of the Living God who has acted, and continues to act, on my behalf. 

May 2016 be a year of leaning in. Not to earthly success. But leaning in to the presence of God and embracing all He has planned. Everything else can wait.

*Vertical Church Band c.2015