The Finesse of Finals
The words place themselves neatly in a row: I have just finished another class. It conveys the message, but will never do justice to the feeling of celebration that accompanies it. "I AM DONE WITH THIS CLASS!" better captures the emotion I'm experiencing, but still doesn't contain it all.
I could be studying, I have another final looming over me, taunting me with dreams of summer that must be patiently put away for now. But you know what? I've realized that what I need to be doing right now, which is exactly what I'm going to do, is take this moment's joy and experience it. Acknowledge the pride of finishing classes, the relief of turning in papers, the satisfaction of walking out of the classroom with no intentions of revisiting it any time soon. That's an occasion worth celebrating, not disregarding. Yes, I still have to study today; I still have other obligations demanding my diligence, but why shouldn't I take the same amount of effort I spend studying and interject it into my celebrating? Neither should gain an advantage over my awareness. I'm going to experience them equally, as much as is possible.
I'm reminded that the good things deserve as much if not more attention than the difficult things. I, for one, often spend more time worrying, labeling, and lamenting than surrendering, loving, and celebrating. Even in my relationships I've noticed a preference to acknowledge the bad things over the good things. It's easy to say "at least now I know they're human" when I witness another person fail. When I am confronted with sin and imperfection, I call it human. Why should it be that I don't also label the good things I see others pursuing with the same fervor? When I witness someone sacrificially love, shouldn't I be quick to say, "at least now I know they're human?" The goodness in us (not to ignore the bad) should strike us as part of being human (of being made in the image of God and) just as much as our sin nature. Humanity doesn't just have sin in common; we have empathy, compassion, love, and selflessness. I believe these characteristics are part of being human, not just being Christian, because I've experienced them shown to me by non-Christians. Humans in general surprise me with both the depths of their fallenness and the heights of their love; again, this is part of being made in the image of God: a ubiquitous ability.
It's from acknowledging both rebellion and compassion as natural tendencies that I begin to see my need for God completely. Without God, I cannot show love without selfishness; and even if I somehow manage for a time to have "pure" human love, I cannot sustain it. Amazingly, God's love is both perfectly unconditional and infinitely inexhaustible. I don't really know how to hash the rest of this out, but I know that I'm interested in finding the balance between praise and judgment. I'm interested in seeing someone do something good and being able to say, "they're human" as well as acknowledging the pervasive brokenness of the human condition.
It's difficult to live a life, a day, a moment, in which triumph and failure intermingle. Yet, each of us do so for the majority of our lives. If either extreme holds my attention, I have missed what it means to be fully human. If I focus on all of my triumphs and refuse to see my failure, I am predisposing myself toward self-deceptive pride. On the other hand, if I let my failures choke out the triumphs I have experienced, I predispose myself to unwavering despair. If I can choose to see areas of my humanity (the potential for good and bad) I can fully celebrate my victories in Christ, in fellowship with the people who've supported me; I can also faithfully confess my shortcomings to God, and to the people I've hurt.
I could be studying, I have another final looming over me, taunting me with dreams of summer that must be patiently put away for now. But you know what? I've realized that what I need to be doing right now, which is exactly what I'm going to do, is take this moment's joy and experience it. Acknowledge the pride of finishing classes, the relief of turning in papers, the satisfaction of walking out of the classroom with no intentions of revisiting it any time soon. That's an occasion worth celebrating, not disregarding. Yes, I still have to study today; I still have other obligations demanding my diligence, but why shouldn't I take the same amount of effort I spend studying and interject it into my celebrating? Neither should gain an advantage over my awareness. I'm going to experience them equally, as much as is possible.
I'm reminded that the good things deserve as much if not more attention than the difficult things. I, for one, often spend more time worrying, labeling, and lamenting than surrendering, loving, and celebrating. Even in my relationships I've noticed a preference to acknowledge the bad things over the good things. It's easy to say "at least now I know they're human" when I witness another person fail. When I am confronted with sin and imperfection, I call it human. Why should it be that I don't also label the good things I see others pursuing with the same fervor? When I witness someone sacrificially love, shouldn't I be quick to say, "at least now I know they're human?" The goodness in us (not to ignore the bad) should strike us as part of being human (of being made in the image of God and) just as much as our sin nature. Humanity doesn't just have sin in common; we have empathy, compassion, love, and selflessness. I believe these characteristics are part of being human, not just being Christian, because I've experienced them shown to me by non-Christians. Humans in general surprise me with both the depths of their fallenness and the heights of their love; again, this is part of being made in the image of God: a ubiquitous ability.
It's from acknowledging both rebellion and compassion as natural tendencies that I begin to see my need for God completely. Without God, I cannot show love without selfishness; and even if I somehow manage for a time to have "pure" human love, I cannot sustain it. Amazingly, God's love is both perfectly unconditional and infinitely inexhaustible. I don't really know how to hash the rest of this out, but I know that I'm interested in finding the balance between praise and judgment. I'm interested in seeing someone do something good and being able to say, "they're human" as well as acknowledging the pervasive brokenness of the human condition.
It's difficult to live a life, a day, a moment, in which triumph and failure intermingle. Yet, each of us do so for the majority of our lives. If either extreme holds my attention, I have missed what it means to be fully human. If I focus on all of my triumphs and refuse to see my failure, I am predisposing myself toward self-deceptive pride. On the other hand, if I let my failures choke out the triumphs I have experienced, I predispose myself to unwavering despair. If I can choose to see areas of my humanity (the potential for good and bad) I can fully celebrate my victories in Christ, in fellowship with the people who've supported me; I can also faithfully confess my shortcomings to God, and to the people I've hurt.
Congratulations!!
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