?

Lately, I've been wondering: Is there no room for doubt and disbelief in Christianity today?
It is an unsettling question, but it is one that has permeated this college experience.

Star Screaming

Don't let the title deceive. There is far too much emotion packed in those two words; I may be falsely advertising.

I keep insisting that there is much for which to be thankful. Too much. Recognition is not the problem. I can be happy for other people regardless of whether or not I am happy for myself.

But about the latter, I am not. Perhaps I sin in feeling thus.

Did you ever walk alone at night spurning the same stars that you, just yesterday, longed to embrace? The curses you yell are not those that come in sound but in brain waves. These are frequencies that no one else can hear, that one else wants to hear, especially yourself.

So I wrap myself, comfort myself in silence. At least that's what I want to call it. Of course, it's not.

I want to care about others, but it is difficult. I don't care that this person has this test or that deadline, this struggle or that pain--"get over it," I think to myself. Because that's what I need to do. But I can't.

There is a lot of negativity in my statements. I am obsessed with what I cannot, won't, have not done. Even reproducing words creates a sea of pessimism.

Raymond continues to call me. He seems to be the typhoon of optimism. "Have your best day yet" his answering machine says.

Aunt Grace once reprimanded me for being overly uncertain. That's a nice way of putting it. I will grant that she was right. Ah, but it is so hard.

I would like nothing more than to have another not only understand me but in one stroke push me onward, backward, or perhaps straight into the ground. It's not a morbid thought at all--quite reassuring.

The bottom line, for now, is that I spurn the gradients in my life--it is the curse of being imperfectly well-rounded, deficiently one-sided.
Just as grades cannot possibly be the only indicator of interest, vocation or calling, so too would I argue that constantly pursuing studies in an area that is superficially interesting but empty to my soul is just as vaporous.

Do I see myself in the projects of France? In the pulpit of a church? In a chair at the office?

Too many questions for tonight.

Let me pray more yet.

Generational Gaps

I was recently talking to a friend about how most Intervarsity staff workers tend to be no more than five to seven years older than us. I will acknowledge that this age differential makes relating a quicker process, but I also realize that it makes it very difficult for me to look up to these people as older, wiser spiritual mentors. Thank God that many of these people came to know Christ in college and I am grateful for the sacrifices that have been made for the sake of college students. However, it makes me slightly uneasy when I think about how these people are thrust into fairly influential positions of leadership without having had that much time to grow in their faith.

I'm not saying that age is equivalent to maturity or that spiritual wisdom is correlated to years being a Christian (though that would be the hope, right?). There's no black and white line here, but I do think there its fair to say that those that have been in the faith longer, by the grace of God, develop a wiser understanding of life that can be imparted to the younger.

And from my own perspective, it's astounding how reluctant I am, at times, to share with my parents when it comes to spiritual issues. I don't know if this is because Chinese parents have placed so much emphasis on being well-behaved and good students that it is strange for me to think of them as spiritual mentors. Even with dating, I can't think of too many of my Chinese friends discussing relationship issues with their parents.

A friend of mine once bemoaned about Chinese parents' inadequacies when it came to relating with the younger generations. I think there's something to that though I am currently unsure of the extent of this. What I do realize is that I find myself yearning for to have older spiritual guidance (and I'm not even just talking about the pastor) that complements and directs the immediate relations that I have with peers. The church is a body consisting of all generations--the older directing the younger in the ways of the Lord and both pursuing the life of faithfulness.

Student Life, Newspapers, and Community

I realize that after four years of blasting WU's school newspaper for their tabloid, sensationalist tendencies and inexcusably poor writing, I still wonder: Why bother with this travesty of a journalistic endeavor?

Notions of civil society, hegemony, and power jump to mind due to the nature of a paper I need to complete by Wednesday but, for everyone's sake, I pass them by for another thought.

School newspapers like Student Life record everyday events in the hope to capture what has been colloquially called, "the pulse" of the campus. Friends do this often. The mere knowing of a buddy's silly quirks, airy whines, and busy schedule often speaks to the degree to which these trivial items matter to you, how much this friend means to you. This is a part of community. Who cares how ineloquent you sound describing your day, how much you exaggerate a particular incident to the delight of your friends' insatiable appetite for juicy details, or how tomorrow's events will most likely overshadow the clutter you've accumulated from previous days?

So Student Life strives to strike a personal tone through an impersonal medium. The tri-weekly production becomes an endeavor of creating cohesion in a "diverse" student body. Sounds honorable enough.

But what really happens instead? Students nab a copy before their General Chemistry lecture, during their lunch break and proceed to skim the pages for something that screams out from the nondescript black and gray. They become consumers of other people's lives, thriving on words such as "giant explosion" and "gigantic burst." We are all guilty of such voyeurism. And then what? We quickly scan for other events that interest us in the editorials, the photos, the sodoku.

And of course we don't really receive all the information. We just get fragments of the selected stories we do choose to read; the headlines become an admissions committee. Of course we'd never really capture everything even if we wanted. Student Life isn't about to send its tentacles to every nook and cranny of the campus and we're not about to investigate ourselves why Bear's Den pasta tastes so awful. And that's a good thing.

"Just give us enough to wet our palates," we say. Then we can move on. Like a friend saying, "Tell me what happened, but keep the details to yourself so that I can get back to my business." A community of consumers.

If you want to know how a friend is doing, there's a phone, an email, or, better yet, an actual visit. And in these situations, details matter, headlines don't, and best of all, bad writing isn't really an issue. But to be fair to this whole situation, the attempt to build a community is both understandable and admirable. The difficult part is establishing a basis on which you can build it, and an equal, if not more difficult, challenge is the process of fighting to develop this community. I say to myself, "I know what it ought to look like," and yet I know there are times where I am stingier than I ought to be when it comes to paying the price.