The Agony of God

I got the chance last week to visit the Abbey of Gethsemani in "Trappist," Kentucky. This was the monastery of Thomas Merton. It was the location of his hermitage and his only escape. If you don't know the work of Merton, I encourage you to find it. It is worth digesting. As with most monasteries, the brothers encouraged me to wander the grounds with its woods, lakes, streams; to pray; and to "store up some silence" so that I could spend a little each day when I go back to my world.

Though I couldn't visit Merton's hermitage (it was being used as a retreat for a brother), I desperately wanted to see the "statues." My first attempt to find the statues was a failure, but after talking to Bro. Seamus, I got directions (and a walking map), and set out again. It was quite a walk on a winding path through the woods. As I walked, listening to the sounds of the jar flies and crickets, I was immediately transported to my childhood when I would tromp through the woods near my grandparent's house. It was a soul filling time, and I felt my stores of "silence" begin to fill up a little.

Finally, I reached the statues. A nearby plaque lets the pilgrim know the history of the statues. In 1965, a twenty-six year old Episcopalean seminarian from New Hampshire named Jonathan Daniels went to Alabama to aid in the civil rights movement. He was killed in August of 1965 by white supremacists. The statues depict the Garden of Gethsemane and remember his martyrdom.

The statues are impressive. You first encounter the life-size representations of the disciples sleeping. Then after about 20 more yards, you find Jesus praying in the garden. I have often been troubled by common representations of Jesus in the Garden. Too often, we see a Jesus serenely looking to heaven, at peace with the road that leads to the cross. Yet in Matthew, Jesus told the disciples in the Garden, "My soul is very sorrowful, even to death." The Jesus of the Abbey of Gethsemani doesn't suffer the common misrepresentation. The artist brilliantly conveys the agony of Christ in the Garden while the disciples sleep. You can see the sorrow of Jesus in that place.

I sat there looking at the statue and pondering the night before Jesus was crucified. I thought about the disciples. I thought about Jesus. I thought about the difficulty of walking a road that you know God has called you to—even when you don't want to. It was a nice moment of reflection.

Then something happened that I didn't anticipate. I sat there looking at the agony of Jesus, and I remembered the reason for this garden. I thought of that martyred young man—killed because he believed that everyone is created in the image of God and everyone deserves respect because of that. I thought of that injustice, and I saw Christ in agony over that—and the disciples are still sleeping. Of course, immediately, I came under conviction. How many injustices—how much sorrow is in this world? How often am I sleeping through it? The Sudan—Zimbabwe—or the hungry in my town—how often is God in agony over their suffering? How often am I sleeping right nearby?

Nicholas Wolterstorff hypothesized in his book, Lament for a Son, that the reason no one can look on the face of God is because no one could bear the agony on the face of the divine as God looked on this world. Sitting in that remembrance of the Garden, I felt the tears of God for this world. I pray that I do a better job staying awake and crying some of my own.

Different Views of the World

A few weeks ago, I got the chance to have dinner at the Norwegian embassy in Washington, D.C. It was a lovely evening. The ambassador and his wife hosted a group of International Educators in their residence, and they were gracious hosts. The residence was decorated with objects which represented the best of Norway. There was a very old Norwegian Bible on the table (the ambassador's wife is an ordained Lutheran minister). There were pictures of the King and Queen of Norway. What was most interesting to me, however, was the artwork. He had several pieces by Edvard Munch. Munch is probably most famous for his work "The Scream."

The works in the embassy were even more troubling than "The Scream," if possible. They were all self-portraits, and the artist was obviously in various states of despair while women were depicted as the cause of his problems. As I was looking at the works in the drawing room, the ambassador came up behind me and said, "He was insane, you know." I said, "Really?" He said, "Oh yes, he also had serious problems with women . . . obviously . . . in fact, twice in his life, women tried to kill him." He then instructed me to make sure and see the works by his student. Apparently, Munch had only one student. There was only one individual that he could tolerate, to whom he taught his technique.

I walked over to the works by Munch's student, and I was immediately taken aback. Where Munch's pictures were tormented, his student's were serene. There was a lovely picture of a lagoon with sailboats and a peaceful picture of the Norwegian landscape (naturally featuring a fjord). I was immediately amazed. How could the one person this deeply tormented man tolerated have a vision of the world which was so different from his mentor? As I was standing there, marveling at the disjunction, the ambassador came up and said, "See, he has the same technique." I could only reply, "Wow."

To be honest, I couldn't tell whether he had the same technique or not. I will trust individuals more educated than I to speak to that. I do know that they saw very different worlds when they looked out their window, and I found myself hoping for the ability of Munch's student. I pray that I am able to learn from those who went before and by the grace of God transform that ability into something which brings peace . . . rather than despair. Of course, despair is a part of this world as well, but that is a different entry . . .

Memory Lane

I just got back from Washington, D.C. last week after attending a conference on international education. While I was there, I called a friend of mine that I hadn't seen in a while . . . and when I say a while, I really mean it. I saw him a year and a half ago for five minutes and prior to that, it was over 17 years ago. To fully appreciate this lunch, you really have to understand what my life looked like 17 years ago.

I was completely without direction. I was undisciplined and unmotivated. I was getting ready to leave Purdue (partly at my choice and partly at Purdue's). My father's dream of my being a rich engineer was lying in ashes, and I had no idea what I was going to do with my life. I was battling my second bout with clinical depression, and it looked like the best I would be able to accomplish with my life . . . my dream goal . . . would be management training school at a fast food restaurant (which if that is what you love is a wonderful goal . . . let's just say, it wasn't what I loved). My first true love had just dumped me (on the phone after I moved her to an internship), and I felt as though I had no prospects and no future. Certainly, I would never reach all that "potential" that so many had told me that I had over the years.

Now, nearly two decades years later, Greg comes back into my life to discover that I am actually, "Dr. Robert Wallace." I am happily married with two wonderful children.

As I sat there reminiscing with Greg—laughing nearly to the point of tears as we remembered the good times—I couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the course my life has taken. Think about those people who only knew the you from 10 or 20 years ago. What would they think now? That same guy, for whom the high point of the day was Mutant Ping Pong in the BSU basement nearly two decades ago, was representing Shorter College and having dinner at the Norwegian Embassy on last Wednesday night. It really strained belief as I thought about it.

After our great lunch, I began to think about what "Dr. Wallace" might tell that amazing Mutant Ping Pong player of 17 years ago. As I look back, I see plenty of areas which need improvement. It would be difficult to pick just a few bits of advice to give. I look back and see wasted opportunities and mistakes, and I am tempted to want to rewrite history—change the course of my life. I want to pull on those loose threads to make the tapestry of my life look neater.

But, I also remember that I like who I am now, and who I am now is connected to who I was then. If I pulled on those loose threads, I might discover that I those threads are connected to more than I bargained for.

Still, I think I would like to give Rob of 17 years ago some advice. I think I would say the same thing to that Rob that I try (and will try) to say to my children, "Have the courage to make the hard decisions. Follow the call of God no matter how crazy it seems. Savor each moment of each day because it will never come again."

Of course, if there had been a Mutant Ping Pong Professional League, I would have said to leave for the pros years ago . . .

Updates from Jordan

Here are the daily updates that I sent the PR office while I was in Jordan. These can also be read (and the pictures viewed) at http://www.shorter.edu/

May 8

Things have gone safely and smoothly. Jordan is nice. It is not quite as Western as Israel (though as I say that I am looking out the window at a KFC and Fuddruckers), but the people are very friendly. I think I would say that it feels more relaxed than Israel.

I haven't done much touring yet, but I did get to the Jordanian Antiquities Museum yesterday. I got to see the Copper Scroll and some other cool things. I had heard that the Hezekiah's Tunnel Inscription was there, but I couldn't find it. You know some people believe this is the first area that Paul ever preached in. In Galatians he talks about going to Arabia for several years. Some think that this is the part he went to.

The program here has earned a great deal of respect in the Amman community. They teach and evaluate Arabic for a number of individuals and businesses in the area. Philadelphia University here in Amman accredits the academic program, but it is Fred and his staff that make it a going concern. The opportunity for students to get 12 hours of Arabic (both spoken and written) out in one summer is very impressive. They do some classroom work in the mornings and use their Arabic in the afternoons. It really does feel like this would be preparing our students for the world as it is rather than as it was. Mandarin and Arabic are two of the fastest growing languages today. If we want our students to be in good position for jobs, I think we need to continue to investigate programs like this. And, besides, it is hard to love our neighbor when we can't speak to our neighbor.

Once again this trip has reinforced the idea that people are people everywhere. Children laugh and play. And we all have five fingers as the nice man in Jericho reminded us. Sitting in this place and with these people it just eludes me why we can't find peace in this world.

I can send some pictures when I start touring more earnestly. In the meantime, I am attaching a photo of the Temple of Hercules in Amman. Probably around the second century AD. It is also located on the spot that David and Israel may have been fighting for when he had Uriah killed (so that he could have Bathsheba). Remember this area is the region of the Ammonites, which is after all where Amman gets its name.

May 9

I had a breakthrough today. For years I had heard Arabs use the phrase "I love Americans. I hate your government," and I never really understood it. I am finally beginning to understand. In most Arab countries, the government is invested in one person. In the case of Jordan, a king. The people have no say in government policies and programs. The king makes the decisions. Viewing the West with that eye, it is easy to divorce people and government and "love Americans and hate the American government." Having a government "of the people, by the people and for the people" is an alien concept.

Unfortunately, while Americans benefit from Arab naiveté, Arabs suffer from American naiveté. We look to the Middle East and assume that all Arabs reflect the policies of Arab government and extremist groups. I think unconsciously (I hope unconsciously), we assume that the actions of a few with power reflect the feelings of the majority.

I suppose the realization of that has let me feel even safer in this place. Remembering that people are people everywhere. Most people are decent, hard-working individuals who love their family and love to make new friends. Some are open and friendly. Some are rude. It doesn't matter if you are in Rome, Ga., or Amman, Jordan—people are people.

Stereotypes are hard things to lose, especially when you don't even realize you are doing it. I suppose that is why study abroad is so important for our students. It is really only away from home that you can truly see yourself. Once you are away from a culture that shares your perspective, you can better see what you believe. Sometimes it isn't pretty. Maybe these trips can help remind us that every individual is created in the image of God and is loved by the divine.

BTW, the photo with food is at a Yemeni restaurant. The food was glorious. You tear off a piece of bread and then pick up some "laham marroum" which tastes like sloppy joes with onions and tomatoes. Yumm. The students in the photo are from California Baptist University.

May 10

Today the group went out to see the baptismal site of Jesus. This was Bethany "on the other side" of the Jordan River. So, the Jordanians can lay claim to the best location for the site. This site was venerated back before the fifth century AD, so this site has a lot of history on its side. As you look at the picture, you can see that at this place, I am standing about 15 feet from Israel.

Jordan's banks aren't so stormy these days. Even as late as 1967, the Jordan River was 50-75 feet across. Now, with Syria, Israel and Lebanon using the sources upstream, you can see the trickle that the Jordan has become here, near the entrance to the Dead Sea.

It made me think about our consumption and the recent drought we faced in Georgia. We have seen wars fought over oil, but I am certain in the very near future we will see wars fought over water (hopefully, not between Georgia, Tennessee and Alabama). It has made me ask myself a couple of questions. Am I a good steward of God's gifts to me? Or, do I waste?

I think sometimes I do pretty well. After all, I turn off the water to brush my teeth and during my shave. But, I do waste a lot as well. I might stay in a shower too long or forget and leave the water hose on. But, I as have experienced this VERY thirsty land in Jordan, I hope I am more keenly aware of the gifts that God has given me, and I am a worthy steward of them.

May 11

Well, I attended my local Baptist church today. I decided to attend one of the local mega-Baptist churches. There were about 25 people in the worship service today. This is one of the larger congregations. They have eight worship services during the week, so the congregation is really about 150-200. Also, since Sunday is a workday in Jordan (not a day of rest), it would be as though I went to church on a Monday from 10 a.m. - noon.

The service was beautiful. They sang songs. Men and women prayed from their hearts. The sermon was passionate and challenging. Of course, it was all in Arabic, and I understood about five total words in the service (thankfully, they used those five words several times). I truly understood what it means to "join our hearts" in worship. Though I didn't understand the words, their love and hospitality was evident.

Of the 5.5 million people in Jordan, only about 6,000-7,000 are evangelical Christians. These Christians memorize scripture because they don't know if there will come a time when they can't have a Bible. They want to own church buildings (not just rent) because it is easy to close down a rented church, and they want their congregation to endure. They are Christians in a land that is hostile to them – where secret police roam college campuses to make sure no one is evangelizing, and pastors are hauled into police stations to answer questions about evangelism.

Somehow my faith seemed small sitting in worship with them today.

May 12

It seems fitting with the new Indiana Jones movie coming out that we should visit Petra today (site of the climax of the last Indiana Jones movie). Indiana Jones fans will want to know that I was inside the Divine Treasury at Petra (in one of my photos), and there was no knight, no booby traps, and no Holy Grail. There were, however, lots of tourists. Petra is Jordan's no. 1 tourist destination and a wonder of the world.

After spending the day there, I can safely say that it is everything it is cracked up to be. Imagine a city carved out of the rock faces. If you look closely at the picture, you might notice that this building was not "built." It was carved. This is a giant sculpture to look like a built building. There are facades like this all over the site.

I also rode a donkey up to the Edomite high place (also one of my photos). I don't think I will ever read the book of Obadiah the same again. This was the region of the Edomites, who "hid in the rocky places." It was an experience I won't soon forget.

The trip is almost over, and I can say that I have learned a great deal about this country and its wonderful people. The standard conversation in every taxi cab is:

"Where are you from?"
"America."
"America! Oh, welcome, welcome."

Jordanians are a hospitable and gracious people.

I may be able to squeeze in one more update before I get on a plane. I look forward to seeing family, but I will miss these new friends. I can't wait for students to meet (and learn to speak to) these people.

May 13

Well, my time here has come to a close, and I am getting on a plane in a few hours. It would probably be helpful for me to review a little of what I have learned this week.

I have learned:

- A few necessary Arabic phrases
- The CGE (Consortium for Global Education) program here offers exceptional Arabic instruction.
- The leaders of the CGE program here are good people who care a great deal about the students and Jordan.
- The Jordanian people are hospitable and friendly. They love Americans and go out of their way to be helpful.
- Jordan is the safest country I have ever visited.
- Christians in Jordan are a loving, welcoming people with a faith that I look up to.

When you consider over 300,000,000 people speak Arabic, the importance of this program seems obvious. If we are truly committed to excellence in education, we need to prepare our students for the world as it exists. If we are truly committed to be Christians in the world, what better way to show love for our neighbor than having respect enough to speak our neighbor's language.

I look forward to coming home and seeing my friends and family.

Until then,
Robert

‘Twas the Night before Graduation

After several requests, here is the poem I wrote for the baccalaureate service.

'Twas the Night before Graduation, by Robert Wallace

 

Twas the night before graduation and all through the school,

Some students were packing and acting like fools,

The graduates were nestled all snug in their beds

while dreams of diplomas danced through their heads.

Where professors in regalia and Tam-o-shanter hats

just pray and hope the speeches aren't flat.

 

But just before bed, they had all said their prayers

Because some of them still had a touch of despair

For years now they had labored, with no end in sight

But, this year they graduate. They really just might!

They no longer cared about becoming wise or sage

Now it only mattered to get across that stage.

 

They prayed that Steve Sheeley and all of his staff

would find them all worthy and not simply laugh

when they looked at the transcript they had amassed.

Surely they wouldn't make me take just one more class.

"Dear Lord," they would pray, "Heed this prayer of mine,

Don't let Dr. Sheeley pull me out of the line."

 

So they went on to bed with anxiety and doubt

Just hoping and praying that all had worked out.

 

But what they didn't know was that faculty pray too.

They pray something else before they bid you adieu

And, despite what you think, some prayers are quite sad,

As we begin to think of you new Shorter grads.

 

We pray you'll be faithful, and truly fulfilled

We pray you keep working and improving your skills

We pray you savor each day that you find

In this world that can so often be so unkind.

 

We pray you know love, and that whatever you do,

You'll always love others with love God gave you.

Worship wars

I am tired of the worship wars, and I am tired of them on both sides. I am tired of positions that are fundamentally idolatrous. On the one side of the debate, we seem to have people who believe that God cannot and will not appear if drums are on the stage. On the other side, we seem to have people who believe that God cannot and will not appear unless there are drums on the stage. If I were God, I would give up on ALL of them (yet one more in the list of reasons that we are all thankful I am not God). We make these arguments as though we have control on the appearing of God. How arrogant and how idolatrous.

From the biblical perspective, worship is what happens when individuals encounter the presence of God. The church when it gathers as a community represents a miracle of incarnation. We are the body of Christ! Just as Christ was 100% divine and 100% human, the church is at the same time a body of believers and the body of Christ. It seems unfortunate that the 100% human side seems to show so often. Divisiveness and personality conflicts supplant ministry and supplant true worship.

The church needs to ask itself what it can do to manifest the divine to the world, so that worship might actually take place. This change in focus would be pretty healthy. Moving the discussion from "What do I need to experience God" to "What can I do for you to experience God" would seem to be the more biblical perspective. It would be particularly nice if the "you" in that sentence referred to the "least of these."

I am sure the crowds were drawn to Jesus because of his Sandy Creek traditional worship. No wait, I am sure people were drawn to Jesus because of his electric guitar. No wait, people were drawn to Jesus because Jesus loved them. He loved the "least of these." There were people who had no hope and no help from anywhere in the world. Jesus said, "You are of value to me."

People will come to a church when they feel loved. People will come when they find a community that loves them. Part of loving them is giving them a way to experience God, and that is done differently for different people in different places.

So, the challenge is to be like Jesus. Maybe we would move beyond "3 points and a poem" and "hymnbooks vs. overheads" to a relevant expression of Christ to the world. If we aren't willing to do this, the only difference between churches of America and the empty cathedrals of Europe will be that the cathedrals are prettier and already paid for.

 

Tale of Two Birthdays

This time of year, I always reflect on the events that surrounded my hiring at Shorter College. This water into wine miracle is worth sharing. So . . .

It was the worst of times. It was the best of times. It was Monday, April 4, 2005, Rob Nash's birthday. "Meet about the position," he said in his email. Since I had been ABD, I had applied to every open Biblical Studies position in the country. Now . . . miraculously . . . providentially . . . a position had opened at Shorter College, and I was on the short list.

I drove over to Shorter anxiously . . . growing more anxious as I went. After all, the rule is "good news you can phone, but bad news you would want to give in person." I quickly dismissed the thought, "No, I was just being negative."

Think of the advantage I had over the other candidates. I had taught here for two semesters as an adjunct. I had 6 years of adjunct teaching experience at three institutions. I had become friends with the people in the department. The stars have lined up. After a half dozen short lists, if I don't get this position, what position will I get?

To calm my nerves, I decided to turn on some music. I put in my classic rock MP3 CD and hit "random." Seven hundred megabytes of songs to calm my nerves.

The first song began to play . . . CCR began to sing, "I see a bad moon rising . . ." Quickly, I hit the button again . . . that wasn't helping. Second song . . . the Beatles, "Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away. . ." Okay, not funny anymore. Next. Ben E. King, "When the night has come and the land is dark and the moon is the only light you see." Next. Brook Benton, "Rainy Night in Georgia." Next. James Taylor begins to sing, "When you are down and troubled, and you need a helping hand, and nothing . . . oh, nothing is going right." Looking back, I wish I had continued the exercise to see how long my CD player would mock me. But, needing Imodium now more than when I started the process, I turned off the radio.

I parked and went to Rob's office. We went in, and I sat down.

Rob took a deep breath and said, "Well . . . we have decided to offer the job to the other candidate."

I don't think he ACTUALLY kicked me in the stomach. But, things are kinda blurry after that. I remember responding with, "Well, (long pause) . . . dang."

Rob said, "There is really no way in the world that this doesn't stink. You have become part of the family here. I am really sorry, and I will do all I can to help. I will happily write recommendations if you need them."

"Thanks," I remember saying meekly.

Rob continued trying to soften the blow, "I wish I could say that there was something you could have done better or something you did wrong. . . It really is just that in light of the department's need for denominational diversity right now, the other candidate is the better choice."

"I understand," I replied.

Rob continued, "I wish that we could hire both of you. I am very sorry."

So, I left the campus feeling like I had let my family down. I went home and shared the news with my wife. Like Deborah of the Old Testament, Cindy is a "fiery woman." Now, someone she loved was hurting, and she was ready to storm the Bastille.

"Please. Please don't do anything I am going to have to apologize for later," I said to calm her down. "I just want to go to class tomorrow and try to move on."

"GO TO CLASS TOMORROW!" She said incredulously. "Just cancel class and take the day. I think they would understand."

"If I had gotten this position, I hope I would have accepted it with graciousness. Now that I didn't, I hope I can still be gracious. I am going to meet with my students tomorrow and do my job."

I drove onto campus the next day, and it was absolutely beautiful. It was that perfect time of spring. The whole campus was bursting with blooms and color and birds and squirrels. I had never a more beautiful campus. "Great," I thought, "first my radio, now the campus is mocking me."

I spent the next two months working twice as hard to finish my dissertation, trying to understand where we would go, and hoping this didn't affect my wife's ministry too much.

Then, on May 23, the ruling came down. The GBC is going to control Shorter College. "Wow," I thought, "Quite a surprise for folks." I sent a note of encouragement to Rob, trying to show that there truly was no ill will between us (and trying to convince myself that there truly was no ill will between us).

Two days later, Rob calls me. "Our first candidate has withdrawn from consideration, would you still like to come work with us." I don't remember much after that part of the conversation. I am pretty sure I said, "Yes!" and I think that Rob can still hear out that ear (though I am not sure). The final irony. He called to offer me the position on May 25 . . . my birthday.

I can say now, looking back, that I love the people at Shorter College. I love the students. I love the job. It turns out many people in this world don't love their job and get rather irritated when I keep sharing about mine. I can honestly say that teaching at Shorter College is a far, far better thing I do, than I have ever done before.