Persevering in the Midst of Weakness

For one thing, seminary studies has cured my insomnia. I realized that if I don’t spend every waking moment studying (if I’m not cleaning, cooking, tutoring, or in church), I will fall behind. I think about the end of the term in December and have trouble imagining the light at the end of the tunnel. With Hebrew and Greek quizzes/tests every week—I feel like I’m drifting farther and farther into a fog.

It has been a while since I’ve been in this place. I guess when you pick a major in university and when you’re working, you choose to study and work in the settings where you “shine,” or at the least, are somewhat good at. I loved studying English literature at York and the essays demanded a lot of me, but I never felt like I was pushing water uphill or anything (are you loving my clichés?).

Back in high school, however, I fought to do well in certain subjects (in particular, the OAC maths) and I fought just as hard to pass my ARCT piano exam. I was never good at these two areas—but managed to survive them through intense discipline—and prayer. For piano, I was determined to pass, partly to get it over with, partly to please my mom and my piano teacher, and partly because I didn’t want any future child of mine pointing at my past and reserving his/her right to quit something he/she couldn’t do: “Well, Mom, you quit.” I remember that grueling summer when I forced myself to practice the piano for eleven hours a day, for four months. Ultimately I got an Honours in my piano exam; acquaintances who hear about my piano background are impressed (since I barely touch the piano nowadays), and I feel obliged to tell them that I’m not a “good” piano player—just that I had worked very hard to reach the finish line.

My dad, in explaining his success, has said, “I’m not smart, I’m just a very hard worker.” I have to say, this reality must have been passed down to me genetically. I never thought I was a smart person either (I looked at everyone around me and very often felt inferior to them), and when people say this about me, I have to quickly dismiss the remark. In my mind, where I am now, is a product of daily discipline—reading and writing, reading and writing, reading and writing.

So here I am again—these subjects before me that are causing immense frustration—and I can see myself wanting to cry out of fear that I may not be able to obtain a satisfactory mark. In my brighter moments, I pray to God and thank Him for humbling me. As one of our language professors has said—studying the languages can teach us to persevere. The goal, of course, is to be able to read the Bible in both languages, and thereupon unlock the door to understanding and appreciating the Bible more. I am already relishing in tidbits of discoveries that our professors happen to mention in class—for example, the word “repentance” in Greek means doing a 180 degree turn, or that in Greek, unlike in English, the subject, verb and noun can be arranged in different orders in the sentence based on their emphasis.

Lee comes home and sees how tired I am (granted, he’s tired too). Oftentimes he is gracious, telling me I don’t have to cook dinner or offering me a massage—but I am stubborn, and refuse to use the excuse of a heavy workload to abandon my responsibilities in the home. I can pull it all off, I say to myself.

I’ll end this blog by saying that aside from my exhausting schedule, I do anticipate each day. And I must say, if I did not work for four years as a Technical Writer, I would not appreciate these days as much. I do relish in the knowledge that’s passed down in my classes. I even relish the last-minute readings I do on the subway downtown. Above all, when I am sitting in my Spirituality classes, my Hermeneutics classes, or attending chapel service, I feel a sense of renewal—as if I’m being taught how to be a Christian all over again—as if I had forgotten—about its values, its breadth, its life, its glory.

It’s in these moments that I know the decision to go to seminary at this point in my life is the right one. Even if, God willing, I am to start a family afterward, I am thankful that I will have secured this spiritual foundation before becoming a mother. I sometimes picture my becoming a mother being the Christian I was just three weeks ago, prior to seminary training, and I alarm myself. Even having taught Sunday school the past few years—I wish I had had the passion that is stirring in me right now.

Once in a while, I witness a “new Christian” who declares that he/she wants to start everything over and possesses the enthusiasm to engage in projects to do God’s work—I now can empathize.

That’s how God becomes real in the Christian’s life—upon meeting Him—the soul is ignited—and the Christian knows that this fire is not from within him/her because he/she has never felt this way before—it is the Spirit—and this delight in life, this passion to do good work, this eagerness to love—is awakened, heightened.

And that is why, the person who has been a Christian for a long time, who falls into the valley of darkness, who later, through circumstances, feels distant from God, can hang on—because he/she remembers the fire, and is patient—waiting to feel that fire once again. It is in this valley of darkness that God will raise him/her—through humility, through comfort, through guidance—and once he/she emerges from this valley, he/she shall attest to the glory and working power of God to heal and save the suffering.

So here I am. All of me. I offer everything to my God. And therein I shall find my peace.