Reflections on being a Perkins Fellow & a Perkins House Resident | Sade Akinbayo '19

It is difficult for me to summarize my reflections as a Perkins Fellow and a member of the Perkins House as I enjoy allotting myself an ample amount of time to reflect, time I do not currently have. So much has happened this academic year and I know if I event attempt to list a few events that occurred within the past eight months, I would end up producing a 15-page report. It's best for me to allow two brief essays I recently wrote to speak to my experiences as a Fellow and member of the Perkins House. I was asked to describe my most meaningful leadership experience and my greatest contribution to the Charlottesville community in 250 words or less for each essay. Without a doubt, I wrote about my experience as a Perkins Fellow and Perkins House member despite the word limit restricting the transformative events to which I could attest.

Essay 1: In 250 words or less, describe your most meaningful leadership experience. 

"As a college student, it is difficult not to conflate leadership with the number of executive positions one holds throughout their years as an undergraduate student. Leadership, certainly, includes assuming a role within an organization or group that demonstrates one’s ability to guide individuals to the completion of a task. Yet, I believe that leaders are most impacted, cultivated, and strengthened through the act of service: whether that be through volunteering or simply being one who dedicates time to support and engage others. 

My third year at the University of Virginia has been defined by collective and individual service to the Charlottesville community through two programs supported by Theological Horizons: The Perkins House (located in the Venable neighborhood on Grady Avenue), an intentional community of university students honoring civil rights activist John M. Perkins by building bridges between the UVa and Charlottesville community; and The Perkins Fellowship, a Fellows program centered on vocational discernment through community engagement and training by community service innovators in cross-cultural engagement and community development. I can wholeheartedly say that my experience as an inaugural member of both The Perkins House and The Perkins Fellowship has proven to mark a transformative point in my personal growth. 

Through my participation in these programs, I have a greater understanding about how to utilize the roles I assume during my time at the University to best contribute and pour into the communities I so dearly love and to which I belong. "

Essay 2: In 250 words or less, describe your greatest contribution to the Charlottesville community. 

"Though I have spent most my time contributing to the establishment of The Perkins House, my most significant service to the Charlottesville community has been supporting and investing love and time into some of Charlottesville’s youth.

As a tutor and mentor at Friendship Court’s Community Center, I assist students with mathematics and language arts and also aid the Community Center’s Coordinator with the Girls’ Mentoring Program. One of my favorite memories as a tutor occurred last year when I helped Naylia, a kindergartener at the time, solve math problems from a deck of addition flash cards. She was, at first, unenthusiastic to solve the problems and became frustrated as she perceived them to be too difficult for her to solve. However, the more problems we worked on together, the greater her desire was to solve more equations. She even wanted to solve equations she previously thought were too hard for her! The moment I saw Naylia’s face beam with a beautiful smile after I told her she solved the equations correctly, I made a commitment to do whatever I could to help her, and her peers, excel in school.

Knowledge is power and we all are well aware of the power the youth yield in challenging and changing societal norms. I know these students will have a large impact in their communities and I will continue assisting them in their growth, one equation at a time, one conversation at a time, throughout the rest of my time here in Charlottesville."

There are a couple things I must add in addition to what I expressed in these essays. First, I felt quite indifferent when asked to write about "my greatest contribution" to the Charlottesville community. The language used in this prompt certainly implies that certain "contributions" are more valued and praised than others (but that is another conversation to be had). I decided to rather describe an activity, conducted outside the UVa bubble, that rejuvenates my spirit day-in and day-out: tutoring and mentoring the youngens at Friendship Court. Words cannot describe how much I LOVE the kids I spend time with throughout the week. I can wholeheartedly say that my experience as a Perkins Fellow and Perkins House member has given me a desire to incorporate the same intentionality we honor within theses programs to my time spent with the kids at Friendship Court.

I am excited to spend at least another year with them... If only they knew that they had me at hello.

The struggle against racism & the reality of Jesus | Perkins Fellow '18

“THE PROBLEM of the twentieth century is the problem of the color-line…”

(W.E.B. Du Bois, The Souls of Black Folk, 1903).

If you were to become a neonatologist, you would observe a strange phenomenon.  As you would deliver babies, you would notice increasingly that babies of African American women would, on average, be born twice as likely premature or with a lower birth weight than those of white women (yes, this is a statistically significant study).  Even if you were to control for socioeconomic status, you would find an even more harrowing statistic: African American women of higher socioeconomic status (those who have obtained bachelors and masters degrees, respectively) were three times as likely to have a baby born premature or with lower birth weight than their white counterparts. Further, this same group of African American women would still have a higher premature and lower birth weight rate than white women who have dropped out or never complete high school education.  In a study by Collins and David, they point to racism and the stress it produces in African American women as the main factor that increases the rates of premature birth.  But this would be hard to explain to many in our country, of which around 70% of white Americans believe racism to be a product of the past.  It would even be more of a surprise to explain to the Charlottesville community, where our own University was one of the centers of the highly racialized eugenics movement in the early 1900s.

I came to the University of Virginia in 2014 from a relatively homogenous area in Virginia Beach.  I remember reading “Letter from Birmingham Jail” by Martin Luther King Jr. my junior year and feeling the searing conviction of his words addressed to the “white moderates”.  “When you are forever fighting a degenerating sense of ‘nobodiness’,” King writes, “—then you will understand why we find it difficult to wait”.  I remember sitting by my fireplace and feeling the burn upon my back of the relevancy of King’s words to our country, still.  It wasn’t long before my veil was further torn away when one of our classmates, Martese Johnson, was unjustly aprehended at the Corner in Charlottesville, a block away from the edge of our campus.  The boulder began to roll faster and faster as Theological Horizons brought John Perkins to U.Va. to speak, the shootings of the black men by police in the summer of 2015 (and on), and finally culminated with the election of Donald Trump where I found one of my black brothers crying in my room, and I held one of my black sisters as she wept in fear and pain. Tears, pain, heaviness – everywhere.  And if that wasn’t enough of a burden to handle, the slave-built grounds churned as the white supremecists marched through the epicenter of the Rotunda.  Everyday, I felt the weight of America upon my shoulders, and the sins of our country were still reverberating… loudly. 

I was reminded of the story of Jesus.  When Jesus had told his disciples he was going to suffer and die on the cross, Peter rebuked him saying he couldn’t possibly do that – we all know what Jesus said to Peter next: “Get behind me, Satan!” (Matthew 6:23, NIV).  Why did Peter say this, and why did Jesus respond that way?  Peter thought Jesus was going to be a political messiah; he thought Jesus was coming to overcome the Romans and become the new political leader.  In reality, Jesus came to suffer and die because the Kingdom he was coming to build was not only physical, but it was spiritual, it was in our hearts – it was a war in the heavens.  Jesus came to renew our country, yes, but not at the expense of renewing our hearts, minds and souls.  Suffering was neccesary for the atonement. 

But Jesus was clear, that the Kingdom he has brought to Earth is a spiritual reality.  I began to stray away from prayer and devotion to God and replace it with my works.  I began to tire myself out.  Paul wrote it succinctly, which seems to be a thorn in the enlightened side of America:

For we do not wrestly against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places (Ephesians 6:12, NIV).

How are we supposed to fight this force of racism, then, that has such real and dark physical manifestations?  How do we fight a phenomenon that has plagued our country for years?  We need to be renewed, and we need to cling to the cross.  We need to humble ourselves and collectively repent.  We desperately need to seek the face of God and not fall wayward to the dirty rags of works.  Our turning from our sin and our selves towards the cross is what should inform our work. 

In my time as a Perkins Fellow, I learned this.  That if I am to do the work of the Kingdom, I need to have my heart right before God.  And that is something I want to encourage you all in.  It is obvious that our country has sins of racism still so evident, and we can see tangible manifestations of that nearly everyday.  One response would be to just go out and start working to solve it.  That is not necessarily a bad thing, but you will become tired and you will hit a wall.  If you are working for God, stop.  You are already justified before him, and I would encourage you to repent and get your heart before him.  To others, they may interpret salvation as a reason to not do work in the community.  Brothers and sisters, our eschatology has not yet been realized.  The Kingdom of God is a dynamic and ever-present reality that needs to be brought about by us, the church.  So to those who see the racial division in our country but fail to act, please get before God as well and ask Him what your role is in the beautiful, ever-unfolding picture.  The reality of Jesus and his salvific power at the cross should always be what informs our lived theologies.  As my dear friend Ross Byrd once told me, “Theology doesn’t neccessarily make good obedience, rather obedience makes for good theology”.  I would encourage you to take a deep look at our country and ask God how it is he wants to use you to bring shalom to our country.  Following Jesus is wildly fascinating, but it should also be restful.  We need to rest before the cross.  I will leave you with one verse to meditate upon.  Our country is hurting, and we desperately need Jesus now more than ever.

If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land (2 Chronicles 7:14, NIV).

On practicing resurrection by Fellow SK Doyle '18

As my last year of college is drawing near to a close and as we as Christians are approaching the season of Easter, I’ve been reflecting on all the ways that newness and resurrection have enriched my life this year. Entering into my fourth year, I had expected to spend a lot of time with the old: to spend time with wonderful old friends, reflect on old memories, and relish in my final times doing the same old things in the same old places. And while I have certainly done a lot of that and am grateful for the roots I’ve put down here, what has surprised me in this year has been the opportunities to dwell in the new. I moved into a new house with five other women who quickly became new friends and taught me new things about food justice, Instagram meme accounts, gratitude, and love. I discovered new bands and started listening to new podcasts. I made other new friends in classes where I continue to learn about new ways of seeing the world. I learned new ways of taking care of myself and giving myself to others, and it is comforting to know that even a place I thought I had gotten to know so deeply could have such vitality to continue to surprise and challenge me.

I have felt this newness deeply in the relationships I’ve built with the other eleven Horizons Fellows I have had the pleasure of getting to know this year. Spending time with these Fellows in our monthly meetings, over s’mores on the Lawn on a Friday night or late-night study sessions in the Theological Horizons office, I have deepened my belief that our triune God is fundamentally relational and reveals Herself in the relationships we stumble upon and cultivate. Some of the Fellows I’ve known for all four years at UVa, but many of them I likely would never have met without Theological Horizons. I’m grateful for the ways they’ve brought to life new ways of loving myself, others, and God. Earlier this year, we read Wendell Berry’s “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front” together. The last stanza has become something of a mantra for me:

Be like the fox

Who makes more tracks than necessary,

Some in the wrong direction

Practice resurrection.

I have felt closely and deeply connected with God and Her constant newness and vitality in the relationships that have continued to be born and reborn even as my time in this place comes to a close. I have made lots of tracks, many in the wrong direction, as I’ve learned from and done life alongside the Horizon Fellows. We’ve practiced resurrection together and I’m grateful. I’m grateful for the role these eleven fellows and our fearless leader Christy have played in filling me with excitement for all of the new I will encounter after I leave this place. 

Worry, Maslow's pyramid and resting in Christ | Reflections from Fellow Sam Kesting, '18

As I continue to move through life, I have found that there are quite a few areas which lack consistency.  Relationships, academic performance, athletic skill, and even housing situations all seem to be in flux, for better or for worse.  With all of these facets of life on a roller coaster, often times the only thing that seems to be constant is worry and ironically, it is the uncertainties of life that feed the ever-present nagging in the back of one’s mind.

Just like a love of sunsets or a fear of deep, dark water, worry is one of those things that is uniquely human and just comes naturally to us.  It is impossible to fully escape its clutches and can even be incapacitating at times.  I often think about worry as it corresponds to Maslow’s hierarchy of needs: a pyramid of what are considered to be necessities to an enriched and fulfilling human life.  While the pyramid is by no means a perfect illustration of needs for all cultures and societies, it is helpful when conceptualizing and compartmentalizing worry.

Principally, our existence is predicated on being able to anticipate answers to questions of survival such as when we will have our next meal, where we be able to find water, and how we will stay warm, dry and out of harms way.  From these physiological needs, the tiers of the pyramid ascend up through needs of safety, love and belonging, esteem, and finally self-actualization at the top.  While I certainly cannot speak for everyone, I would posit that most of the individuals reading this post do not live with daily worry regarding food and shelter, especially those of us reading this on the screen of an electronic device.  Many of us are blessed to be well-fed and sheltered regularly.  However, the upper four tiers on Maslow’s hierarchical pyramid are where things begin to fall apart.  Worry quickly descends into our minds and begins to grow dark, cold roots around our hearts.

First, we struggle with needs of safety.  Financial woes, abuse, and poor health (both mental and physical) plague our society.  Everyone is touched by these ills on a daily basis in some way and they can cripple the mind and soul with fear and worry.  Next, we are confronted by a yearning to belong.  Anywhere.  Spousal relationships, church groups, sports teams, book clubs, yoga class, or even a night out with a group of friends are all manifestations of attempts to meet this need.  On many occasions throughout life, it can feel like we are each one of the least wanted in our respective communities.  We also wrestle with problems of esteem.  We fail at work, in school, or in a relationship.  Our capacity for “success” as the world would define it crumbles and we see ourselves as worthless and with nothing to show for the years of life behind us.  Finally, we face challenges to self-actualization.  Work is often not fulfilling, our potential seems stifled, and we still do not have the slightest clue what we want to be when we grow up.  It is clear to see these upper four needs going unmet in those around us and even clearer still within our own persons.  Universities are environments replete with worry regarding these necessities and having been at one for the last four years, I can tell you it is ubiquitous.

The obvious question that follows these unmet needs asks how we fix them.  Do we not have seminars and counselors?  Medicines and therapies?  Clubs, dating websites, and self-help books?  Why do all of them fail us?  What are we missing?  Why do we continue to worry?

I have been blessed to have grown up in a family of faith and many wise voices have poured into my life over the last 22 years.  From them, I have identified two methods for combating debilitating worry: resting in Christ and practicing thankfulness to learn to give generously.

Being a young kid dealing with worry and fear, I memorized 1 Peter 3:5 and Matthew 11:28.  These verses speak of casting anxiety and burdens on Christ and receiving rest and care in return.  As a child, this brought some comfort but in growing older these words become far easier said than done.  It can be difficult to see the Lord’s plan come to fruition in a tangible way, especially on His timeline.  Ultimately for me, resting in Christ has meant prayerfully laying plans, expectations, and worry at his feet and trusting that He knows what he is doing with them.  There have been many occasions in which I was filled with strife about the future and Christ has revealed His better way for my life.  Although there is and will be plenty of uncertainty, I can be free from trying to have it all figured out.

Thankfulness is like a muscle: left alone, it decays into nothing but when exercised, it flourishes.  It is far easier to dwell on what we do not have than what we do, especially in a state of constant comparison with those around us.  We will always be able to see the bigger, better, and more successful and our circumstances are rarely exactly to our liking.  I once had a director at a camp I worked at tell me that he was thankful for rainy days.  When I first heard this, I was a bit taken aback.  As a counselor, rainy days were usually the toughest.  It was always colder, kids got wet and frustrated, and activities were cancelled.  The director went on to explain how the rain watered the earth, reminded you that you were alive through discomfort, and led to more time indoors where important conversations could be had with the campers.  This taught me to find opportunity to be thankful in all things.  Much like thankfulness, generosity does not come easy.  We are selfish creatures and any extra time, money, or other resources that we have tend to immediately be used on our favorite person (ourselves).  However, in thankfulness, the seeds of generosity are sown.  Being thankful for our circumstances surely leads to the realization of the abundance that has already been given to us.  From this abundance, we are called to be open-handed and freely distribute what we have to others.

The worry that corresponds to the tiers of Maslow’s pyramid is countered through Christ and His church.  Safety, belonging, self-esteem, and self-actualization are found through prayer, study of scripture, and community with likeminded Christians.  Resting in Christ provides safety and belonging, thankfulness builds esteem, and generosity provides purpose.  Although a perfect and complete picture of needs being met will never occur on this fallen earth, glimpses can be realized through a relationship with Christ and interactions with those who love Him.  I have been blessed to be able to see these glimpses through others and in my own life at school and will hopefully continue to see them as I move on from this place.  While worry will never fully be dispelled, this perspective has helped to keep it in its place.

Holy Week: The things that make for peace

And throwing their garments on the colt, they set Jesus upon it. And as he rode along, they spread their garments on the road. 

The disciples began to rejoice and praise God with a loud voice for all the mighty works that they had seen, saying, "Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord!" 

… And when Jesus drew near and saw the city he wept over it, saying, "Would that even today you knew the things that make for peace!"     (Luke 19)

"Blessed be the King who comes in the name of the Lord," the cry goes up.  People throw palm branches into the road in front of him as Jesus approaches, a poor man's ticker-tape parade.

Around a bend, there suddenly is Jerusalem. Jesus draws back on the reins. Crying disfigures his face. "Would that even today you knew the things that make for peace." 

The things that make for peace.  We do not know these things, Jesus says, and God knows he's right. The absence of peace within our own skins no less than within our nations testifies to that. 

So as Holy Week begins, let us name instead the one who is himself the Prince of Peace.

Jesus is our only hope: the hope that finally by the grace of God the impossible will happen. 

Despair and hope. They travel the road to Jerusalem together, as together they travel every road we take ---despair at what we bring down upon our own heads and hope in him who travels the road with us and for us.  

Hope in the King who approaches every human heart like a city. And it is a very great hope as hopes go and well worth all our singing and dancing and sad little palms because not even death can prevail against this King and not even the end of the world, when end it does, will be the end of him and of the mystery and majesty of his love. 

Blessed be he.            (adapted from Frederick Buechner)

Lent 5: Your ordinary desert

The Christian religion asks us to put our trust not in ideas, and certainly not in ideologies, but in a God who was vulnerable enough to become human and die, a God who desires to be present in our ordinary circumstances.  {Kathleen Norris}

Captured by pirates and enslaved in Ireland, the son of a respectable British family was wrenched from his comfortable Christian faith & home.  Yet in the "desert"  captivity, that teenager met God in ordinary--yet extraordinary--ways. That man who would be called Saint Patrick wrote:

I was made to shepherd the flocks day after day, and, as I did so, I would pray all the time, right through the day. More and more the love of God and fear of him grew strong within me, and as my faith grew, so the Spirit became more and more active...Although I might be staying in a forest or out on a mountainside, it would be the same; even before dawn broke, I would be aroused to pray.  In snow, in frost in rain, I was always full of energy, due to the fervor of the Spirit within me. 

Ordinary life, with its contraints and routines, can be a desert of its own kind.  Where are you encountering God there?

Karen Wright Marsh, Executive Director                  

Let us remember that the life in which we ought to be interested is 'daily' life.  We can, each of us, only call the present time our own...Our Lord tells us to pray for today, and so God prevents us from tormenting ourselves about tomorrow.  It is as if God were to say to us, "It is I who gives you this day and will also give you what you need for this day.  It is I who makes the sun to rise.  It is I who scatters the darkness of night and reveals to you the rays of the sun." {Gregory of Nyssa, 4th century}

On Trusting God’s Plan | Reflections by Fellow Sam McCorkle '18

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart,
and do not rely on your own insight.
In all your ways acknowledge him,
and he will make straight your paths.” Proverbs 3:5-6

Sitting in the comfort of Lone Light Coffee, sweetly perfumed by the pie shop sharing its tenancy, an idea I heard plenty about began making sense to me—God’s plan. I was meeting with Reggie, the mentor with whom I was paired through the Horizon Fellows program, for the first time. Reggie, although small in stature, is an impressive man. He is a career counselor at the University of Virginia’s Data Science Institute, an active member in Charlottesville’s young adult Christian community, a loyal friend, and now my mentor. As he opened up about his experiences, I was beyond impressed how a man his age has lived such an interesting life. Interesting for reasons like his extensive networking skills—which have, for instance, allowed him to see one of my favorite bands at an intimate house concert in my hometown—as well as the amount he has traveled. And not just for work. He intentionally plans visits to see his many friends and family located across the country and globe. He is a genuine delight to talk to and our conversation on this hot May afternoon was wonderful.

As an eager undergrad unsure of his future, I was curious about how someone like Reggie was so calm and trusting with whatever came his way. As if God heard my thoughts, my mentor entertained my curiosity by sharing about how he came to Charlottesville. For him, it was a bold move full of uncertainty, but he described it in a way I can simply paraphrase as trusting in God’s plan for him. I have heard this idea of God’s plan before, but there is something transformative about hearing a firsthand experience explained with the kind of confidence achieved only through practice. The practice of trusting what God is going to throw at you next.

“Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” Luke 3:21-22

Fast forward a few weeks later. After hearing the wisdom Reggie offered, which I was still ruminating on, I was now in a foreign environment for the entire summer. This was daunting for me. About six weeks in to my summer, however, my outlook shifted. The catalyst for this change was a new friend and mentor, Bill. Bill, a few years older than Reggie, has a wonderful wife, four kids, and an incredible career teaching high school Latin. Conversations with Bill are on par with counseling, as I am able to speak my mind free of judgment. He has the rare gift of making you feel heard and loved, as well as the wisdom to instill a sense of direction in you. Our one-on-one talks every week were my favorite part of the summer. It was during our early conversations about Henri Nouwen’s book Life of the Beloved when I began to internalize what it meant to trust in God’s plan.

What is funny to me about Nouwen’s book is that he wrote it with the intention of helping his non-Christian friend, Fred, and other secular minds, understand the deep spiritual love Christians experience from God. Perhaps to Nouwen’s dismay, Fred reported to Nouwen that the book was wonderful…but not what he expected. Fred described the book as “for the converted” and that is exactly what it has become; a simply put and popular conceptualization for understanding who we are—the Beloved children of God. Regardless of the book’s intentions and reputation, I ate up every word of it. At the heart of the book is the idea that God is calling us His Beloved and we must follow that voice. And this voice is everywhere. It is in our families, relationships, studies, church, and conversations with friends or strangers. It is that “voice” that tells us we are worth it, we are special, we are chosen. I cannot begin to do the book much justice, so all I will further say is that Nouwen’s understanding of God’s love for us pushed me to search for voices in my life that call me Beloved and subsequently make me feel special. Cliché, probably, but when I linked this message with trusting God’s plan, the idea of having God in my life became practical for the first time.

Heading into my fourth year, I remembered how enthralling Reggie’s story was. Although everything for him seemed well-directed and planned, there was that spice of invited uncertainty that I admired and yearned for. Incapable of grasping on to the future’s unknown, I am often frustrated with the thought of what comes next. Given all of this, and the fact that my fourth year would be marked by discerning post-graduation plans, I sought a way to mitigate the fear of the unknown in order to welcome it as a necessary part of my life. I merged the ideas I had been pondering since May to realize that following the voice of God calling me Beloved is synonymous with trusting God’s plan. Though it is unlikely I will ever have an “aha!” moment when I figure out my calling, I am learning to trust God’s voice more than my own these days. 

Mystery & Doubt. Reflections by Horizons Fellow Ben Noble '18

“No one gets a 100 on the quiz. No one.”

I sank back into a chair in my advisor’s office on a Thursday afternoon during my Third Year. “No one gets a 100 on the quiz.” My advisor’s words echoed in my mind and hit like a truck. Still, I knew that they were true. He and I had been discussing religion, death, the afterlife—light conversation for a late-August day.

Over the past year, I had been trying to make sense of a faith that no longer felt feasible to me. The months leading up to that conversation with my advisor had been characterized by struggle and skepticism. I had quit going to church. I had stopped praying. I had put Henri Nouwen on the bookshelf and picked up Christopher Hitchens instead.

Retrospectively, a lot of my doubt was born out of emotional resentment. At the time, I felt like I had been hurt by Christians. In response, I nurtured animosity towards the Church, and, over time, towards God. However, unresolved bitterness and anger eventually turned into intellectual doubt. I transitioned from being angry with God to questioning whether God was even real.

How could I know, with assurance, that the Bible and all the stuff it said about God and humanity and history and morality were undeniably true? Moreover, was it worth following even if it was true?

Having sat on these thoughts for some time, there was a brief period during the summer before my Third Year when I considered myself an atheist. I thought that giving up on belief would make me feel free—free from resentment, free from ignorance, free from God. However, rather than feeling free, I felt an internal emptiness instead. Life felt grey and dull. I felt alone, too—more alone than I had ever felt.

Fast-forward a few months.

Time passed and I eventually came around to being open to faith again—though not without some low points and a substantial amount of existential anxiety. Still, even though I was open to belief, I couldn’t shake my feelings of uncertainty and I didn’t have a strong sense of confidence about any particular belief. Despite my doubt, I wanted desperately to trust in something again.

I walked into my advisor’s office on that day hoping that he would speak some magical words that would inspire me and give me a sense of hope once more. I walked out feeling neither a greater sense of clarity nor a renewed hope.

So what’s happened since the day that I left that office?

Although I would like to say that a couple weeks passed by and then, out of no where, God arrived on a white horse and I had a profound moment of conversion where my doubt was put to rest and my faith restored, I can’t say with any honesty that that was the case. Nearly a year and a half has elapsed since that meeting with my advisor and I still have yet to experience that “Eureka!” moment where everything is reinstated as it once was.

A lot has changed for me since then. The time in between has brought new hopes, more doubts, fresh experiences, moments of deep sadness, and moments of unparalleled beauty. Still, God has yet to ride in on a white horse and answer every single one of my questions. Maybe He will, some day, but I’m not so sure that it’s a safe bet.

God didn’t show up in the way that I was hoping, but despite this, I have found God in ways that are deeper and richer than I could ever have imagined on that day in August 2016. The ways in which I experience God are nuanced and unique and everywhere. I see God in a poem or song, from time to time. I see God in a Sunday drive through the Blue Ridge. I experience God when I have a really rich, deep conversation with a friend over a cigarette (Sorry Mom!) Most of all, however, I experience the reality of God through others. The moments when I see and experience the way that people truly love and care for each other and for me are the moments when I’m convinced, beyond of shadow of doubt, that God is real and alive and present.

This may sound a bit esoteric. I won’t disagree with that. My times of doubt have created an uncertainty about God in ways that can be frustrating, but the same uncertainty that causes me distress has also made space for me to experience the mystery of God. In many ways, the reality of uncertainty has shown me that my advisor was correct when he said, “No one gets a 100 on a quiz.” At the same time, this uncertainty has made God indefinable and illimitable and has animated life with mystery and excitement in ways that I didn’t think were possible.

In an essay entitled, “Circles,” Ralph Waldo Emerson writes, “Our life is an apprenticeship to the truth that around every circle another can be drawn; that there is no end in nature, but every end is a beginning; that there is always another dawn risen on mid-noon, and under every deep a lower deep opens.” I used to desire certainty about life. I wanted to have all the answers. I wanted to understand God and, in a way, I wanted to control God. Now, I think about things differently. I’m more at ease with the fact that I won’t ever know and understand everything. Now, I’m invigorated by the fact that God is far beyond my understanding. Rather than seeking to be the master of knowledge and truth, I tend to think of a life lived well as, like Emerson writes, “an apprenticeship to the truth.”

Each day brings with it the possibility of seeing the world and experiencing God in myriad ways that are new and fresh and exhilarating. Of course, this brings the possibility that yesterday’s way of understanding may require reconsideration and perhaps abandonment. In my experience, the “apprenticeship to truth” often entails a constant expansion and reconsideration of what I considered true one year ago or last week or even yesterday. I’m not going to suggest that this pursuit of truth doesn’t pose the possibility of anxiety and doubt and despair—that’s an inherent risk. Uncertainty is scary and there often isn’t an easy solution to dealing with it. However, despite the uncertainty and fear that the journey towards truth may bring, I am convinced whole-heartedly that the journey is vitally and comprehensively worthwhile. At the end of the day, what I think makes this way of navigating life invaluable is that it creates an opportunity for growth—personal growth, intellectual growth, and spiritual growth.

To me, for the time being, this is far better than getting a 100 on the quiz.

The most joyful thing: Lent 4

Jesus went into Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God.  "The time has come!" he said.  "The kingdom of God is at hand.  Repent and believe the good news."  {Mark 1:14}

---

TO REPENT is to adopt God's viewpoint in place of your own.  Far from being sorrowful, repentance is the most joyful thing in the world, because when you have done it you have adopted the viewpoint of truth itself; you are in fellowship with God. 

{William Temple, 1881-1944}

Do you remember how Jesus said over and over again, "Repent"?  Repent: that is, evaluate the whole way you are living your life in light of this great fact: "The kingdom of God is at hand."
Now that is not a way of saying that the kingdom of heaven almost came but didn't quite make it---and now we're in some kind of divine parenthesis, that have to muddle through as best we can and wait for heaven after we die.  That's not what Jesus meant.

Imagine that you and I were walking along the street and I said to you, "Behold, the restaurant is near at hand. Let's eat!"  It's more like that.  The kingdom of heaven has been made available to you and me.  And God is right here, at hand: with us now.

{adapted from Richard Foster}
 

Faith, justice and coding. Reflections by Sarah Bland '19

Standing on the rooftop bar of Squarespace’s office building in NYC’s SoHo district, I looked out over the foggy scene of bustling traffic in the intersection below and felt, in a word, overwhelmed. The week leading up to that moment had been filled with many new people, intense full-stack development classes, and challenging conversations. I was in New York City for a program called The Impact Fellowship, an intense, two-week coding experience for “the next generation of social entrepreneurs.” I went, intending to engage with issues of injustice, meet similarly motivated peers/ mentors, and ascertain whether computer science could be a viable field for those seeking to “love God and love people” well. And yet, here I was, visiting the posh downtown office of a company with millions of users, nearly half a billion in net worth, and hundreds of employees earning six digits. Questions about the computer science industry dizzyingly crowded my mind: “Can ethics and industry intersect meaningfully, or is CS too obfuscated by desire for wealth, glory, and power?” “Am I competitive enough to be a software engineer? Powerful and faithful enough to do SWE for God’s glory?” “Is CS intrinsically too abstracted away from immediate aid and love for those who need it most?” My mental state was perfectly mirrored in the confused honking, peddling, and shouting below.

Overwhelming as the moment was, these sensations of cognitive, emotional, and spiritual dissonance in relation to my vocation and calling were not incongruent with prior experience. While it may be true that we often don’t understand God’s ways, we can sometimes [if we’re fortunate] begin to see patterns. One that’s repeated itself again and again in my life has been God’s calling to go and do in cities. In college alone, I’ve been called to Greensboro, NC for a service trip, Chicago for a spring break social justice plunge, Chicago [again] for a summer of urban ministry, the Perkins House Charlottesville, and New York City for a winter break spent learning about coding for social impact. Lord willing, I will spend this coming summer in Detroit, Michigan, working at the intersection of justice and SWE (e.g. teaching coding skills  through a startup like Grand Circus to people who’d otherwise not have access to tech education). Each of these cities have taught me particular lessons; nonetheless, persistent threads have woven themselves throughout all of my experiences. Predominantly, I have been struck in each location by the confluence of human brokenness and excellence on all scales. The paradoxical coexistence of vibrancy and pain in the human experience are nowhere more evident than in the multitudes living in places such as Chicago and New York City; nowhere are the broken, hungry, and alone more visible.

It may not be immediately obvious how computer science, or the tech scene at large, plays into all of this. It is the case that NYC, perhaps more than any other city I have encountered, exhibits a bold demarcation between countably infinite numbers of exceptionally wealthy individuals and (seemingly) uncountably infinite numbers of needy individuals. Certain fields within computer science, such as financial and informational technology, play a significant role in this divide, as they contribute to ever-widening wealth and access gaps within the city. Now, more than ever, NYC’s Silicon Alley is burgeoning into a multi-billion value parallel to California’s Silicon Valley. Even impressive companies such as Squarespace are overshadowed by nearby Google, Facebook, Amazon, and Microsoft offices. To be sure, some of these tech companies are impacting the world positively through their products and research. Almost all, however, are explicitly negative in terms of their diversity, inclusion, and ethical resource acquisition (think: precious metals like Coltan, important for building hardware). Certainly, many are neutral. Regardless, it is inevitable that computer science is changing the world (and quickly); the only variable that remains to be defined is the moral and ethical direction in which it does so.

It is the multidimensionality of this problem, as well as the role that I [may or may not] play in it, that caused my overwhelmed and anxious state that afternoon in New York City. I know that God has given me a mind and desire for computer science. I believe that CS has the potential to change the world on a broad and powerful scale, but I personally possess a limited understanding about what that could look like and have no certainty whatsoever about what part I could play. I know that God tends to call me to go and do. I also know that God is training me to think about and engage with issues of injustice; He is ever-breaking my hubris, white privilege, and false self-sufficiency through prodding my heart to better love my neighbor. Finally, I know that God often asks more questions than He provides answers and am learning to be still in that discomfort. My mother, at the end of a long conversation discussing these themes, said to me: “Sarah, you are a warrior being trained for the forefront of some battle.” Ultimately, I can only pray that God will arm me well in preparation and that I will be able to discern His voice when He calls.

When Pharaoh drew near, the people of Israel lifted up their eyes, and behold, the Egyptians were marching after them, and they feared greatly. And the people of Israel cried out to the LORD. They said to Moses, “Is it because there are no graves in Egypt that you have taken us away to die in the wilderness? What have you done to us in bringing us out of Egypt? Is not this what we said to you in Egypt: ‘Leave us alone that we may serve the Egyptians’? For it would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the wilderness.”

And Moses said to the people, “Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the LORD, which he will work for you today. For the Egyptians whom you see today, you shall never see again. The LORD will fight for you, and you have only to be silent.”

The LORD said to Moses, “Why do you cry to me? Tell the people of Israel to go forward.”

Exodus 14:10-15 (ESV)

P.S. Have an interest in learning more about some cutting-edge tech projects that actually are promising vectors for change? Check out WePower’s decentralized energy network (built using blockchain technology), this research project on protecting victims of intimate partner violence from surveillance by abusers, or Bad Batch Alert. Or send me an email at scb4ga@virginia.edu and we can chat!

Are you thirsty? Lent 3

O Lord, all my longing is known to you; my sighing is not hidden from you...O God, you are my God.  I seek you.  My soul thirsts for you.  {Psalm 38}

The one who relies on mere human strength is like a stunted shrub in the desert, living in the barren, salt-encrusted wilderness with no hope for the future.

But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose hope and confidence is in the Lord.  That person is like a tree planted along a riverbank, with its roots reaching deep into the water--a tree that is not bothered by the heat, not worried by long months of drought, whose leaves stay green.  A tree that goes right on producing luscious fruit.  {Jeremiah 7}

---

LORD, I know not what to ask of You.
You alone know what my true needs are.
You love me more than I myself know how to love.
Help me to see my real needs, which may be hidden from me.
I dare not ask for either a cross or consolation.
I can only wait upon You; my heart is open to You.
Visit and help me in Your steadfast love.
Strike me & heal me; cast me down & raise me up.
I worship in silence Your holy will.
I offer myself to You as a living sacrifice.
I put all my trust in You.
I have no other desire than to fulfill Your will.
Teach me to pray.  Pray Yourself in me.  {Metropolitan of Philaret of Moscow}

Jesus says, "Come to me, all you who thirst."  Come and drink deep of the living water; let Christ fill your heart and heal your wounds.
 

Lent 2: lessons of the desert

"I cared for you in the wilderness, in the dry desert where no water was." Hosea 13:5

God chooses to meet us where we are, even in our loneliest places.  Instead of expecting us to find God, God comes to us.  God cares for us in our wilderness, in the dry desert where no water is.  God longs to bring us home to green pastures--rejoicing.

The lesson of the desert is that we are not in control of everything.
We must first acknowledge our weakness so that we may lean upon the strength of God.  
We must admit our fear so that we may receive the courage of God.
We must declare ourselves lost so that we may take the leading hand of God.
In the desert we discover that it is not God who has abandoned us but we who have abandoned God through our neglect and our way of life.
In the desert we begin to let go of all that is not of God and attach to everything that is.  
We begin to learn that life is really all about loving God with all of our hearts and being open to God's love for us.  What is the desert teaching you?
 

---

Be silent.
Be still.
Alone.
Empty
Before your God.
Say nothing.
Ask nothing.
Be silent.
Be still.
Let your God look upon you.
That is all.
God knows.
God understands.
God loves you
With an enormous love,
And only wants
To look upon you
With that love.
Quiet.
Still.
Be. 
Let your God—
Love you.                  {Denise Levertov}

God in the whirlwind. Reflections by Perkins Fellow Dominique DeBose '19

Lately I've been feeling like I'm in the middle of a whirlwind*. A disorienting but comforting peacefulness at the core, accompanied by an eerie awareness of the fact that I am surrounded by gales of ungraspable uncertainty... I'm not sure if I should be encouraged or fearful. My vision is clouded... although what vision? The winds protect me, I suppose, or maybe limit me? I want to give my all to something, I want to go out into the world. But I don't know where. I have this mind-eating anxiety about what God's will for me is and a heart-aching desire to pursue it. Yet still, in light of all of my endless interests and passions, I refuse to think of God's will as a time-sensitive bus that I stand in wait for at a specific stop on the corner, worried that if I'm not paying attention, it will pass me by, and I will be left stranded. Instead, her will is of a daily state of mind. So, in that, I ask for WISDOM, FOCUS, PEACE, and RETENTION to go on living each day at a time. I don't know what I'm doing and I don't know where I am going. And that's okay. 

I've come to realize that God is too good to me to let me truly miss out on anything. A tolerant mother who just wants the best for me. Though in the midst of the whirlwind, I get frustrated and angry wondering why she speaks in indecipherable metaphors instead of clear answers, irritated because I cry out and hear no answer. I get annoyed because I thought she was good. But who am I but a child? Who am I to doubt her goodness that has already been so prevalent and revealed to me thus far. Life-giving friends and all the laughter and other good medicines they come with, community, and family that I would be a fool to not express my gratitude towards is what has been given to me. I am learning to live each day at a time, with all of its confusions, frustrations, and laughs. And each day at a time, I will continue to seek God's will with wisdom, focus, peace, and retention. 

*whirlwind: also, used in similes and metaphors to describe an energetic or tumultuous person

Lent 1: at the far side of the wilderness

Then you will call and the Lord will answer. You will cry for help and God will say, "I'm here." Isaiah 58:9

Moses led the flock he was tending to the far side of the wilderness
and came to Horeb, the mountain of God.  
There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in flames of fire from within a bush...
Moses thought, 'I will go over and see this strange sight--why the bush does not burn up.'  
When the Lord saw that Moses had gone over to look,
God called to him from within the bush, 'Moses! Moses!'  
And Moses said, 'Here I am.'    Exodus 3:1-4

Where does Moses encounter God?  On the far side of the wilderness--that out of the way, untamed place where Moses slows down & tends his flock in quiet.  It's the ideal place for God to capture his attention.  Alone with his sheep, Moses can't help but see the steadily burning bush. He draws closer until God calls him by name: "Moses! Moses!" In this intimate meeting, God touches Moses to the depths of his heart.
During this time of Lent, I'm invited to travel to the far side of the wilderness, a place where nothing much is happening. In those moments away from the everyday chatter, manifestations of God's strange blazing beauty wait for me.  There God calls me by my name and hopes for my response, "Here I am."

Your wilderness can be a graced place.  Be still and let the things of God touch your heart.  Wait for God to whisper your name, to light a flame in your spirit, to speak of how beloved you are.

Let's be comfortable with being uncomfortable - Laura Eom '18

A new year means new resolutions to do better, be better, and grow as person. It’s only the middle of January though and I am already failing at my new years resolution: to be comfortable being uncomfortable. I’ve fallen back into the same routine of going to class, talking to the same people, eating the same food, and going to the same places for fun. I am addicted to comfort and security… and there’s a good chance you are too. 

Being a Horizons Fellow has challenged me to step outside of my comfort zone, specifically, when it comes to racial justice. In one of our recent meetings, we were able to talk about how to approach racial reconciliation in Charlottesville with its history and current issue of gentrification. This meeting included the Perkins Fellows as well, and I was not the only minority speaking on this issue.

The discussion did not end with a singular action based resolution and it would be naive to think that a complex societal issue could be solved in one meeting. Nevertheless, that should not debilitate one to inaction. No one has to do everything, but everyone has to do something.

Start by listening to the people who are affected by this issue. This means going out of your way to meet people who are different from you. Go to culture shows, One Way IV/AIV/GCF large group, BSA/ISA/VSA meetings and listen! Let people talk about their experiences and validate them. Their experiences are real and may extend beyond just themselves. Be comfortable being uncomfortable not knowing everything about race and privilege. I myself am still learning from people who come from different backgrounds than my own and it can still feel uncomfortable at times! Don’t be afraid of feeling stupid asking questions. It is more stupid to accept living in ignorance. And if you’re someone who has never had to think about how race affects your day-to-day life, it is to be expected that some things need to be explained. And that is OK! It is a process and it takes humility to accept this.

Let's move towards looking more like Christ and be people who initiate these conversations. Jesus initiated conversation when it came to the Samaritan woman (John 4:7-42) and the crippled beggar (John 5:1-15). And in both situations, he was met with pushback and awkwardness. But, Jesus proceeded to converse and interact anyway. He was not deterred from the responses because he loved each one deeply. Our love for comfort and routine should not supersede our love to know and understand brothers and sisters of a different race.  

This year, I commit to being comfortable being uncomfortable, not only for the sake of my brothers and sisters, but for my own personal growth. I will be intentional in placing myself in communities that don’t look like me, and learning from them. Will you step out in faith and take up this challenge with me?

To learn more about the Horizons Fellows program, click here. 

Reflections by Fellow, Joanie Fasulo

Winter break is one of the only times in the year when I get to wake up to a blank calendar. Other than familial commitments and the occasional phone call, I get to spend my time freely and can even make the choice not to do anything productive. There is little to no question if I will be able to read my Bible or spend time in prayer  – time is in abundance. 

During the academic year, this is not the case. I go to bed each night, thinking about the flurry of activity that will begin the next morning – generally not stopping until late the next evening. Of course, I am the one choosing to live this hectic life – running from a morning behind the counter at Grit to a seminar on African American Political Thought and then to a lecture in the English department on Little Women. After that, it is off to spend time with community youth partners at Friendship Court and then to grab dinner at Newcomb before heading to Alderman for the night, taking little time in between any of these things (generally being late to most). 

These are all things I am happy to be doing. I love the people that I work with and I love that I get to listen to brilliant professors and peers talk about topics that interest me (and with one semester left, I have become even more grateful for my education here). However, during these hectic days, it is all too easy to get caught up in the here-and-now and neglect any part of life that isn’t on my to-do list (something we reflected on with David Foster Wallace’s This is Water as Horizons fellows). This can mean seeing far too few friends who draw me closer to the Lord, reading my Bible or going to church; or any combination of these things that help me to remember that I am a daughter of the King and that I have been promised life to the full. Forgetting my identity makes it harder to give and receive grace, love others well, and commit to a servant’s attitude – things that aren’t all that easy in the first place. After a summer diving deeper into many theological questions and practices, it became rather clear that the answer is almost always to spend more time with God – to seek comfort in the hard times and to celebrate in the good. So many of us know this to be true, yet we still struggle to do just that – at least, I know I do. When I came back to grounds this fall after my time spent working in a kitchen at a Christian study center on Martha’s Vineyard (perhaps the most idyllic summer job), I was so grateful that I had signed up to spend a larger chunk of time with the Theological Horizons team. 

As an Intern and a Fellow, the chunks in my calendar designated to TH are set apart from the rest of my commitments (and not just because they have their own color in my elaborate attempt at organization– one of my many outlets of procrastination). I step out of my frenetic pace and into the spaces that TH creates for me. These spaces are marked aside and often begin or end in prayer. Not only do I get to hear wisdom from vintage Christians on Fridays, I get to learn about their lives and read their quotes in preparation for sharing their words with students via weekly emails or social media posts. I get to receive wisdom and advice from my mentor who is further along in her walk with the Lord and is also passionate about caring for the community around her. Engaging in times of fellowship and encouragement extend beyond the times like evening prayer (here is a shameless plug for y’all – Wednesdays at 6pm, Lawn Room 47 West) or monthly Horizons meetings. It is in our weekly planning meetings where Christy will catch us up on the latest episode of On Being and Karen will read a piece to bring us into prayer and a time of sharing (this was where I learned of the spiritual practice of statio – taking intentional time during transitions to rest in the moment.) Fridays spent in the office with Megan offer a time to catch up from the week as either of us work on various duties as interns (often involving envelopes) – we give each other briefings on what has happened and how we’ve been doing with the quiet times (Megan is a seasoned pro at making these happen in her own busy schedule, I am often in awe). Perhaps the highlight of both of our semesters, has been the steady supply of trail mix available in the office (aside from the times when our fellow intern, Garrett, has stolen all the chocolate). 

Fittingly, I had not taken a break long enough to reflect on how I spent my time over this semester until it was over. Looking back, I am able to fully appreciate all of the different ways that my time with TH draws me out of my calendar and myself and into a beloved community. In a time in my life when the next step is uncertain, I am unbelievably grateful to Theological Horizons and the people it has led me to and the restful times it has given to me. 

What Does Every College Kid Need? Good Friends. - Jodie Berndt

We are doing a book give away of Jodie's new book, Praying the Scriptures for your Adult Children! Email us your name and mailing address by midnight, Friday, January 12th and we'll announce the winners early next week!

I remember the high school counselor asking Robbie and me what we were looking for in a college for Hillary, our eldest. He expected, I guess, for us to say something like “affordable tuition” or “strong academic reputation” or even something lofty, like “opportunities to pursue bio-medical research.” I think the guy was a little stunned when I gave him my answer:  I wanted my daughter to go someplace where she would make good friends and enjoy strong Christian fellowship.

Fellowship is a tricky word. Author John Ortberg says it is “churchy,” and that it “suggests basements and red punch and awkward conversations.” I get that. But I also understand what Ortberg means when he says that fellowship is something we can’t live without. And when the time came to send Hillary—and then later, her siblings—off to college, my first prayers were for them to find life-giving friendships, the kind marked by things like loyalty, joy, and a vibrant commitment to Christ.

God answered those prayers, but the road to connectedness has not always been easy, or quick. I remember dropping Hillary off at U.Va. on Move-In Weekend. Someone had chalked a cheery greeting on the sidewalk steps: 

The words held such promise! But, two months later, as the newness wore off and homesickness set in, they seemed almost hollow. Hillary had a great roommate and her life swirled with classes and social activities, but she had not yet discovered “her people.” There was friendship space that had yet to be filled.

Our kids need good friends. We can’t make them for them, but we can certainly ask God to provide. And as we pray for this need—as we partner with God to accomplish his good purposes in our kids’ lives—let’s look to the Scriptures for insight on what matters most. There are, obviously, all sorts of ways we might pray; here are three of my top friendship requests:

Constancy. The Bible offers several portraits of friendships marked by loyalty, dependability, and faithfulness:  Jonathan and David. Ruth and Naomi. And of course Jesus, the one who promised to be with us “always, to the very end of the age” (Matthew 28:20). Let’s ask God to give our kids faithful friends and to draw them into a life-giving relationship with Jesus, the one who gave up his life “for his friends” (John 15:13).

Next, Transparency. When I was a student at U.Va., I had two roommates (Susan and Barbie), and we gave each other permission to be what we called “brutally honest.” It didn’t matter if we were critiquing an iffy outfit or confronting each other about a questionable behavior; we spoke the truth. We tried to do so with love, but even the gentlest rebukes sometimes hurt. “Faithful,” Proverbs 27:6 says, “are the wound of a friend.” Let’s ask God to give our college kids friends like that—friends with whom they can admit their mistakes and find restoration, forgiveness, and genuine love.

And finally, let’s pray that our kids will enjoy friendship with other believers, the “fellowship of the Holy Spirit” that Paul talks about in 2 Corinthians 13:14, the kind that fosters connection, not just on the natural level, but also in the deepest recesses of the soul. Friendships forged around common interests (sports teams, Greek life, good books) are wonderful, but when the common ground of eternity comes into play, the most satisfying relationships—the kind that transcend things like race, age, and socioeconomic background—can take root. Let’s ask God to surround our children with friends who will “spur them on toward love and good deeds” and run alongside them as they “pursue righteousness, faith, love, and peace.” (Hebrews 10:24, 2 Timothy 2:22)

If you like praying this way—taking the words we find in the Bible, and using them to give shape to our prayers—you’ll find hundreds of prayer prompts in my new book, Praying the Scriptures for Your Adult Children. In addition to the prayers about friendship, the book covers grown-up needs like getting a job, resisting the party culture, and making the transition to adulthood with wisdom, purpose, and grace.

It doesn’t matter how old our kids are, or how far away they may go. We never stop loving them. We never stop wanting God’s best for their lives. We might not be able to pick their friends (or anything else they might choose), but we can pray. We can slip our hand into God’s—the One who loves them enough, and is powerful enough, to do more than all we could ask or imagine—and trust him to do what he promised.

It is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose. (Philippians 2:13)

_____________________________________

Jodie Berndt is a 1984 graduate of The University of Virginia and a former co-chair of the U.Va. Parents Fund Committee. The author of nine books (including the popular Praying the Scriptures series), Jodie is a speaker, writer, and Bible teacher. Find her writing at JodieBerndt.com, or connect with her on Facebook (Jodie Berndt Writes), Instagram (@jodie_berndt), and Twitter (@jodieberndt).

Jodie and her husband, Robbie (Class of 1985), have four Wahoo children and two Hokie sons-in-law. Which, except during football season, is not such a bad thing.

A Sonnet for Epiphany by Malcolm Guite

It might have been just someone else’s story,
Some chosen people get a special king.
We leave them to their own peculiar glory,
We don’t belong, it doesn’t mean a thing.
But when these three arrive they bring us with them,
Gentiles like us, their wisdom might be ours;
A steady step that finds an inner rhythm,
A  pilgrim’s eye that sees beyond the stars.
They did not know his name but still they sought him,
They came from otherwhere but still they found;
In temples they found those who sold and bought him,
But in the filthy stable, hallowed ground.
Their courage gives our questing hearts a voice
To seek, to find, to worship, to rejoice.

To listen to Guite explain and read his poem, click here. 

The shimmer of angels' wings: Advent 3

The Annunciation by Malcolm Guite

We see so little, stayed on surfaces,
We calculate the outsides of all things,
Preoccupied with our own purposes
We miss the shimmer of angels' wings.
They coruscate around us in their joy,
A swirl of wheels & eyes & wings unfurled;
They guard the good
we purpose to destroy,
A hidden blaze of glory in God's world.
But on this day a young girl stopped to see
With open eyes and heart. 
She heard the voice--
The promise of his glory yet to be
As time stood still for her to make a choice.
Gabriel knelt & not a feather stirred.
The Word himself was waiting on her word.
 

Magnificat by Mary F.C. Pratt

Under pine trees in the snow,
the chickadees around my head,
I wept for the will of God,
this hungry woman fed.
All the shadows shifted,
while my back was turned.
Once and always on my finger
one soft and small gray bird.
Not a twisting due to prayer
but all its own, and mine together.
And so I bear the gift,
carry it through time--
this deepest darkness.
astonishing grace.
 

Capps Lecture with Dr. Stanley Hauerwas Slideshow

Photos by the talented Lauren Stonestreet of our Capps Lecture with Dr. Stanley Hauerwas. To watch the lecture, click here.