Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Where We've Been

A year and a half ago, the staff and students of Cal Christian Fellowship found themselves asking questions like:

What is our purpose on this campus? 
Is our only goal to get a piece of the Christian pie (i.e., find as many Christian freshmen to join our club as possible)? 
Is there more that God wants to do in and through our community?
What would it look like if we believed and pursued the "more" that God has for us?

God gave them scripture verses that guided the discernment process: the Tower of Babel in Genesis 11, and the call of Abram in Genesis 12. Students saw themselves as the people building the tower of Babel, laboring to have something to show for themselves, something that can protect them and serve as a sign of their significance. They want to "make a name for themselves."

In the competitive environment of Cal, students are under pressure to perform well academically, score prestigious internships and jobs, and pursue extracurricular activities that will look good on resumes. But the very things that seem to promise joy and peace and fulfillment in the future bring much anxiety, guilt, and sadness in the present. The promise of a tower to protect their lives actually binds them to the smallness of what they can see and build with their own hands. It becomes a prison.

In Genesis 12, we see God promising to make Abram's name great. Abram sets out, journeying in stages, in pursuit of this promise. Along the way, he builds altars. We've been asking what it could look like to build altars testifying to God's faithfulness in different campus communities instead of towers that testify to our own fear and pride.

This sounds awesome, but it's a lot harder to put it into practice. How much has the mentality of "perform according to external standards" influenced the ways staff and students alike have approached their ministries? It goes pretty deep, we discovered during a session in which we asked students to brainstorm a document of communal commitments that they could sign.

This conversation turned into a tense discussion about how we wanted to enforce attendance/timeliness at meetings. A minor issue suddenly seemed very important, with strong opinions on both sides. We realized that we had come into the conversation with a few assumptions:

-This group is subject to rules that are placed on individuals from "the outside".
-These rules define what is allowed and what is not.
-In other words, membership is contingent on meeting these expectations.

Then we reframed the conversation to be an answer to the question, "What kind of community would we like to be part of? What values would that community live out, and how might that look? What kind of meeting would we want to go to?"

This is an example of how we are learning how to approach our endeavors differently. It's a process that requires us not just to be thoughtful, but also to be willing to ask questions when we get uncomfortable--and willing to hear the answers.

Terminology

Because one of the things about a new place is ... they have different words for stuff!


  • CCF (Cal Christian Fellowship) | ivccf.org
    • Oldest Christian fellowship at UC Berkeley
    • One of six InterVarsity groups at Cal: CCF is the multi-ethnic chapter
    • The others are for International Students, Greek (Sorority and Fraternity) students, Black students, Latino students, and Filipino students. These sister fellowships have a covenant together outlining the ways they commit to be family for one another.
  • Experience, Embody, and Share the Unconditional Love of God | our CCF vision
  • Focus Group
    • Biblestudy/community groups on campus, usually with a particular focus (engineering, women's identity and sexuality, social justice, etc.)
  • Discipleship Cohort (DC)
    • The 22 students who lead focus groups and dorm biblestudies
    • Meets weekly with staff to receive training and form a leadership community
  • Core
    • Students helping organize, vision for, and lead focus groups
    • Being discipled by Discipleship Cohort leaders
  • Large group
    • Fellowship-wide gathering with worship, announcements, activities, and Bible exposition
    • Every two weeks

the longest distance between two points

I'm two and a half months into my transition, and I confess, it has already cut straight through my defenses to deep places, the places of calling, identity, trust, hope, and love. The first week I was here, I thought my feelings of vulnerability stemmed from the fact that I didn't know my way around the city--a geographical disorientation. The second week, I realized there were layers of loneliness--people here didn't yet know me, so I felt as though I had to be on my best behavior when meeting them. The third week, I began to suspect something along the lines of a second depressive episode and resumed an antidepressant I'd been taking before. The fourth week, I only had space in my mind for sharp, unrelenting fears that convinced me of my own helplessness and inadequacy because I could not longer do my job--meeting and interacting with people, planning events, and implementing ministry structures.

It's been a harrowing road from that time to this. On the way, there have been many falls and many tears. The map that I had coming into this experience--expectations about how it would look to live here, what it would feel like to be on a new campus, and how long it would take to settle in--this map has been erased and redrawn many times. What I've seen is that I tend to draw straight lines because I'm looking for the shortest distance between two points. God's lines seldom follow my patterns. His lines weave in and out, up and down, back and forth all across the page, and halfway in, I despair that they will ever arrive at a destination. Yet how many great works of art have been created using only straight lines?

I've had to wrestle with the oversimplified view I have of how God works. Part of this has been challenging the polarities I use to decode the world: that is good, that is bad, this is easy, this is hard, this is a time when I should be mourning, and this is a time when I should be rejoicing. It is so, so difficult not to choose one side over the other. Sometimes I get in mourning mood and everything is so hard, so sad, so heavy. Then when God brings me an opportunity to rejoice, I reject it, and become even more lopsided in my lifestyle.

Yet in moments of deep joy, or even in moments of relative calm, anxious thoughts and feelings can still make their presence known. I tend to push these sensations away, distracting myself to avoid feeling them. I again lose touch with the living God who is in tune with this aspect of me and all humans.

I'm beginning to see that all of this complexity, as frustrating and confusing as it's been, is exactly the place God meets me. Because I can't hold the different pieces together on my own, I need someone with a way bigger perspective to get involved (see Colossians 1:17). The journey has involved steeping in the ways I already know how to relate to God--prayer, musical worship, Bible reading--as well as new discoveries--cognitive behavioral therapy, self-compassion, and mindfulness.

God is blazing a new path in my soul, and it is equally exciting and unnerving. It's what I signed up for when I decided to move, but it has looked SO different than I expected.