The Year of Small Things (Or, how Christian teaching gave my dissertation and my life more meaning)

2013 was a year of doing small things. I served as a music minister in a small church, I played concerts in small venues to small audiences, I taught a couple of small classes to undergraduates, and I struggled over the daily small tasks of dishes and laundry and tidying up. 2013 was also the year I finished my dissertation -- not a small thing as a personal accomplishment -- but quite a small thing in scope and significance and in the smallness of its mundane requirements. Writing a dissertation involves toiling away over small tasks: 1,000 words here, 1,000 words there; hours poring over an obscure book, trying to find that one important piece of information; the annoyance of organizing and re-organizing; the victory of a complete paragraph, a complete page, and finally, slowly, a complete chapter, all culminating in a small volume on a big shelf, in a bigger library of thousands of obscure works that only a handful of people will ever read.

I am not trying to downplay my work here, but in the grand scheme of things, a dissertation just doesn't seem that important -- and all these small things stood out this year against that "Grand Scheme." Death and loss marked this year, and perhaps because of that death and loss, my mind had difficulty focusing on the small tasks necessary to my everyday life as larger questions about "Life Purpose" and "Eternity" and "Making a Difference" clouded my brain.  I wanted to exchange these small things for big, important ones. I wanted to know that when I died, God would say to me, "well done, good and faithful servant."

So I turned, as I so often have, to the Bible, searching, frantically for that parable of the good servant, and here is what I found:

“Again, it [the kingdom of heaven] will be like a man going on a journey, who called his servants and entrusted his wealth to them. To one he gave five bags of gold, to another two bags, and to another one bag,[a] each according to his ability. Then he went on his journey. The man who had received five bags of gold went at once and put his money to work and gained five bags more. So also, the one with two bags of gold gained two more. But the man who had received one bag went off, dug a hole in the ground and hid his master’s money.

“After a long time the master of those servants returned and settled accounts with them. The man who had received five bags of gold brought the other five. ‘Master,’ he said, ‘you entrusted me with five bags of gold. See, I have gained five more.’

His master replied, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!’ (Matt. 25:14-21)

The only requirement of these servants was to invest what they had been given -- even if it was small. (If you read the rest of the story, you'll see that the servant with only two bags also received praise). All that was necessary was faithfulness in the small things. I felt my frantic mind calm as I understood that the right thing for me to do that day was to go back to my office and type my thousand words and conduct my research with diligence; for it was that faithful work on the small things to which I had been called and which would give my life meaning.



The importance of these small things became a theme for the year. My "epiphany" came in the summer, during the depths of my dissertation drudgery. In September at church, we did a series on work and faith, where I was reminded of the significance of my daily work for the building of Christ's Kingdom. And this Christmas, I remembered the small things again, in the prophetic words of Micah:

    But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah, though you are small among the clans of Judah,

out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel,

whose origins are from of old, from ancient times.” (Micah 5:2)

I had often heard people comment on the significance of the insignificance of Jesus's tribe and His poor teenage mother and the dirty manger and the lowly shepherds, but this year it struck me in a fresh way.

Christianity is not a good choice of religion if you value grandeur or status symbols. Instead, Christian teaching points to a God who values the small, the lowly, the insignificant; "the foolish things of the world to shame the wise...the weak things of the world to shame the strong...the lowly things of this world and the despised things—and the things that are not—to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him" (1 Cor. 1:27-29).


This year I learned that, though it may not feel like it, each tiny, faithful, quotidian act is like a small, messy point of color in an impressionist painting that will, in time, reveal itself as a masterpiece called The Kingdom of Heaven. And you'd think (or maybe only I would think) that each dot would represent the work of a missionary or a minister or maybe a well-known Christian songwriter or author, but I'm starting to believe that those smudges of color comprise, miraculously, faithful music practices for our tiny congregation, a cleared out dishwasher, a painstakingly-graded student essay, a note of encouragement, a paragraph of thoughtful scholarship, a meal, a cup of coffee, a conversation -- a blog entry, perhaps.

God takes these small acts of work and service and makes them part of the biggest, most important thing of all, so that no moment, no life can be wasted for those who truly seek to glorify God in all they do.

Here's to a 2014 of small things.

ru’mi-nate: to chew the cud; to muse; to meditate; to think again; to ponder

Here at Thinking through Christianity, we try to be a place that points to good art at the intersection of faith. We do this because imagination is crucial to Christianity and because art speaks to us about the world and ourselves, telling the Truth better than exposition.

Since 2006, our friends at Ruminate Magazine have been a beacon in the darkness that can all too often be Christianity and the Arts---both the fear of and subsequent disdain for contemporary "secular" art and the muck of mediocre "christian" art.

Allow me to let them tell you a little about themselves:

Ruminate is a quarterly magazine of short stories, poetry, creative nonfiction, and visual art that resonate with the complexity and truth of the Christian faith. Each issue is a themed forum for literature and art that speaks to the existence of our daily lives while nudging us toward a greater hope. Because of this, we strive to publish quality work accounting for the grappling pleas, as well as the quiet assurances of an authentic faith. Ruminate Magazine... was created by a group of fellow writers, artists, and believers who wanted a space for the thoughtful expressions of those who are nudged forward, backward, and sideways by faith in God.

Speak. Grapple. Nudge. This is art---life.

The magazine's most recent issue, "In Search of Song," includes a short story from my friend and colleague LaToya Watkins titled, "The Mother." As a means of giving props to LaToya and enticing you to check out the magazine for yourself, here's an excerpt:

The visits done died down a little bit now. Some still come. The rustlers like this on sitting in front of me. They still asking bout Hawk. Bout how he come to call hisself the Messiah. Bout who his daddy is, but I ain't got nothing for them.

I look out the window I keep my chair pulled up next to. Ain't no sun, just cold and still. Banjo lift his head up when he see my eyes on him, but it don't take him long to let it fall back on his paws. He done got his rope a little tangled up. Can't move too much with it like that, but he can breathe and lay down. He alright. I'll go out and work out the knot when I can--when this gal leave.

...

I move my eyes away from the window and put them on the girl. She got a long bird face and her teeth stick out a little too far for her tiny mouth. I can tell by the way the sides of her mouth drooping down, she ain't used to being in a place like mine. I don't want to make her feel more uncomfortable, so I don't say nothing bout the pregnant looking roach crawling slow up the wood-paneled wall behind her head.

"I reckon peoples be just like them trees, you see?" Her face blank. I can tell she don't see. "Everybody got a season to go through being ugly and naked." I laugh a little bit. 

"Yes, ma'am," she say. Then she sigh and let her eyes roll halfway round in the sockets. "We all have problems, but can we--"

"That enough heat on you?" I ask. "Can't never keep this old lean-to warm. That enough heat on you--" I stop myself from calling her "miss". I want to spank the back of my own hand. She younger than me. Probably bout by twenty years or more. Still, I want to make sure that the old electric heater sitting on the cracked and splintered floor near her feet humming is doing what it's supposed to do. Sometimes it blow cold air instead heat like it's supposed to. I want to make sure it ain't freezing her.

She look confused bout my question. Them lines in her head get deeper, and she start shaking her foot a little. She want her story for the paper. Want to find out if I think my son was God like them folks what was following behind him in Abilene. 

Are you hooked yet? Order your copy here.

Great Expectations

I'm struggling with expectations.  I'm 33, recently married and in (I feel) a mediocre job.  I stand at a crossroads.  Years ago I created a simple plan to accomplish by the time I turned 30.  I wanted to achieve a good education, solid and varied work experience and travel overseas at least a few time.

I'm proud to say I accomplished those goals.  I expected at 30 I could then shift into career mode and easily find a great job.  I never expected to get married young; not before 25, I thought.  The extra eight years of waiting, though, became increasingly confusing and conflicting.

I look at my friends and my parents and their friends and wonder, "Are they living up to their expectations?"  For the most part I'd say no.  The economy hit everyone hard recently and many of my parent's generation ended up laid off or with hours cut.  Many in my generation are underemployed and over-educated.  Many of my friends want marriage but have no prospects.

(I do live in Portland where 'young people go to retire', so perhaps my views are skewed.)

Standing at 33 and looking forward to the rest of my life I think, "What now?"  Kids?  Should I start adjusting my life now for children I may bear in the next few years?  Career?  Should I continue to search for the career I dream about?  Do I even know what that is anymore?  House?  Should I get a part-time job on top of my full-time one to help save for the down payment?  And the real question: Do I want any of this struggle?

And the most real question through all this: Where is God?  I am faithful, work hard, pray, go to church and even went to seminary.  Why don't I get my heart's desire?  What expectations should I have of God and of God to deliver on the things I expect?

In my very limited experience with people in cultures with less access to material resources, I realized they rarely struggle with similar expectations.  Why?  They never thought they could 'have' all these things.  Maybe they can and will, but it was never expected.

As hard as it is to realize, especially when popular Christianity espouses otherwise, we shouldn't expect God to give us any of these things.  Nor should we expect to be able to necessarily achieve them through hard work.

What can we expect of God?  I think we can expect Him to treat us with the respect commanded by His creating us in His image.  I think we can expect Him to follow-through on loving us.  I think we can expect Him to forgive us over and over and over.

Unfortunately, we aren't taught to expect those things.  We're taught to expect perfect relationships, material objects and full realization of all our dreams. 

The Car Crash

One night, I was driving my pickup down the highway with my friend Tim, when Tim pointed out his window and told me a car was "down there."

"Hmm." I said.

"No, you don't understand," Tim explained in a rush, "Cars can't be down there."

After a moment I realized he was right. We were driving on an elevated part of the highway, any cars below us would be on a steep incline far from any road; there must have been an accident.

I stopped the car and we started jogging down the hill. When we got closer to the car we could see that it was totaled and that it had been crushed violently on many sides. Also, there was a woman stumbling around.

Tim called the police while I checked on the woman. She was incredibly dazed but she seemed perfectly fine. After I started talking to her she began to tell me about her problems. Being in a car crash was nothing, she was going through some rough stuff and this accident was just enough to make her a little nuts. She was depressed and was dealing with some difficult and complex issues that weighed her down. She talked like she had given up hope.

"Look at your car." I told her, "It's totaled. Every part of this car has been crushed except for a small area around the driver's seat, just enough room for a person to survive a crash like this!"

She looked at the car, for the first time since leaving it, and she was amazed. Anyone sitting in the back seat or the front passenger seat would have been killed as the car was severely flattened in those areas. The car was so badly damaged it looked like a pile of scrap, but around the driver's seat there was no damage. It was uncanny to see a car flattened except for one small part. It looked like God had simply put her in His hand while the car tumbled so He could keep her safe. I told her to take heart, Someone was looking after her.

Someone is looking after me, too and I need to remember it each day. God is looking after me, he cares about me, even though I can't always see it. Sure, life is hard, but He is going to carry me through those hard times.