Sacred

I receive a disproportionate amount of joy from very minor things. When the hook of my favourite song of the week hits at 8 in the morning as I prepare for class. A professor who asks me at the beginning of an exam if my Superman T-shirt will give me X-ray vision. Blasting Footloose at the 80s party I planned for our Christian Fellowship. Jogging along the dykes when the spring sun finally makes an appearance in Nova Scotia. Splurging on chai lattes and London Fogs at Just Us and smoothies at Pete’s. Sitting in a sun beam at morning chapel like a contented, purring kitten. Blasting Billy Joel on a long road trip. 

Amongst all of these happenings, I live with a regular amount of angst by university student standards. My problems are maturing with me, aka less unrequited crushes and flubbed auditions and more family drama, monthly budgets and income tax forms. I’m approaching the big 20th birthday this summer, my friends are getting engaged, and I oddly still feel like I’m 15. A 15 year old with a demanding university course load, but a 15 year old nonetheless. Chances are I’m in denial about the more permanent parts of growing up. Before we delve into amateur psychology, though, I thought I’d start off with a little update for those of you who read this blog to keep up with my life (the joke’s on you, though, because I’m notoriously bad at writing these days) instead of just to hear me grouse about the state of human existence.

About a week ago, I wrote my last exam for my second year of my undergraduate degree. About a month ago, I made a decision to switch from a regular double major in English to a double major plus a second honours in English, aka I have signed up for double the academic punishment in my final two years of university. So, if you ask, I’m a Bachelor of Science with Honours in Mathematics hopeful, with a second major in the realm of a Bachelor of Arts with Honours in English. The ambitious, academic loving side of my personality is easily seduced by the thought of taking highly focused, research based Honour Seminars. Bring on the tears and late night existential crises. I can’t wait. 

In terms of school, I have fallen unabashedly in love with my chosen courses of study. I took a course on Tolkien, his sources and the Lord of the Rings mythology in the fall that fed the geekiest parts of my soul. I had a productive semester determining which Middle Earth hero I would most likely fall in love with. I also took a Canadian literature course that quickly became one of my favourite courses, mock trials and all. Even with a reading list populated by repressed pastors’ wives and axe murderers, I enjoyed myself immensely. This year, I also found myself entering a happy, respectful relationship with stats. Besides the fact that its accessible formulas made for a nice reprieve from the headier discipline of literature, it’s also a field of the mathematical realm that has very tangible applications to the world around us without requiring a whole lot of conceptual knowledge. Graph Theory and I entered a mind-bending, exhaustive relationship this winter, but I think I emerged with a healthy respect and enjoyment of the subtleties of mathematical proof. 

In terms of life, I have learned many important things in the past few months. A, how not to fall and break your skull open on thick sheets of ice. B, Canadian winter is best in small doses, aka not all 5/6 months of it. C, when you start celebrating 5 degree Celsius weather, that’s a bad sign. D, there’s nothing like the bond forged out of the commiseration brought about by bad weather. I feel like I have been at least partially initiated into Canadian culture now. Maybe my journey will be complete when I spot my first moose? 

In other news, I have learned the great joy of having my own personal space furnished to look and feel like a real home. I have learned to cook, with a modest degree of success. I have learned to roll with the punches of late night fire alarms and broken water heaters and a consistently dysfunctional stove. I also have learned the joy of living with two great roommates. A random, last minute pairing has turned into a truly magical sisterhood, leading us all to the conclusion that

it was indeed God smiling down on the chaos of our decision to live together. Robyn, from Vancouver. Chipo, from Nairobi. Davita, most recently from Nairobi. We share our volume of voice and volume of personality. We also share academic and professional ambition. We also share a unique sense of humour. Quickly, all personal boundaries were crossed, and all secrets were revealed. We became the friends who keep each other humble by laughing at each other’s pain and the sticky situations we would find ourselves in. When going out in public together, we almost always made a scene of some sort and by we, I mean Robyn and I while Chipo walked away embarrassed. We also watched the most recent season of The Bachelor, and ultimately got so invested that our frustration with the end of the season turned into lengthy rants. I have lived and laughed deeply with these two girls and my experience of this year has been richer for it.

Finally, I have spent a great amount of this year extending my network of friends more deeply within

the community. In the winter, I continued with my math tutoring from the fall, but this time, had the company of my crazy stats grad student friends, Kanika and Andy. I can only dream of the shenanigans we will unleash on the math department for the next year. We, along with ort friend Mohsin, formed a Bollywood dance troupe for the International Banquet. To say that it was a frustrating experience is to put it lightly. To say that I have never laughed so much while performing bhangra is not an understatement. I’ve also spent the year acting as Tim, campus chaplain and Wolfville’s resident Sith Lord’s minion. Serving in the campus chapel has brought me into contact with an odd cross section of campus and the wider community. In the midst of this job, I’ve been able to be involved in special services in the community, from the Remembrance Day ceremony to an Advent service to the chapel’s anniversary to the local ecumenical Good Friday service. Beside the fact that I was well rewarded for my work (McDonald’s trips primarily), it’s been fun to have some experience beyond the young adult demographic. After all, the existential crisis of the twenty-something is only interesting up to a certain point.

I’ve also taken an active role in the life of Wolfville Baptist. In fact, I’ve made the rather important decision to be baptized there this summer. From the bizarre variety shows to choral cantatas, this family of God is never dull. Similarly, I have enjoyed a new year of frustration and growth serving with Acadia Christian Fellowship. With both hard changes taking root in the community, joyful communities being born and some really important mentorship relationships being forged, I continue to learn both practical skills and spiritual lessons. Our small groups journeyed through Exodus with Moses this semester. Moses’ sense of inadequacy and deep identity crisis resonated in very clear ways with my own sense of calling to personal ministry and to this small little town of Wolfville.

I don’t think I’ve ever really recognized the trajectory of my journey as a whole, or in a conceptual fashion. Rather, I have had striking moments of truth and inspiration along the way that fill in the blanks. I credit it to my understanding of God and spirituality. But I also freely admit that I have no clear sense of the right answers. The more people I meet, the more stories I hear, the less I’m inclined to make sweeping statements about certain groups of people. The more stories I hear though, the more I’m inclined to making my life one of significance and one of action. Acadia has seen an outcry of voices on the issue of campus rape culture. Although sexual assault is a horrendous breach of personhood that I can’t begin to understand, I know that I want to be part of the conversation of changing cultural understandings of gender and sexuality. I also want to find a place for myself in the wider spectrum of community services that serve the marginalized and disadvantaged. So, I continually have new opportunities to seek out. 

The other night, I found myself in a cave with my friend Carrie and some of her fellow Covenant College students. We turned our headlamps off and sang for a little while. The space became

sacred in that moment. Ultimately, I think that’s
what I’m really looking for. Adventure and sacred spaces. Each of those moments I mentioned at the beginning of this post have taken on a spiritual, sacred meaning to me in these past months. They are a distant reminder that God is in fact who he says he is, even when everything in my life contradicts it…

In our Exodus studies, one of our last passages was from Exodus 33. After the golden calf incident, God has said that he must remove His Presence from the journey of the Israelites because they are a stiff-necked people. Moses, in conversation, asks God to reconsider, “If your Presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here. How will anyone know that you are pleased with me and with your people unless you go with us? What else will distinguish me and your people from all the other people on the face of the earth?” Moses’ request is bold, but it is also desperate. His identity has become so irreversibly wrapped up in his leadership partnership with God as he has led his people out of slavery. To move forward without God’s presence is to move forward without identity. In some ways, Moses asks too much of God. The Israelites have been grouchy, combative, and subversive with both God and Moses. They have been given a number of second, third, fourth chances and still they defy God and Moses’ leadership. So, really, if this was a question of deserving, God’s decision would have been clear. But, we learn at the beginning when God calls Moses that it has nothing to do with his qualifications, it has everything to do with God’s presence. Here, we see that it has nothing to do with the Israelite’s suitability, but has everything to do with God’s presence in relationship with Moses. 

Going forward, I need Presence. I need the Spirit of justice, adventure, love, and joy that has captured my heart and soul to go with me. What else distinguishes me from my peers? My peers who suffer from physical and emotional abuse, who suffer from mental illness and depression, who are victims of sexual assault and other kinds of violence, who suffer from loneliness and a lack of clear direction for their life. I cannot pretend to share their experience, but I share a common bewilderment at the pain and difficulty that life can be. With the Spirit of God within me, I am therefore distinguished quite simply by redemptive hope. A hope that I should share, in word and deed. 

I also need the spaces that are made sacred by God's presence in my life. The other stuff, my to-do list, my schedule, is all important too. But, it tires me out and in the interest of balance, the sum total of my life must be more than that. As I walk through the metaphorical desert, I need a guiding hand to guide me to food, water and rest. The reason the wilderness metaphor works so well, is it embodies a place of basic instinct and survival. Sometimes life can feel like an exercise in day to day survival, so it’s comforting to have remnants of the sacred in the midst of our seasons in the wilderness. 

“Fire before us, you’re the brightest. You will lead us through the storms. Fire before us, you’re the brightest. You will lead us through the storms. My lighthouse, my lighthouse. Shining in the darkness, I will follow you. My lighthouse, my lighthouse. I will trust the promise, you will carry me safe to shore. Safe to shore. Safe to shore."