The following is the farewell speech I gave at the Final Symposium, celebrating the end of our time in Oxford.
<><><>
I'm half British. My understanding of the
UK though was some sort of strange blend of C. S. Lewis, Harry Potter, and
Downton Abbey - as if all three of them had a baby, and the baby was me. I
thought that by coming here, I would find some sort of connection to my
ancestry. I would discover my roots. I would identify with the British people
and the British culture.
But
I didn't. Although I have loved my time here, I found that I miss Hulu,
Pandora, Target, and sunshine. I miss driving a car and serving sizes the size
of my face. I found that I am not British. I am an American, through and
through. And that's the problem.
It's
a problem because my identity should be in Christ first.
In The
Cost of Discipleship, Bonhoeffer talks about abandoning all that we have
and all that we are until the only thing we can cling to is Christ. Christ
calls us to a life of sacrifice and suffering, but all I want to do is get some
In N Out and lay out by a pool.
I didn't
come here to find beauty. If I am honest, I came here because I wanted to. I
distinctly remember the chat I had with God that was more like a monologue. I
remember boldly telling Him that I was
going to apply and I was going to go
to Oxford. But like all good Christians, I covered my tracks by convincing
myself that I would let God lead my life by allowing
Him to deny me to the program. If I was rejected, I wouldn't apply again
because I was obedient, yet He and I both knew that it was only because this
semester was the only time I could travel.
But our
God is a God of grace, and He sent me here and He taught me things that no
tutor could.
My blog's
title is Finding Yofi. I'm probably pronouncing it wrong, but yofi is
the Hebrew word for beauty. Over the last couple of years, I have
been actively seeking to find beauty in all the wrong places, all the mundane
places, all the places that our chaotic lives and glamorous culture teach us to
ignore. It's not hard to find beauty in Oxford. Everything is beautiful here -
the shops, the libraries, the very building we are sitting in. We don't have to
look far and we don't have to try hard to become settled and content in the
magic and wonder.
One
of our friends who we have made this term from another school was over for
dinner a few weeks ago. My flatmate and I were talking about our time with
Mexico Outreach, and this friend asked if Mexico was pretty. I said yes, but
it's not a normal kind of pretty - as if there is some sort of secret beauty
that only some people are able to understand.
And there
is.
There
is the beauty of Christ. There is the beauty of the cross, a murderous weapon
of shame and pain that somehow has become a symbol for the last two thousand
years of grace, love, and hope.
I'm
finding yofi here in Oxford, but sometimes I wonder if it is
too good to be true.
If it's a
faith that is simple that is a faith that is best, then I've got a faith that is much too complex.
I've
believed a lie that the more I know, then the better I will love, but the truth
is that I am at the mercy of the God
from up above.
I
try to figure God out like He's a topic to study, like if I read enough books
in the Gladstone Link then I will finally understand. Maybe that was also the
desire of the first man. Of Adam, the guy who wanted to know what God knew. The
guy who lost it all and suffered not because he represented Christ and chased
after His grace, but because he identified with himself and bought the cheapest
understanding he could find.
In my own
life, my faith is one of how much I can learn and how much I can know. It's not
the costly faith that Bonhoeffer preaches of. It's not yofi. My
faith, it costs me nothing. Sometimes I even think I bought it at Primark.* In
my head I have memorized a lot, but in my heart I know little of the suffering
that Christ endured, little of the martyrdom that Bonhoeffer was subjected to.
My God is a pocket full of sunshine, and although these Oxford skies may be
grey and dreary, I risk little and expect all the blessing.
We know
that knowledge isn't cheap in dollars. We know that APU charges more for two
semesters than the average American makes in a year. But what if we spent the
same amount of time, money, and effort on the Kingdom than we did on our
diploma? I'm not saying education isn't good, and I'm not saying our school is
bad - I am saying that where our treasure is, there our hearts will be also.
I
encourage all of you as this chapter of our lives comes to a close to find the yofi wherever
you go. Even when the food isn't good and the pub doesn't have enough ketchup.
Even when the air is cold. Even when we have to be somewhere early in the
morning. I encourage you to seek for the higher grace, the more expensive
grace, the grace that costs us yet gives us all the more.
* Primark
is a budget clothing store in the UK. Very cute. Very cheap. Very low quality.
No comments:
Post a Comment