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Reflection on God and Learning
by Anna Plantinga

In C.S. Lewis’ essay Learning in War-Time, he opens with the question of whether it is right, or morally responsible, to devote our lives to learning. Is academia a frivolous waste of time, when we could be telling people about Jesus, or is there a deeper significance to a life of learning? And if learning is worthwhile on an eternal scale, are some questions more worthy than others?

I am convinced that the academic life is right and fitting for Christians. Much of what we do in academia is a pursuit of learning, which for us is a pursuit of both truth and beauty. Augustine says something along the lines of “all truth is God’s truth,” and King David, in the psalms – along with countless others – admires God’s beauty reflected in the world. Any time we are seeking truth and beauty in a way that uses our gifts to their fullest extent, we are glorifying and seeking God.

Not only that, but learning is one of the ways we can love God. The oldest prayer in Judaism is this command from Deuteronomy: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength.” Jesus changes that command, saying “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.” Neal Plantinga, in Pray the Lord My Mind to Keep, says that the primary goal of Christians engaged in the intellectual life is “that we are trying to become better lovers. We want to love God with all our mind. Of course we want to offer our hearts to God… and the same with our souls. But we are also intellectual beings, and Jesus Christ calls us to mindful love; he calls us to intellectual love.” Intellectual love includes not just studying God Himself, but studying what God has made – both creation and humanity.

Still, are there better and worse questions for us to study? We are, time and again, called to care for “the least of these,” for the widows, the orphans, the sick, and the dispossessed. If we can care for these people through our work, it seems right and valuable to do so – and we need members of the Body of Christ to take up this call. But God takes a much longer view of our work than we can. If we, even though we are human and limited, can see that each person’s tiny contribution to the vast body of research brings our picture of the world and of humanity a little closer to reality, how much more might God, who sees the whole picture from the start – God, who is the ultimate Reality – call us to work towards that end? And since it is God who created the world in its unimaginable complexity and variety, and who created all of humanity, it is worthwhile for us to study it. All of it.

But even if we may rightly study any question, following Jesus in the academy does (or should) affect the way we do our work. Our faith does not necessarily change our pipetting technique, calculations, reading summaries, or code, but it should vastly change our priorities and attitudes. Our colleagues submit their work to journals and advisors; we, in addition, submit our work to God. Colossians 3:23 says, “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters.” What would it look like to write a research update for God? Could you give an honest and satisfying progress report on your work today, or this week, to the One who has called you to that work? Could I?

It seems to me that this approach to work fosters both humility and great encouragement. In contrast to so much of the academic life, which assumes that acceptance and respect are based on performance, we submit our work to God secure in the knowledge that our performance will never change his love for, or view of, us. We are therefore free from the need to sell our ideas more because they are ours than because they are right; from the desperate striving to write a paper that will prove our competence; from the insidious habit of comparing ourselves and our work to our peers. This is intellectual humility: we can celebrate our good ideas and academic successes without using them for our own glory, and celebrate others’ ideas and successes without jealousy. This is also great encouragement: we are free to love and enjoy learning for its own sake, and in so doing, love God with all of our minds.

This is the work we are called to do. We are called to seek God’s truth and God’s beauty in the truth and beauty of the works of His hands. We are called to express and deepen our love for God by loving the things God loves; by studying the people and the world that God has created; by helping them become more fully themselves. We are called to willing diligence, since we work not for ourselves or for our academic peers, but for God. We are called to humility and great encouragement, since God accepts our work as an offering of obedience and love.

Opening sentences:

My soul waits for the Lord more than those who watch for the morning,
more than those who watch for the morning.

Call: Out of the depths I have cried to You.
Response: O Lord, hear my voice.
Call: With my whole heart I want to praise You.
Response: O Lord, hear my voice.
Call: If you, Lord, should mark iniquities:
Response: Who could stand? who could stand?
I will wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in His word do I hope.

Reflection on Ash Wednesday:

Two years ago, my grandfather died. And unbeknownst to the family, my grandmother carried his ashes around in her purse for over a year. She ended up carrying them with her all the way from Washington to the National Dairy Expo in Madison, WI, a destination to which both she and my grandfather had made an annual pilgrimage for decades. There, at the Expo, to her two daughters chagrin, my grandmother produced their father’s ashes in a Ziploc bag. She told them that she wanted to spread them on the shavings where the cows they loved walked.

My mother and aunt pleaded for a different place. One with fewer people, fewer animals. And I’m not sure how, but they won her over and they ended up in a local park.

With a few close, dairy farmer friends and her daughters by her side, my grandma set to spreading her husband’s ashes. I understand that, with plastic hotel cups, they each scooped out and scattered around a bit of Mike Lancaster. They did it carefully because it was windy. But my grandmother wasn’t as careful as the rest. When her turn finally came, she popped her cup of ashes up into the sky.

And like in a scene from a movie, the wind caught the ashes and it just covered all of them.

My aunt had just put on lip gloss and so found her lips coated with my Grandpa’s remains.

Ashes.

I hadn’t thought much about them until I heard that story. What would it be like to have the ashes of your father stuck to your lips and in your hair and on your clothes?

The thing is, there’s something just right about the whole image because the dead have a way of sticking to us…sticking to us in sometimes the most unpleasant of ways.

And this isn’t too far from the meaning of Ash Wednesday. On this day, the first day of the season of Lent, we’re reminded that death sticks with us, that it has from the beginning. We’re reminded of our mortality, our frailty, and that finality is all around us.

From dust you came and to dust you will return are the words spoken with the imposition of ashes.

They’re words from the curse God speaks in Genesis. It is to say, without pretense, this is the way it is: You are going to die. In this life, there is sadness and sorrow. There is sin and suffering. There is bleakness beyond what we can sometimes bear.

These are the sorts of truths that, like death, we’d rather bury than carry around with us in our purses.

But on Ash Wednesday and over the course of Lent we take these truths and put them front and center to remember. From dust you came and to dust you will return. Ashes in the shape of a cross. A symbol of death.

But also a symbol of hope, of life.

And this is Ash Wednesday too. For when remember the way things really are, we remember what we really need and we open ourselves up to the possibility of what’s really to come. We’re reminded of our need for and the hope of Easter, that day when death was conquered, and the curse was broken.

From dust you came and to dust you will return.

Prayer:

God, death is sticky. Sorrow is sticky. Ours sins are the stickiest. We cannot shake these realities that we loathe. And so today we face them for just a moment, trusting that, with your nearness, we might have the courage to live in reality.

And we confess that our reality is so often strange and disappointing.
It’s confusing that life is short and hard. It frustrating that so much of our time is spent on monotonous tasks.

We want life abundant and joy and peace that passes understanding, but we settle for the worst things; relationships that hold us down, jobs that don’t use our gifts, addictions to things that drain us of life, binges that waste our time.

Sometimes our minds get stuck on endless loops of self-loathing lies.

Today we recognize that in our reality we get stuck. Just stuck.

And so we pray for freedom. Freedom from ourselves and the lies we tell.

We pray for love. To give and to receive it.

We pray for understanding, that in this short life we might have enough of it to live meaningfully, to see beyond the minor things to the things that truly matter.

We pray that we might actually grow, more and more, into the people you’d have us be.

We pray that death and sorrow and sin—those things that stick to us and weigh us down would be overshadowed by a greater reality—a reality you offer should we choose to see you as present in this life. A reality where we are endlessly loved, where we are forgiven all the time, where we have reason to hope, even when we doubt. A reality where the hope of Easter is daily before us.

And we pray that in this Lenten season we might live a little more into this reality each day.

Blessing:

God go before you to lead you, God go behind you to protect you, God go beneath you to support you, God go beside you to befriend you. Do not be afraid. May the blessing of God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit be upon you. Do not be afraid. Amen.

Opening sentences:

My soul waits for the Lord more than those who watch for the morning,
more than those who watch for the morning.

Call: Out of the depths I have cried to You.
Response: O Lord, hear my voice.
Call: With my whole heart I want to praise You.
Response: O Lord, hear my voice.
Call: If you, Lord, should mark iniquities:
Response: Who could stand? who could stand?
I will wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in His word do I hope.

Reflection on trust:
The following reflection is excerpted and adapted from “Can God Be Trusted?” by Neal Plantinga. The original article can be found here: http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/1998/june15/8t7045.html

He will cover you with his pinions, and under his wings you will find refuge. (Ps. 91:4, NRSV)

Children often have a unique sense of security in the nest — a sense that they are loved, protected, and perfectly safe. They know that somebody else is in charge, somebody big and strong and experienced. Adults no longer have this feeling, and we miss it.

We, too, need to be sheltered, warmed, embraced. Some of us aren’t sure what we’re doing in grad school or where we’re going with work. Some of us feel unspeakably alone. Others have been betrayed. Some have been staggered by a report that has just come back from a pathology lab. Some are simply high-tension human beings, strung tight as piano wire.

To all such folk, the psalmist speaks a word of comfort. It is one of the great themes of the Scriptures: God is our shelter. He will cover you with his pinions, and under his wings you will find refuge.

The image here is of a bird that senses the approach of a predator and instinctively spreads out its wings like a canopy. Then the fledglings scuttle underneath for shelter. The point is that God is our shelter when the winds begin to howl; under God’s providence we are defended, protected, perfectly safe—someone else is in charge—someone big, strong, and experienced. God spreads his wings over us. It’s a picture that offers sublime comfort.

Still, a disturbing question pricks us. How true is the picture of a sheltering God? How secure are we in the nest?

We hear about ISIS and Boko Haram, about terrorist attacks and massacres in Nigeria, Israel, Syria, Iraq, Paris, Cameroon. Psalm 91 says, “I shall not fear the grenade that flies by day.” Could a believer say this in Syria?

Or we learn that a loved one has received a terrible diagnosis. The doctors talk about treatments and research and making her as comfortable as possible. But all we can think is that she will not see her children graduate or get married, that her parents will bury a child.

Whatever happened to the wings of God? Can you get brain cancer under those wings? Get molested by a family member? Can you find, suddenly one day, that everything in your life seems to be cascading out of control?

Psalm 91 says no evil shall befall us. How can we understand this when it sometimes seems like God has forsaken us? When we have cashed out some of the poetry and then added in the witness of the rest of Scripture, what we get, I believe, is the conclusion that no final evil shall befall us. We know that we can believe God with all our heart and yet have our heart broken. Everyone in the church knows this. And yet, generation after generation of bruised saints have known something else and spoken of it. In the mystery of faith, we find a hand on us in the darkness, a voice that calls our name, and the sheer certainty that nothing can ever separate us from the love of God—not for this life and not for the life to come.

We are like fledglings who scuttle under the wings of their parent. The forces of evil beat on those wings with everything they have. When it is finished, when evil has done its worst, those wings are all bloodied and busted and hanging at wrong angles. And in all the commotion, we too get roughed up quite a lot.

But we are all right, because those wings have never folded. They are spread out to be wounded for our transgressions and bruised for our iniquities. And when the feathers quit flying, we peep out and discover that we have been in the only place that was not leveled. This is the one who protects us from final evil, now and in the life to come—the life in which, at last, it is safe for God to fold his wings.

He will cover you with his pinions, and under his wings you will find refuge. It’s not a simple truth, but it is the truth. And we ought to believe it with everything that is in us.

Prayer:

God, we seek refuge in you.

When we feel like we are not enough – not good enough or capable enough or confident enough or eloquent enough – remind us that your grace is sufficient, and that your power is made perfect in our weakness. And remind us that no matter how the world sees us, we are precious and honored and dearly beloved in your sight.

When we hear about great violence and sorrow in the world and in our communities and in our own lives, about broken relationships and disease and so many other things, stay near us. Remind us, when we are battered and bruised, that you speak even in the darkness.

Father, help us to trust. Thank you for giving yourself up for us; for loving us more than we can imagine; for spreading your wings to keep us safe through the storm. Thank you that you are in charge, and that under your care, we are protected. We love you. Amen.

Blessing:

God go before you to lead you, God go behind you to protect you, God go beneath you to support you, God go beside you to befriend you. Do not be afraid. May the blessing of God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit be upon you. Do not be afraid. Amen.

Opening sentences:

My soul waits for the Lord
more than those
who watch for the morning,
more than those
who watch for the morning.

Call: Out of the depths I have cried to You.
Response: O Lord, hear my voice.
Call: With my whole heart I want to praise You.
Response: O Lord, hear my voice.
Call: If you, Lord, should mark iniquities:
Response: Who could stand? who could stand?
I will wait for the Lord, my soul waits,
and in His word do I hope.

Words for reflection:
(From John Wesley’s Covenant Renewal Service)

Let us give thanks for all of God’s mercies.
O God, our Covenant Friend,
you have been gracious to us through all the years of our lives.
We thank you for your loving care,
which has filled our days and brought us to this time and place.
You have given us life and reason,
and set us in a world filled with your glory.
You have comforted us with family and friends,
and ministered to us through the hands of our sisters and brothers.
You have filled our hearts with a hunger after you,
and have given us your peace.
You have redeemed us, and called us to a high calling in Christ Jesus.
You have given us a place in the fellowship of your Spirit
and the witness of your Church.
You have been our light in darkness
and a rock of strength in adversity and temptation.
You have been the very Spirit of joy in our joys
and the all–sufficient reward in all our labors.
You remembered us when we forgot you.
You followed us even when we tried to flee from you.
You met us with forgiveness when we returned to you.
For all your patience and overflowing grace,
we praise your holy name, O God.
Now, hear this invitation:
Commit yourselves to Christ as his servants.
Give yourselves to him, that you may belong to him.
Christ has many services to be done.
Some are more easy and honorable,
others are more difficult and lowly.
Some are suitable to our inclinations and interests,
others are contrary to both.
In some we may please Christ and please ourselves.
But then there are other works where we cannot please Christ
except by denying ourselves.
It is necessary, therefore,
that we consider what it means to be a servant of Christ.
Let us, therefore, go to Christ, and pray:

Prayer:
(From John Wesley’s Covenant Renewal Service)

Let me be your servant, under your command.
I will no longer be my own.
I will give up myself to your will in all things.
Lord, make me what you will.
I put myself fully into your hands:
put me to doing, put me to suffering,
let me be employed for you, or laid aside for you,
let me be full, let me be empty,
let me have all things, let me have nothing.
I freely and with a willing heart
give it all to your pleasure and disposal.
I do here willingly put my neck under your yoke, to carry your burden.
All your laws are holy, just, and good.
I therefore take them as the rule for my words, thoughts, and actions,
promising that I will strive
to order my whole life according to your direction,
and not allow myself to neglect anything I know to be my duty.
And now, glory be to you, O God the Father,
whom I from this day forward shall look upon as my God and Father.
Glory be to you, O God the Son,
who have loved me and washed me from my sins in your own blood,
and now is my Savior and Redeemer.
Glory be to you, O God the Holy Spirit,
who by your almighty power have turned my heart from sin to God.
O mighty God, the Lord Omnipotent, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
you are my Covenant Friend.
And I, through your infinite grace, have become your covenant servant.
Let the covenant I have made on earth be ratified in heaven.
Amen.

Blessing:

God go before you to lead you, God go behind you to protect you, God go beneath you to support you, God go beside you to befriend you. Do not be afraid. May the blessing of God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit be upon you. Do not be afraid. Amen.

Opening sentences:

My soul waits for the Lord
more than those
who watch for the morning,
more than those
who watch for the morning.

Call: Out of the depths I have cried to You.

Response: O Lord, hear my voice.

Call: With my whole heart I want to praise You.

Response: O Lord, hear my voice.

Call: If you, Lord, should mark iniquities:

Response: Who could stand? who could stand?
I will wait for the Lord, my soul waits,
and in His word do I hope.

Familiar words and promises:

When the angel came to Mary to tell her of the child she would bear, he said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary.”

Do not be afraid.

It is the most often repeated exhortation in the Bible, the thing that God commands his people to do more than anything else: Do not be afraid.

Abraham and Sara, they’re old and they’re childless, and the word of the Lord comes to them: Do not be afraid.

The Israelites are pinned between Pharaoh’s army and the Red Sea, and God speaks through Moses: Do not be afraid.

Israel is about to enter the promised land: Do not be afraid.

And then they’re exiled from the promised land because they’re disobedient: Do not be afraid.

And in the New Testament…Angels appear to Zechariah, to Mary, to Joseph, to the shepherds and every time the message begins the same way: Do not be afraid.

Jesus sends his 12 disciples out to preach as “sheep among wolves.” His charge to them? Do not be afraid.

And when the ascended Jesus, in the book of Revelation, prophesies suffering and persecution for the church, his command to them…Do not afraid.

Why? The angel tells Mary quite succinctly:

“Because no word from God will ever fail.”

Prayer: [Let’s pray together, remembering that no word from God will ever fail. We’ll use the angel’s words as a refrain. When I pray, Do not be afraid, please respond with: Because no word from God will ever fail.]

God in this advent season, when so much around us feels weighty and dark, be our light. Save us from ourselves, our own worries and doubts, the cares that weigh us down, the things that frighten us. Help us to hear the angel’s words as for us.

Do not be afraid

Because no word from God will ever fail.

God when you came, you sent before you angels. Angels who said “Do not be afraid.” We pray that we would heed their call. Help us to not be afraid, afraid of the small things…a stressful upcoming week of back to back exams and presentations and papers and grading…or afraid of the big things, stories of violence, disease, war, and on and on that plague the news, our world, our communities, our friends, our own selves. May we not be afraid of the powers and principalities and people who wage war on our souls and minds. May the angel’s words be our words.

Do not be afraid

Because no word from God will ever fail.

Open our eyes to the immense love you have for us and the great lengths to which you went for us so that this Christmas, when we look in the manger we might actually see you there—a tiny child, God of the universe, Glory come down to meet us with all humility, grace, power and love, to save us, to keep us from all fear and free us from all darkness.

And in seeing you there, in remembering your love and your great humility, may our souls somehow be renewed, emboldened. May we remember the hope that we have, even now, in busy times, in sad times, in times of chaos and violence.

Because we long for hope and peace and strength and joy, we really do pray that the angel’s words would be words that sink deeply into hearts and our minds:

Do not be afraid

Because no word from God will ever fail.

Amen!

Blessing:

God go before you to lead you, God go behind you to protect you, God go beneath you to support you, God go beside you to befriend you. Do not be afraid. May the blessing of God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit be upon you. Do not be afraid.

Go in peace to love and serve the Lord. Amen.