Waiting & Serving through Uncertainty | Reflections by Fellow Matthew Schwartz '16

For me, this past year as a Fellow has been focused on the question of vocation, which, admittedly, is one of those buzzwords that is en vogue for fourth year Christians to consider. My time at UVa has been a continuous process of learning about myself, specifically my strengths and weaknesses. While you would think that self-discovery would help alleviate some of the angst caused by the ever-pressing stress of being unable to truly know yourself, I’ve found the opposite to be true. I’ve found that I’m someone who enjoys playing squash as much as I love grabbing lunch with friends. I’ve studied 17th century Spanish literature, 2nd century Rabbinic ethics and classical sociological theory. The knowledge I’ve gained in the classroom has been both extensive and myopic at the same time; I’ve learned a whole lot about very little. How am I supposed to take all of those interests and somehow form a career based around them? Is that even possible?

I’ve found a few puzzle pieces and will continue to discover more as life goes on until I can somehow piece them together to discover the real me, this person with whom I’ve been living. However, we all know that this is not what happens. There is no reason that I should expect all of these pieces to ever fit together. There is no 100% satisfaction guarantee. If you’ve met enough people, you will quickly see that most of them never feel satisfied with the puzzle pieces they have been given.

All of these concerns seem to bubble up as the question of vocation is addressed. Everything seems to conflict with the unfortunately popular mantra “Do what you love.” Am I the only one who is concerned that this credo implies that it is actually possible to know what you love, or that if you were to know what you love, there exists something that allows you to satisfy that desire?

My gut response to these worries is to take the talents that God has given me and bury them until I know how to best put them to use. But, having read the parable, I know that this isn’t an option. I must act.

So, for now I will continue to ask God how I can best serve God's kingdom. I cannot see the big picture or the Lord's long-term plan for me, but I will continue to love in my daily life. Milton in Sonnet 19 was right to say, “They also serve who only stand and wait.” For now, I will struggle to serve by simply waiting on God's plan to unfold, knowing that this can be the most testing form of obedience for a Type-A UVA graduate.

Welcome Fellows Class of 2016-17!

The Theological Horizons Fellows Programs support up to thirty students as they wrestle with concepts of Calling through Constraints and Commitments, reflecting Theological Horizons’ commitment to discover Christ at the intersection of faith, thought, and life.  Fellows are selected through a competitive application process and, except for the Perkins Fellows, must be Fourth Years who will soon transition from college.  Each Fellow is placed into one of two cohorts with a particular vocational focus.

We are thrilled to announce next year's incoming class of Fellows!

HORIZONS FELLOWS

Amanda O'Mara
Anna Cho
Becca Pryor
Cameron Fleming
Christina Fondren
Courtney Zerrener
Daniel Chen
Hannah Zachman
Hunter Sheldon
Julia Scoper
Maggie Rossberg
Margaret Merrick
Nathaneal Kim
Nathan Colberg

PERKINS FELLOWS

Becca Vang
Kevin Cao
Maddy Mallory
Megan Helbling
Phil Wood
SK Doyle

 

The daily call to love God and others | Reflections by Fellow Cat Hedrick '16

“How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing.” –Annie Dillard

As a 4th year at the University of Virginia, when asked, “what are you doing next year?,” I hear: “what are you going to do with your life?” But in the 4th year pursuit to formulate a vision for my job, my relationships, my next few years, my whole life—I have found that what I really need to focus on is what to do with the day in front of me, that is,what God desires for me to do with that day. I believe that God has called me every day to see the equal dignity of those around me, but when thinking about my career—through the UVa worldview of success—it has been hard to see equal value in every walk of life.

While contemplating the future in front of me, I have noticed that I ascribe to various definitions of success, not all of which can be reconciled with God’s daily call on my life. I realized that I need to “unlearn” many of the presumptions that UVa has impressed upon me. When I think about career, I find myself believing that I desire and even deserve specific jobs—where I’ll do important work that truly matters. UVa students tend to envision investment banks and consulting firms, teaching (if it’s through TFA), fancy non-profits, start-ups, or think-tanks as being “worthy.” Yet as Christians, we are also called to affirm the equal value and dignity of the lifetime spent working in the service industry. I have seen my own hypocrisy manifest in trying to be extra kind to the janitor while believing I am too good to possess his job.

A paradox emerges: how can I say that I appreciate another person’s dignity, that I see the value of another’s time, if I believe that the way she spends that time is in a job that is inherently beneath me? These past few months have pointed out the hypocrisies of my heart and challenged me to push back against many of the things that UVa, intentionally or unintentionally, has taught me about success and importance.  

Every job allows for people to serve God and serve others. Every job allows me to affirm God’s glory in others daily. If this is our daily calling and, in turn, the ultimate calling of vocation, there is comfort in knowing that though I may not know where I am going to be—I know that I can love God and love others where I am now.  When I reflect back on what I “did” with my life, I hope it will be spent loving God and loving others every day, with a continual understanding that my career is just a vessel for this daily vocation.  

“Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ.” (Philippians 3:8)

Building community alongside buildings | Perkins Fellow Julia Johnson '16

Looking back on this past year, it's hard to believe that graduation is coming near and many of the activities that have made up my time at UVa are now ending. Although the Perkins Fellowship wasn't a strenuous activity requiring copious amounts of time, the fellowship and volunteering at Habitat for Humanity did make my last year at UVa a little brighter and a lot more thought-provoking. Last night, I had potentially my last night volunteering with Community Conversations through Habitat for Humanity. The Community Conversations are a time when all of the residents to-be are put together in one room where they can meet, bond, share, and learn about each other and how to do life together. The kids get to play together and become friends before they become neighbors. Community Conversations have definitely been my favorite part of volunteering because I've gotten to meet Johnny, Thang, Sefi and many more kids. Partaking in these monthly meetings as well as volunteering on build sites has shown me a lot about how important people are in terms of building.

In school, relationships, neighborhoods, and a sense of place are not part of the curriculum when discussing civil engineering and the design of infrastructure. I can’t thank Habitat for Humanity and the Perkins Fellowship enough for opening my eyes to see not only that I want to pursue my career in civil engineering and construction in the technical sense, but that I want to focus on the people I am building for and how each person and the way they interact with others plays a part in the building of homes, schools, hospitals, etc. Getting to know the people whose home I would be working on later that week allowed me to take more ownership over the building and put more thought and effort into how to make it perfect for a family such as Johnny and Thang’s. This call to care about the wellness of the inhabitants and not only the construction of the building has changed the way I view my vocation going forward and has allowed me to view my career beginning in August in a more compassionate and less self-serving manner, one where I can make the residents and their needs more of a priority and encourage friendliness and neighborhoods among the owners. 

Confessions of a Hyprocrite | Fellow John Massie, '16

If I’ve realized anything, it’s one thing to ask the Lord into my life and recognize I’m saved through Jesus Christ’s sacrifice, but a completely different thing to mean it, embody it, and be transformed by it such that I genuinely live for Christ. Through Christ our sins are forgiven—we have peace with God, eternal assurance, purpose, and hope in a fallen world. In knowing Christ, I’ve hit the lottery, plain and simple. So why is it so easy for me to get wrapped up in materialistic, temporary, day-to-day things and become desensitized to the countless blessings I have in Christ? Why do I struggle to have His ultimate truth actually resonate with and transform me in a way that reflects the Lord’s love?

Undeservedly and unconditionally loved by the Lord, I yell and complain at a referee after a controversial call rather than extending him or her the same love. I stake my worth and fulfillment in my achievements and grades rather than the fact that I’m a loved, adopted child of the Lord. I put on a façade of respectfulness and genuine character for the glory of my own reputation rather than to reflect and glorify the Lord. Take a step back, breathe, who am I living for? So often I am sickened, embarrassed, frustrated by myself. What is wrong with me?

It is times like these that I am confronted by the true, unavoidable nature of my sinful existence. I’m squirming in frustration, self-resentment, and anger as I type. However, it is in these low moments of self-realization that I become that much closer to the Lord as I genuinely feel, all too rarely, blessed and energized to serve Him. How humbling and beautiful it is that the Lord uses the lowest of our lows and finds us in our darkest valleys to reveal His unconditional love.

Sometimes I wish the Lord would snap His fingers and fix me to love Him wholly and entirely, but that’s not how it works. Thank the Lord He doesn’t because He deserves nothing less! Such a solution would be a failure to genuinely pursue and love of the Lord. Sadly, my day will continue. This deep resonation with the Lord’s love will eventually be eclipsed by the many activities of my life as I once again fall prey to sinful thoughts, feelings, and actions. So here I humbly sit praying for the strength to be deeply humbled by my sinful nature for just a little bit longer than the last time. 

John Massie was a Horizons Fellow from 2015-16.

A Not-So-Passover Lamb: A Good Friday Lesson on Vocation | Fellow Charlie Smith '16

Holy Week offers Christians a lot to think about. Through fasting, prayer, and long Scripture readings Christians are called to consider such weighty topics such as sin, suffering, and self-sacrificial love. I was, therefore, surprised by a particular prayer I heard on Good Friday. My mind is usually overwhelmed that day with the contemplation of the mere fact God died. My mind’s struggle to reach that fact was abruptly interrupted when I heard my priest pray,

Almighty and everlasting God, by whose Spirit the whole body of the Church is governed and sanctified; Receive our supplications and prayers, which we offer before thee for all estates of men in thy holy Church, that every member of the same, in his vocation and ministry, may truly and godly serve thee; through our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen.

This is one of three prayers that is specially appointed for Good Friday. That means it is one of the few prayers we hear only on Good Friday. I hear it every year on this day. But for some reason its strangeness had not struck me until this time I heard it.

It was strange to me because I couldn’t quite figure out how this prayer fit with the events of Good Friday. Praying for our individual vocations and ministries seems great, but why do we find it appropriate to specifically pray for these things on the day of our Lord’s death? I continued to think about it throughout the rest of the day and I eventually realized there is no more appropriate day to pray such a prayer. Allow me to explain my reasoning using the 1993 film What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?.

What’s Eating Gilbert Grape? is a sort of twist on the parable of the Prodigal Son. It examines what would happen if the faithful son became restless and wanted to leave his home. It tells the story of Gilbert Grape, a young man who must remain at home in his dead end town to take care of his family. He has a morbidly obese and depressed mother who refuses to leave the house, a mentally disabled little brother who is always getting into trouble, and two sisters who as hard as they try are unable to take care of the troubled family. He also has an older brother who ran away years ago to live his own life and whom we never meet. Gilbert not only financially supports the family with a job at a failing family grocer, but also has to look after his mentally handicapped brother all day and be home in order to take care of his mother every night. There is a lot in the movie to talk about (such as the symbolic uses of water, fire, and food) but I will focus on one aspect I thought was relevant to my vocation/Good Friday thoughts. And that is the tension one feels between staying put and moving on.

At the beginning of the movie, we see Gilbert and his little brother, Arnie, watching a caravan of campers drive through town on their way to a more exciting destination. This is an annual ritual the brothers have taken part in for years. Gilbert tells us how he feels about the travelers he witnesses every year:

Watching the campers is our yearly ritual. They’re doing the right thing just passing through.

Gilbert feels trapped in his home town. This place means nothing but loss and suffering to him. But he stays because he feels obliged to take care of his family. Gilbert wishes he could hop in one of those cars, drive away, and never come back. However, we meet one girl who doesn’t just pass through. Her name is Becky and she and her grandmother get stuck in the town when their car breaks down. They must remain there until they can fix it.

Gilbert falls in love with Becky, and his feelings for her makes him question his dedication to his family, and causes him to think about what his life would be like if he just left for a new place. At one point Gilbert gets so fed up he does drive out of town abandoning his little brother and his fragile mother. But he can’t leave Becky the girl he has fallen in love with. So he goes to find her. When he does, he sees her taking care of his little brother who has also run away from home. At that point he goes back home falls at his mother’s feet and promises never to disappear again.

Gilbert realizes that his love for his hurting family requires suffering on his part. He must suffer the loss of the dreams he has to move on. He might even have to suffer the loss of the girl he loves. But his calling is to love the people who need him most. And that requires him to stay put.

What does any of this have to do with Jesus’ death on the cross? Well Jesus too was called to suffer pain and loss for the love of those who needed him most. But the most striking parallel I saw was in the prayer Jesus prayed the night before his crucifixion. St. John gives us the remarkable prayer in chapter seventeen of his Gospel. While Christ is in agony in the garden, Jesus faithfully resolves to do his Father’s will and consecrates himself as the perfect sacrifice. Like the prayer I heard on Good Friday, I was surprised by some of the things Jesus asked for the night before he died. He prays,

And now I come to thee; and these things I speak in the world, that they might have my joy fulfilled in themselves…I pray not that thou shouldest take them out of the world, but that thou shouldest keep them from the evil. They are not of the world, even as I am not of the world…As thou hast sent me into the world, even so have I also sent them into the world. (St. John 17:13, 15-16, 18)

Jesus’ work on earth is coming to an end. He must move on to the Father. But his disciples still have work to do. And that work requires them to stay put. It requires them to remain in a place where they are hated (St. John 17:14). Jesus has suffered in the world for the love of his own. Now his followers are called to suffer for love as well.

What’s Eating Gilbert Grape? showed me there is quite a difference between moving on and passing through. Jesus moved on to the Father when his work was completed. But he was not just passing through on earth. He loved and suffered and sacrificed while he was here because he loved those who were sick, suffering, and dying. In the movie, Becky also moves on from the town once her car is fixed, but she was never just passing through. She loved and took care of Gilbert and his family in the little ways she was able to while she was there. And in doing so she in many ways saved Gilbert’s life. And she taught him that he must never see any place or any person as something just to pass by.  

Sometimes Christians are called to stay put. Sometimes we are called to move on. But Christians are never called to pass by. Every place we find ourselves and every person we meet requires our love, our care, and often our sacrifice. I am thinking about this a lot as I prepare to graduate. I have spent four years at the University of Virginia. It is about that time to move on. But if I were to talk to any first years, I would tell them that while that day to move on will undoubtedly come, they must never just pass through their time here. They have a calling now to love as Christ loved when he was on earth. And as I go to a new place I will carry that same lesson. Even though St. Peter tells us that Christians are “strangers” and “pilgrims” (1 Peter 2:11), we must never think that we are passerby. We are to love, work, and suffer here until we enter our home that Christ prepares for us.

So on the day we commemorate Jesus leaving this world, we remember that we are still in it. And, therefore, the Church teaches us to pray that we may faithfully serve our Lord in whatever way he calls us. Christ died when the Jewish people were celebrating the feast of the Passover. This was the day in which God “passed over the houses of the children of Israel in Egypt” (Exodus 12:27). The great irony of our Lord dying on this day, is that God again delivers his people, this time from a much stronger oppressor. But Christ does anything but “pass over” us. He comes to us. He enters our world. He enters our flesh. He enters our death. He does all this so that we can enter God’s life. Christ wasn’t a passerby. I shouldn’t be one either.

Giving Thanks in the Harvest Season | Fellow Kat Gray '16

As an underclassman, I idyllically pictured spring semester 4th year as being the pinnacle of my time at UVA. The magnolia by the Rotunda would be blooming, classes would be held outside, and our friends would spend all of our time together doing fun activities because, who does school work as a 4th year? While this semester has not been exactly how I pictured, it has been an incredible time that has shown me God’s faithfulness over the last four years as many things come to fruition. We are about to receive the degrees we have spent years laboring over, we have job offers and graduate school acceptances, and the upcoming year is filled with many more exciting prospects. It has been a privilege to genuinely and fully celebrate these gifts with my friends!  We are reminded that God is “steadfast in love and faithfulness” (Psalm 86:15) as all of the working parts of our earlier life miraculously fit together to propel us into the real world post-college.

As much as I hate to admit it, in the midst of celebration, I can’t help but feel a little bit of self doubt in my heart. When I heard that I was accepted into the graduate program I wanted, it was so easy to offer thanks to God and feel excited about that next stage of life! But now, as friends accept jobs in all corners of the world and receive offers from fantastic graduate programs, my prospects for the coming year seem much less exciting. How do I quiet this voice in my head telling me to compare? Not only am I diminishing the many blessings God has poured into my life, but I am letting fear rule me when I should really be living into the truth that God has set me free from fear. I fear that I am not good enough to live up to my friends’ accomplishments. I fear that I will not be content with my future. I fear that I am not living up to my full potential—but none of this is true!

So how do I truly give thanks when I have these jealous thoughts filling my head? I am lucky enough to have housemates who intentionally gather together every other week to talk through these things, and I have a wonderful core group where I am reminded of how to live into God’s truth. I have caring organizations on and off Grounds that seek to remind me of where I find my value. Even when I have these thoughts poking through in my head, God does not allow me to be swallowed up in the lies that I am not good enough. He equips me and reminds me of his plan for me and allows for me to celebrate during this happy life transition. So, as I live out the last five weeks I have here at Mr. Jefferson’s University, I continue to give thanks to God for all that he continues to give me and for the beautiful things he has planned for my future.

The Justice Calling Book Launch with Audio

We had a wonderful gathering of folks from the community and University gather to listen to authors, Bethany Hanke Hoang and Kristen Deede Johnson share about their new book, The Justice Calling: Where Passion Meets Perseverance. Moderated by UVa Law Professor Barbara Armacost and responded to by a panel of community leaders from The Haven, The Arbor, Abundant Life Ministries, IMPACT Charlottesville and Casa Alma, we enjoyed a thoughtful and honest discussion about the call to justice that rests on the sustaining practices of Sabbath, Eucharist, gratitude, lament and community.

Listen to the talk here.

Photos here

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The Justice Calling draws us into the whole story of Scripture, inviting us to know more intimately the God who loves justice and calls us to give our lives to seek the flourishing of others.  (Brazos Press, 2016).

Bethany Hanke Hoang (MDiv, Princeton Theological Seminary) engages leaders around the world with the critical connection between justice and spiritual formation; she advises and speaks on behalf of the Institute for Biblical Justice for International Justice Mission.  

Kristen Deede Johnson (PhD, University of St. Andrews) is associate professor of theology and Christian formation at Western Theological Seminary in Holland, Michigan. She teaches and writes in the areas of theology, culture, formation, and political theory. She is a graduate of UVa.

Moderator

Barbara Armacost (BS, UVa; MTS, Regent College, University of British Columbia; JD, UVa) is a Professor of Law at the University of Virginia School of Law.  The focus of her academic work is constitutional criminal procedure and regulation of police misconduct.  Professor Armacost teaches in the areas of criminal procedure, religious freedom, torts, legislation, and civil rights. 

Community Panelists

The Arbor // Seth Wispelwey: Seth Wispelwey is Executive Director for The Arbor Charlottesville.  The Arbor provides safe housing, case management services, and restorative programming for adult female survivors of human trafficking here in Central Virginia. He has over a decade of experience mobilizing people of faith and conscience to engage and advocate for various social justice issues, previously working for International Justice Mission, ONE, Bread for the World, Fair Trade Boston, et al.  He holds a Master’s in Pastoral Ministry from Boston College and is an alumnus of Dear Old UVA.

Abundant Life Ministries // Rydell Payne: Rydell Payne has been the Executive Director since September 1999 when he brought new ideas and energy to Abundant Life. Rydell and his wife Hope have three boys and are members of Christ Community Church. Prior to CALM, Rydell served at-risk youth for 12 years with the City of Charlottesville’s Community Attention Therapeutic Foster Care Program. A native of Fluvanna County, he holds a Bachelor of Business Administration degree from James Madison University.

Casa Alma // Laura Brown (MSW): Laura and her husband, Steve, are co-founders and resident volunteers at Casa Alma, Charlottesville's Catholic Worker community. Casa Alma provides hospitality to low-income families in need, sponsors times of prayer, cultivates simple living on an urban farm, and engages in work for justice. Laura is a member of the Church of the Incarnation and a student in the Living School for Action and Contemplation.

The Haven // Stephen Hitchcock: Stephen Hitchcock is the executive director and chaplain of The Haven, a low-barrier day shelter and housing resource center for those experiencing homelessness and extreme poverty in Central Virginia. He is ordained in the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.).

IMPACT Charlottesville // Joshua Scott: Josh Scott is the Lead Organizer for IMPACT which empowers faith communities of greater Charlottesville to systemically address community problems by building justice ministries. Josh is a 2012 Government graduate of UVA and is a Board Member for the Charlottesville Vineyard Christian Church where he also is a co-leader of their worship band.

This event was brought to you by the Virginia Festival of the Book, Theological Horizons, the Project on Lived Theology and New City Commons.

Between my rock and a hard place | Reflections by Fellow Elena Alba '16

Brace yourselves, avid 'Hoos fans, this will be an honest read. I make no promises that you will leave these few paragraphs encouraged or with new insights. My hope is instead to convey some sense of frankness about an unconventional U.Va. experience. For me, "Go 'Hoos," spoken at seemingly random and near constant intervals by my peers, was not a rallying cry to fandom but a constant reminder of the school spirit I did not have, the lack of fulfillment I felt attending the same school others often worshiped.

After experiencing the classic first year of being doted upon and courted by organizations, churches and professors alike, I walked into my second year On-grounds dorm building (not recommended) with unreasonable expectations. Second year deals a near universal blow to the average U.Va. student's psyche, primed by the previous year to expect novel experiences and constant attention. I soon found the school I thought I loved to be a place where I felt isolated, out of place and academically unchallenged. My friends were wonderful, the new boyfriend absolutely a joy to have in my life, yet I was convinced I didn't belong in this place.

The pained feeling of discontentment did not budge over the next few months and years as I was promised it would. God placed me in this community despite a consistent lack of desire to be here. But as many of us have come to know, God's faithfulness often takes strange forms. I have (at times agonizingly) learned to adapt, finding ways to be present and purposeful, loving and humble, while in these places of discontent.

God made me grow up, sneaky fellow, without my ever having agreed to it. I've learned to care not at all what anyone thinks, to serve the people in this community with love when I'd rather be elsewhere, to listen deeply and withhold judgment when it would be far easier not to. My years at U.Va. have often been difficult, desperately lonely and monotonous, but I have been gifted spaces like the Bonhoeffer House to get in the ring with my doubts and rage, duking it out with fury until I'm spent and only grace can set me back on my feet.

By God's mysterious mercies, I'm now infinitely more confident in my ability to live well and love better in places I'd rather not be as much as in those I love. Suffering has honed my integrity, humility and will to persist in life and in truth. The product of four years spent struggling is a surprising gratitude for the God who forces us into hard places, who strikes at our egos till our ears ring with songs of praise.

Justice, Beauty, and Habits of Waiting | Christen Borgman Yates

This article originally appeared in the Spring issue (The Rule of Law, The Way of Love. March, 2016) of Comment Magazine, a publication of CARDUS: www.cardus.ca

"Can waiting itself be an act?"

This provocative question, posed by Bethany Hanke Hoang and Kristen Deede Johnson in their new book, The Justice Calling: Where Passion Meets Perseverance (Brazos Press, 2016), should give us pause. It might seem strange to pair the term "waiting" with "justice." By its very nature, justice demands a complete putting to rights. It seems to be a very active idea, and social justice movements inside and outside the church have shown us again and again how much there is to do. We need to stay busy, busy, busy.

Waiting, however, generally brings to mind utter motionlessness— stopped in mind-numbing traffic, sitting in the dentist office's pleather chair, or, more currently, searching for something— anything—on our phones. While waiting as an act might seem like an existential paradox, I think we need to hold these ideas together and see where they lead.

What would it look like if those of us who care passionately about justice work had a biblical narrative of active and hopeful waiting to sustain us? And, for those of us who haven't quite jumped on the social justice bandwagon, what if we had a fresh view of Scripture to help us see that, as former Comment Editor Gideon Strauss has said, "justice is not optional"?

That is what Hoang and Johnson offer us in their book. "Our intent is that this book would provide a Genesis to Revelation biblical theology of justice," they explain, "above all by drawing you nearer to our God who loves justice and is himself the embodiment of justice."

Taking us carefully through six movements found in the Bible—creation, the fall, Israel, Jesus, the church, and all things being made new—Hoang and Johnson show how the call to justice is rooted in a God whose mysterious essence contains the holiness, hesed (faithful and active loving-kindness), justice, righteousness, and shalom (flourishing wholeness) that Christians are asked to emulate.

What I appreciate about this book is their expansive unpacking of the daily habits that shape us in light of the biblical story. Many of us these days have formed a conscience around where we shop, how we invest our money, how we care for the earth, or what neighbourhood we choose to live in. But we don't always integrate these considerations with spiritual disciplines like Sabbath-keeping, the Eucharist, gratitude, and lament found in the Bible. Or, if we practice these spiritual disciplines, some of us haven't seen them connected to the contemporary work of social justice. Hoang and Johnson help us see how the holistic call to justice makes sense as we reject the material/ spiritual dualism that continues to creep into the church today. Quoting James K.A. Smith, Hoang and Johnson point out, "The things we undertake in the rest of our lives need to be 'tethered to and nourished by the practices of Christian worship.'"

Moreover, all of these habits—Sabbath-keeping, the Eucharist, gratitude, lament— have waiting woven into their DNA. Perhaps this is part of the answer to their question, "Can waiting itself be an act?"

The Beauty Of Shalom

There is something in beauty, something in the work of art in the world, that connects with waiting. It seems frivolous in the face of injustice, a "royal waste of time" as Marva Dawn puts it in her book A Royal "Waste" of Time: The Splendor of Worshiping God and Being Church for the World. There was a time when I considered my own love for drawing and painting in this suspicious way. Experiencing the injustices of race and poverty in inner-city Boston and Kenya during my early years, I cultivated a passion for social justice work while pushing aside art-making. What could art do to help put things to right?

But then, I began attending a graduate school that helped me expand my limited vision, and I allowed myself to return to art and beauty. There I cultivated the Christian imagination alongside building Christian communities, painting the landscape alongside urban anthropology and missions. And just as Hoang and Johnson help us connect the dots between thoughtful action and hopeful waiting, I was introduced to others who were connecting the seemingly disparate worlds of justice and beauty.

In his poetically written treatise Until Justice and Peace Embrace, philosopher Nicholas Wolterstorff explains to us that beauty is not optional in working out shalom. "Beauty is a moral right," he claims, and "no one should live in aesthetic squalor . . . that would be an injustice." He continues: "A community of shalom, for one thing, is a responsible community: where shalom exists, there we enact our responsibilities to one another, to God, and to nature. But shalom is more than that. It is fully present only where there is delight and joy in those relationships." Delight, you might say, is active participation in beauty.

Dorothy Day, the untiring and inspiring social justice worker, is a beautiful example of this delight. Day's biographer Robert Ellsberg captures this in an introduction to By Little and By Little, her selected writings.

She knew what needed to be taken seriously. But she was never too serious to forget what Ruskin called "the duty of delight." In the face of desperate suffering in the world, she felt we had a special obligation to attend to life's joys and beauties. "We would be contributing to the misery of the world if we failed to rejoice in the sun, the moon, and the stars, in the rivers which surround this island on which we live, in the cool breezes of the bay." Frequently, in her column, she cited Dostoevsky's words: "The world will be saved by beauty."

Ellsberg goes on to recount a story of Day giving a diamond ring that had been donated to the Catholic Worker to a poor, lonely old woman. When someone argued that the ring could have paid for her rent for a year, she responded that the woman had her dignity and could use it for rent or for a trip to the Bahamas! "Do you suppose God created diamonds only for the rich?"

Learning To Wait

And so, ever since I took up my pencils and paintbrushes during graduate school, I have been giving myself over to this extravagant habit, one that has the unusual result of creating a daily contemplative space for some of those habits of waiting Hoang and Johnson mention—lament, gratitude, worship, Sabbath-keeping—alongside cultivating an imagination to picture what justice might look like here and now. I've found that this "duty of delight" is more than just an obligation: it's vital. Without beauty, and the imagination that helps us access it, we would not only burn out in our work for justice, we might well lose the vision for what it is we're working towards.

This experience isn't limited to my solitary studio practice. In our own city of Charlottesville, Virginia, I'm seeing this duty of delight happening right now in an exciting new partnership between New City Arts and the Haven, a day shelter for those struggling with homelessness. Through a large grant, these organizations have just hired a creative coordinator, who is working with recently housed people as they set out to design and decorate the space of their homes—to accompany and support them as they consider what furniture to buy, what artwork to hang on the walls, how to furnish a sense of place all their own. While more pragmatic minds might see this as frivolous, a waste of time and money, those who are spearheading this effort see that redignifying individuals is perhaps one of the first ways to help them flourish and become more fully human. Contemporary artist Makoto Fujimura speaks to the "rehumanizing" power of the arts; I would consider this a perfect example.

And there are many more examples I've been privileged to learn from: Buildabridge out of Philadelphia, JustPotters in Vancouver, British Columbia, RawArts in Lynn, Massachusetts, Christians in the Visual Arts, International Arts Movement, Art House America, International Justice Mission's Art Music Justice tour, ArtPlace, Artspace, not to mention the proliferation of undergraduate art and MFA programs incorporating community engagement. People are starting to see that the generous gift of beauty coming from the ashes (Isa. 61:3), as Hoang and Johnson mention through their stories of redemption, is always available.

Hoang and Johnson have given us a gift in The Justice Calling. In a world with so many distracting voices, they've helped clarify the biblical account of God's desire for this world to be set to rights, and have invited us to practice renewal in a thousand small, daily ways. Perhaps our biggest failure is not our lack of effort to engage this practice, but our lack of imagination. What were the prophets and people like Martin Luther King Jr. doing when they invoked their visions and dreams for a better world? They were tapping into the beautiful, using the engines of their imaginations to move beyond the strictly rational and seemingly practical.

The beautiful call to justice is waiting for us to answer. And within that response we wait: actively with hope and imaginatively with patient anticipation for the new heavens and the new earth.

Christen Borgman Yates is an artist and associate director of Theological Horizons. During graduate school, she studied theology, art and community development at Regent College and Simon Fraser University, both in Vancouver, British Columbia. She lives and works in Charlottesville, Virginia, with her husband and four children.

Excerpt from The Justice Calling | Bethany Hoang & Kristen Johnson

Excerpt from The Justice Calling: Where Passion Meets Perseverance

Bethany Hanke Hoang and Kristen Deede Johnson

Each time my (Kristen’s) family sits to eat dinner together at the table, we light a candle, and the kids join us in saying: “Christ is the light of the world. In him there is no darkness at all. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it at all!” We hope that our children will never forget that the light of Christ can never, ever be overcome. We pray that our children will not hover in the safe, comfortable, seemingly light places of the world but rather will choose to offer their lives and gifts, allowing God to send them into the dark places of the world with the inextinguishable light of Christ.

But we also pray that they know they will not enter those dark places alone. God sends his church to respond to injustice together as the body of Christ united in our own communities and across the globe. As we respond together, we do so out of the grace given to us in Jesus through the Holy Spirit, not from our own abilities. We rely on the powerful light of Christ that shines in each dark place. As one of my (Kristen’s) students has said, there are no God-forsaken places, only church-forsaken places. God asks his people to take up their crosses and follow him into these places, as it may be through them that God works to set things right.

In our own pursuit of the justice calling, both of us have been encouraged by the sanctification we see happening in churches all over the world.  We relish the many different forms that the work of justice takes as more churches understand that their mission inextricably weaves together proclamation of the gospel and social engagement.

The deep biblical connection between evangelism and justice has been a key component of the witness and teachings of John Perkins. After experiencing a conversion to the gospel in his late twenties in California, he became deeply committed to sharing the gospel through evangelism. He then sensed a call from God to return with his family to his home state of Mississippi to bring the good news to the black community he had left. As he entered further into ministry there, he became increasingly convinced of the significance of holistic mission that attends to spiritual and material needs.

As we are sent by Jesus to love God and love others, our mission must involve both evangelism and justice. Wherever we are, whatever we are doing, whatever responsibilities have been entrusted to us, we are called to live as God’s holy people, seeking God’s justice, righteousness, and shalom.  God’s vision for justice and righteousness is meant to shape each of our callings and commitments and all of our practices within those callings and commitments. In this way, we can better understand every one of our callings as a kingdom calling, as Amy Sherman so helpfully puts it.

Come meet the authors in a book launch with a panel of community leaders on Thursday, March 17th at 7pm at University Baptist Church! Part of the Virginia Festival of the Book, in partnership with the Project on Lived Theology and New City Commons.

Spring Events with Theological Horizons

Further Up, Further In: 
My Journey Beyond Fear

A talk for women by  Rev. Saranell Hartman

Thursday, Feb 18 |  4:30pm at the Bonhoeffer House 

Followed by Evening Prayer |  5:30pm

In the place where we find ourselves God is inviting us to live in the kingdom of God. Right now, not some far off distant reality. Rev. Saranell Hartman reflects on finding her place in the story of God through Scripture, the Spirit and community. She'll speak at Vintage on Feb. 19, too.

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Rev. Saranell Hartman

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Curt Viebranz

Darden Faith & Work Dialogue Lunch
with Curt Viebranz

Thursday, Feb 25 |  1:30-2:30pm 

at the UVa School of Business

Curt Viebranz is former president of HBO and now president and CEO of George Washington's Mount Vernon.  Get an inside look at his life at the heartof the business world.

All are welcome.  Lunch is complimentary.

"Visit" Mt. Vernon with Curt!

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Bruce Herman

"Ordinary Saints" art opening & artist talk with Bruce Herman

Monday, Feb. 29 | 4:30-6:30pm with artist talk at 5:30pm
at First Presbyterian Church, Charlottesville

Bruce Herman is a renowned painter and educator. His art is featured in the Vatican Museum of Modern Religious Art in Rome, the Cincinnati Museum of Fine Arts, the Armand Hammer Museum, UCLA, and in collections worldwide.

 See Bruce's art.

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The Justice Calling

The Justice Calling : Book Launch & Discussion with Bethany Hoang & Kristen Johnson

Thursday, March 17 | 7pm
at University Baptist Church, Charlottesville

As part of the Virginia Festival of the Book, and in partnership with the Project on Lived Theology and New City Commons, the authors will present their new book, The Justice Calling: Where Passion Meets Perseverance. With moderator Barb Armacost, UVa Law School & community panelists Laura Brown (Casa Alma), Stephen Hitchcock (The Haven), , Rydell Payne (Abundant Life Ministries), Joshua Scott (Impact) and Seth Wispelwey (The Arbor).

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DARDEN FAITH & WORK DIALOGUE
with Dale E. Jones
Thursday, March 31 | 1:30-2:30pm
at the UVa School of Business

Dale E. Jones is president of Diversified Search. He is a sought-after advisor on leadership issues for Fortune 500 companies.Come  hear the story of his story of faith and work.  All are welcome.  Lunch is complimentary.

Want to know more about Dale?

Save the date! Final Darden Faith & Work Dialogue
Thursday, April 28  | 1:30-2:30pm

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And every week...open to all

Vintage Lunch at the Bonhoeffer House + rich conversation from the Christian classics | Fridays 1-2pm

Ground Up Guys' Discussion Coffee, Bagels & the Bible. Tuesdays 8:15- 9:15am | UVa Pavilion VIII  

Evening Prayer on the Lawn End your day right.  Tuesdays & Thursdays 5:30-5:50pm | 28 East Lawn.

Community Bible Study So good. Thursdays 9-10am | Common  Grounds, Rugby & Gordon Ave

Goodwin Prize Honorable Mention Author Profile David Berka

2015 GOODWIN PRIZE FOR EXCELLENCE IN THEOLOGICAL WRITING

AUTHOR PROFILE

Your name: David D. Berka

The title of your paper: “Home of the Dispossessed: Augustine, Wittgenstein, and Truth Telling as Confessional Grammar”

What inspired you to pursue an advanced degree in theology?

I was inspired to pursue advanced study in theology when I realized that many of my philosophical questions were actually theological questions. As an undergraduate philosophy student, I became curious about what understandings of truth and falsity were at work in various philosophical claims and systems. I did extended research and writing on Nietzsche and his conception of truth. It was only after I finished my undergraduate degree that I really discovered theology as a discipline, finding a wealth of contemporary theological work on truth and language (D. Stephen Long’s Speaking of God: Theology, Language, and Truth was especially helpful). This work introduced me to many theologians who have also wrestled with questions about truth similar to those I’d asked while studying Nietzsche and others. I then had the resources to ask questions I’d asked but didn’t know how to begin answering, like: In what sense can certain theological or biblical claims be called “true”? Upon whom or what do these claims depend? Is there a difference between public and private knowledge? How does something like power influence human knowing or Christian claims to truth? What difference does it make that Jesus calls himself “truth”? Questions like these continue to animate my theological thinking. I’m inspired to continue this kind of work by my conviction that thinking through such questions can be a form of faithful Christian witness, even worship. I’m inspired by those theologians whose work makes Creation a more interesting and, Deo volente, a more beautiful place.

What do you hope to do with your degree?

Like many of my classmates, I hope to teach, preferably at the university level. I have deep gratitude for the teachers in my life who have taught me that asking questions and seeking greater understanding of God is a good thing. I’m grateful for those who’ve shown me that transformed understanding and transformed living are not mutually exclusive but, in many ways, one and the same. I would like to be the same sort of teacher for others.

 I also am constantly looking for ways to connect the theology and philosophy I study to the life of the church and communities that I inhabit. There is merit enough in theological reflection and contemplation for its own sake, but I’m driven by questions about how what I learn is connected to how others and I share life together. So I ask, what form does my life already have, and what sorts of theological assumptions contribute to this form, for better or worse? What needs to change about how I live, and what change in theological thinking would this require? Or, conversely, based on how I think theologically, what sort of life does this imply that I should live? What kind of community would such a life require? At present, for instance, these questions have led me to take up community organizing efforts in congregational settings. In such settings I have to think about what kinds of common life I and my fellow congregants want to work toward, both with others in our church community and in our wider communities: neighborhood, city, state, &c. How do we take other people’s differences seriously and hospitably without comprising what makes us, as Christians, different from others? What does Christian hospitality in a liberal democratic political environment look like? How do Christians and church communities work for healing with those whom they have harmed, or been harmed by? These are the kinds of questions that my theological education presently helps me both to ask and to explore.

Where do you see connections between your personal faith, your intellectual work and the other aspects of your life?

My general approach to life is to consider all of how I live, insofar as I’m able, as a response to God’s gift of love given in the person of Jesus. In this sense, I try to imagine whether the things I do or don’t do could be called a faithful response to that gift. For whatever reason, I have the interests and loves that I do—in theology, in philosophy, with writing, people, music, or anything else. And so I try and use and enjoy these loves and interests and talents as ways to be thankful for and reflective of God’s gift of love. I’m grateful that my intellectual and academic work can help me reflect on and embody what it means to be faithful to God’s gifts and love. My hope is that my work somehow helps others to do that, too.

How would you summarize your paper for someone without a theological background? 

I would summarize my paper as follows: St. Augustine, a theologian, and Ludwig Wittgenstein, a philosopher, think similarly about truth, and about what it means to tell the truth. They imagine that telling the truth is like making a confession. Confession is something that we learn how to do only in the presence of other people. Since they understand confession and truth telling as similar or even identical activities, they understand truth itself as something basically personal. That is, we can’t know what truth is, or what kinds of things are true, apart from the presence of and relationships with other people. So I take these insights from Wittgenstein and Augustine to explore what it could mean that Jesus claims to be the truth. Jesus doesn’t claim that some set of propositions about him is true, but instead that his very person is truth itself. I then try to show that confession, as Wittgenstein and Augustine understand it, is a practice that helps us see that telling the truth is about giving and receiving something basically personal, rather than claiming, knowing, or reporting something factual. In this way, I imagine that telling the truth is a radically contingent activity—we depend entirely upon others to learn how to do it well. Most importantly, we depend on Christ’s gift of himself as truth to us.

How might this award make a difference in your life?

It’s made a difference in two very practical but distinct ways. First, it’s made a difference as a form of encouragement of theological exploration and contemplation. At the end of much study and writing, students like me can often feel overwhelmed, even defeated, and perhaps left wondering whether or not studying theology is worth our time. The work of Theological Horizons and opportunities like the Goodwin Prize allow us the chance to present and publicly share our research, thought, and work, with the hope that it will be helpful and beneficial to those who engage with it. It’s encouraging to receive an award like this from Theological Horizons, whose work focuses intently on how the work of theology makes a difference for how Christians live, move, and have their being in the world.

Second, it’s made a difference as an aid to my doctoral applications. I hope to continue on to doctoral work next fall in theology and ethics, and the Goodwin Prize will certainly help me with the costs of the application process!

What would you say to prospective donors might fund the Goodwin Writing Prize?

Please do! Theological Horizons and the Goodwin Prize do a great service to the continuation of theological reflection, study, and conversation by creating space for these things to happen. The essay competition is a good way for students like me to get a sense of what sort of work my peers are doing, and how they’re doing it. For me, this helps develop a broader frame of reference and interest for my own theological work. I’m convinced that the most beneficial and credible theology springs from conversation and interaction with many different friends, teachers, peers, and interlocutors—even enemies. I think that Theological Horizons and the Goodwin Prize encourage this kind of theological work.

How do you spend your time when you are not studying?

When I’m not studying, I love to spend my time most with family, friends, and my dogs; by being outdoors; or reading and writing for leisure. I love learning about art, especially iconography, film, and music—particularly jazz, blues, and folk (Tom Waits is a favorite). I also play drums and percussion in a folk band. Taking “Sabbath time” is important to me, which I usually do by rehearsing with the band, going to Mass, or having quiet nights in to watch movies or read. As a Wisconsin native, I also love watching the Brewers and the Packers.

For more information on the Goodwin Prize, please click here. 

Goodwin Prize Honorable Mention Author Profile with Lisa Hickman

2015 GOODWIN PRIZE FOR EXCELLENCE IN THEOLOGICAL WRITING

AUTHOR PROFILE

Your name:  Lisa Nichols Hickman

The title of your paper:   Before Our Bodies Glittered: Beyond Ontological Difference in Disability and Theology

What inspired you to pursue an advanced degree in theology? What do you hope to do with your degree?

As a Presbyterian pastor, someone who cares deeply about spiritual formation, I am interested in “everyday theology.”  By everyday theology, I simply mean the intersection between the sacred and secular currents of our ordinary, everyday life.  When I first considered possible Ph.D. work, I envisioned studying Practical Theology or the New Testament.  Then, when I learned about the program at Duquesne University in Theology I realized how much sense pursuing this course of study made in the context of my life.  Ever since I was a kid, making tents out of sheets and staying up late to talk with friends, I’ve been asking theological questions. I’m thrilled to devote this season of my life to full time theological study and I would love when finished to be able to teach in a Seminary or a college where spiritual formation is valued as part of the curriculum.

Where do you see connections between your personal faith, your intellectual work and the other aspects of your life?

There are many connections!  Given the topic of this essay regarding disability and theology, an important connection was the initial “life crisis” of learning we would have a daughter with Down Syndrome.  During that time of initial grief, I read “Put to the Test” by theologian and ethicist Amy Laura Hall in The Christian Century.  Surprisingly, this book review of hers reframed my journey theologically to consider “hospitality” in the face of a life crisis.  Her words were a clarion call in that hard season.  Good theology can do just that – transform lives, transform institutions, transform the most challenging of situations.  Now, Caitlyn May is eleven years old.  She is a cheerleader, a great sister, a good friend, and a place of real grace in our household. 

How would you summarize your paper for someone without a theological background? 

Jean-Luc Marion prompts us to consider God “without being” and in so doing offers new access for disability studies.  Such a challenge sets “ontological difference” aside and begins with the revelation of love as the foremost encounter with the divine. Our interaction with this charitable love sets aside the bedazzlement of the bodily idol and provides accessibility through an encounter with the icon of revelation.  Such an encounter is not a Gnostic rejection of the body, but instead an invitation beyond the glittery norms of perfect embodiment toward a revelatory love that summons our gaze to a new depth. That revelation prompts greater access in the institutions, streets and byways of our culture that now, guided by the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1995, must provide ‘access.’  However, Marion’s insight points to encounter which is perhaps even more needed than access. This paper points to a model of public access beyond functionality; instead, one that creates space for encounter with each other as human beings.

How might this award make a difference in your life?

Of course I am honored to be able to list this on a C.V. and resume.  But even more so, for now, this award makes “real” the work that I do to my older daughter Leah.  While studying theology may sound abstract some day, this award makes real the hard work and heart of theology to a thirteen year old.  We will use a portion of the award to celebrate time together as a family and for that we are all grateful.

What would you say to prospective donors might fund the Goodwin Writing Prize?

To the prospective donors, I would share the above story of how good theological writing mattered to my family and me during a critical point in our lives.  I will forever be appreciative to Amy Laura Hall for her theological reframing of a crisis point.  And, I am grateful to The Christian Century for cutting through the other noise in my life and arriving as a “message in the bottle” in my mailbox that tough October day over ten years ago. 

How do you spend your time when you are not studying?

I enjoy playing scrabble with my husband Jason.  I love going to our daughter Leah’s cross -country meets.  These fall days are filled with lots of football games with two cheerleaders in the house.  In Amish country, where we live, I love long walks and great bike rides through the back-roads.

Any other comments?

I am really grateful to the Goodwin team – and am inspired by the whole spectrum of opportunities you offer.  

For more information on the Goodwin Prize, please click here. 

On New Year’s Resolutions by Fellow Abby Deatherage '16

Every year on New Year’s Day, I read through my journal entries from the past year. I’m an avid journaler, and have been since the age of 6, when my best friend and I started matching diaries with pink-tutued kittens on the cover. Over the years, I’ve journaled just for posterity, to make sure I don’t forget the wonderful events that have happened to me, recording them just as they happen. But I’ve also journaled to vent, to process, to think through something. And I journal so that I can look for patterns, trends, and changes over time. So when I look through a whole year on New Year’s Eve, I often find hidden blessings that I’ve never noticed, or realized that something I thought had been my opinion and state for months was really only a few weeks. It’s always an exciting process, a kind of grounding, a realization of how blessed I am and how much I’ve grown over the years.

Then, I think about what I want for the coming year–how I want to improve upon my habits, my attitudes, priorities that I’ve let slip away. I try to come up with a few doable, mostly abstract resolutions. A friend of mine thinks of a theme for her year, and I’ve tried that, too. It’s hard for me to come up with a one-word answer. And every year, I resolve to stop biting my nails. (This year, I’ve kind of given up).

But in all of this reflecting, and all of this thinking ahead, one theme has particularly dominated my thoughts: the great leap into The Real World after graduation; the great unanswered question of next year. What city streets willI be wandering? What might my community of friends look like? What will I be doing with my 9 to 5 hours? Where in the world will I be for next New Year’s Eve? I’ve wandered the Internet finding institution after institution that piques my interest, pictured myself at each one, and the Excel spreadsheet of places and dates and requirements grows longer and longer. Where will I be? I can feel myself orienting my time now, my daydreaming energy, my goals, around answering that one pervasive question.

And then I went to coffee with a friend, a first year just beginning at UVa, with all the wonderful choices, new friendships, late nights, and exciting moments of four years ahead of her, and she asked me about my time at UVa–what was my biggest regret? What was the best thing of my four years there? How did I choose which organizations to be a part of? What would I do differently? What did I love about UVa?

For a moment, I felt a bit at a loss for words–unusual enough for me. I’d been reflecting on the past two semesters, sure, but suddenly I was remembering first year, a year full of new faces and wild adventures and ragged exhaustion, of learning who I was all over again. I remembered late nights in the muggy dorm rooms and basements of Bonnycastle or Emmett or Dabney or Kent, rooms ringed with new faces and playing games until midnight, or the gentle strum of a guitar and sweet violin. I was remembering second year in an echoing giant white house stuffed with fifteen girls and too many desserts, a semester rushing PSP and the gleeful sensation of a hundred new friends, road trips and giant sleepovers where I scavenged for a space on the floor. I remembered classes I couldn’t stop talking about, U Singers concerts with the full orchestra and a packed Old Cabell Hall, snow days and late breakfasts with friends.

In my big picture goals and resolutions, I’d neatly leapfrogged over the fact that in just two weeks, I am entering the culminating weeks of four years. Not that reflection or creating yearly goals are bad practices, by any means. I just happened to let The Future cloud what was right in front of me.

So, in addition to my year-long resolutions, my goal for the spring semester is to savor every moment: to let them simmer and their flavors sink into my skin, to say yes to late nights and coffee dates and friends and last-minute donut runs with my donut-loving roommate. I want to savor the lectures I have the privilege to hear instead of
distracting myself on my computer; I want to open myself wide to new friends and new ideas and new ways of doing things. I want to have more people over for dinner, for breakfast, for tea. I want to try the restaurants I’ve always wanted to, to visit the wineries I never made it to and hike the peaks I meant to. I want to live with two feet planted firmly in the present, knowing that I can’t wish the future any closer, but I can wish away the present if I’m not careful.

Reposted with permission from https://abbydeatherage.wordpress.com/2016/01/03/on-new-years-resolutions/ 

Beat the Rush: Knowing the Love & Light of God by Miska Collier

Hear the good news: you are loved! Christian spiritual counselor Miska Collier speaks words of wisdom & comfort to all who long for true acceptance. Miska's talk was recorded at an event we did in 2014 called "Beat the Rush" during sorority rush--her insights speak deeply to us all.