1 Corinthians 13:1-10
If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast,but do not have love, I gain nothing.
Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogantor rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end.
I’ve heard these verses countless times–at weddings, from the pews, we even memorized them in Sunday school. But I hardly noticed the clanging of my own symbol or the noise of my own gong until the words were already out of my mouth, until it was too late.
I don’t think I’ve experienced such peer pressure since high school but I didn’t recognize it as such because I was in the company of adults. The trite laughter at the expense of others, the insider-outsider politics, and the meanness of it all should have made it clear.
But I played along.
I laughed with those mean-hearted academics, albeit with a sinking feeling in my stomach. I became a clanging symbol, a noisy gong, a person I, myself, despised.
What I did that evening over a lovely dinner with not so lovely company is that I bowed before the god of knowledge, success, and reason rather than the wisdom of grace. Feeling myself seduced by the grandeur of expertise and success I felt ugly, false, and fearful. These are the feelings that make me question how I can ever live out this academic vocation while remaining true to a God of love and grace?
In sharing this crisis with others around me, I’ve been reminded that while love, wisdom, and grace are certainly counter-cultural to the academic hustle-and-bustle, they’re not wholly absent. As one of my colleagues pointed out, if we hate these types of dinner conversations, it’s up to this next generation of scholars to believe that there’s room enough for us all to be smart and succeed, and we don’t have to do it by stepping on one another to get there. Success is also something that seemingly looms large and scarce, but as it turns out success can mean fulfillment, and fulfillment takes many forms. There are also bullies like these everywhere, not only in academia.
I just don’t want to be one of them.
At the end of the day, I felt so blessed to come home to my husband and daughter and see that in spite of my antics that evening, their grace and God’s grace embraced me fully. At that moment my efforts to fit in and be smart were a farce, and forgiveness made me feel low and humble, but fully at home and free.
The scripture above says that even knowledge will come to an end! And when knowledge fades, it is only faith, hope, and love that remain. I am inspired by this pursuit of knowledge in my life, but the other night was a good reminder that it should not consume me. I will not be consumed by worshipping these false gods of knowledge, success, and self-aggrandizement. Instead I will rejoice in worshipping a God who wants more for me and for all his children, a God whose grace is sufficient, a God whose love is everlasting. I will struggle to be faithful and I will call myself blessed.