I think there’s a secret meeting that all Candler students go to at the end of their first years. At that meeting, I think every member of the divinity school covenants to scare the living daylights out of every incoming student, especially when those new students arrive for orientation.
I didn’t believe the hype. Coming fresh from a strong undergraduate program in religious studies, I had no doubt about my ability to handle the work load. And I had done several ministry internships as an undergrad, so I imagined that I could handle anything Contextual Education could throw at me. And for the most part, I’ve been handling the transition well. Take that, secret Candler intimidation meeting.
This week, however, hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks. I accidently over-committed myself to a number of curricular and extra-curricular activities, and I spent nearly an hour Monday morning trying to figure out how I was going to get it all done. Between recovering from last week’s Old Testament exam and handling the new week’s work, I wondered if the secret intimidation meeting had actually been right. Was I really about to watch my careful control of the Candler experience come crumbling down around my ears?
In the end, it didn’t. I survived the last four days, and I’m looking forward to a relaxed weekend. But in the process I learned two valuable lessons, both of which happened to be lessons I thought I already knew.
The first lesson was about failure. There were several things this week that simply didn’t get done, and more things that didn’t get done to the degree that I would have liked. And that felt bad. Or, at the very least, not good. But it was okay. Most of the things that didn’t get done, in the end, didn’t matter. And when it came to the few things that did matter, I got over it really quickly. Every once in a while, it’s perfectly okay to fail. Life goes on, even when that task falls by the wayside. Of course, it’s not a good habit to cultivate, but in the middle of chaos it can be very helpful to know that failure and incompletion are both natural parts of life.
The second lesson was completely different, and it was really more of a revelation occasioned by an experience in Old Testament this morning. When it comes to OT, I’ve been in serious study mode for the past few days. We had our first exam last Thursday, and I guess I’m still coming down from the experience. Today, however, Dr. LeMon shook things up a bit. Today, we sang.
We sang an ancient Hebrew song that goes like this:Ashira la adonay ki ga’oh ga’ah Ashira la adonay ki ga’oh ga’ah Mi kamochah ba’elim adonay Mi kamochah ne’dar baqqodesh Nachita bechasdekah am zu ga’alta Nachita bechasdekah am zu ga’alta Ashira! Ashria! Ashira!
I was flooded with a sense of joy because of that simple melody. In one moment, I was reminded that this school of theology is not just a place of intense academic formation (although it is that, and it was what attracted me to Candler in the first place), but it is also a place where the whole person is embraced. In singing that song, we tapped in to one of the most ancient Hebrew expressions of faith. We also watched the song be interpreted in the film The Prince of Egypt. And then we discussed its theological significance, both in the Exodus context and in the modern American context. As I watched my classmates clap and sing, the week’s anxiety melted away.
In English, the lyrics to the song mean something like this:I will sing to the Lord, for he has triumphed gloriously I will sing to the Lord, for he has triumphed gloriously Who is like you among the Gods, O Lord? Who is like you, majestic in holiness? You led in your steadfast love the people whom you redeemed You led in your steadfast love the people whom you redeemed I will sing! I will sing! I will sing!
I’m sure it will be stuck in my head for the next several days, but every time I find myself humming that tune, I’ll also be remembering the lessons of this week. Because the Lord has triumphed gloriously, I can find peace in failing. It’s a part of my existence, and it doesn’t change who God is or how we relate. And I’ll also remember the school where I first learned this song, a school where my whole person is embraced and I am taught both to think and to sing.
Thanks be to God for these lessons.
Aaron is a first year student from Cumming, GA, a graduate of Samford University, and a Candler Student Ambassador. He is also a member of the Gospel Catalyst Network of the Academy of Preachers.