graduating and stuff

Almost four weeks ago, I graduated from Cal Berkeley with Bachelor of Arts degrees in Political Science and Legal Studies. God knows I got through it because of mercy. And a whole bunch of grace. (I'm not just saying this to exaggerate; I had really bad grades in the beginning.) God also knows I've actually done nothing much to merit the prestige and opportunity I've been offered from this place.

More than anything, I just happened to be the daughter of a hopeful young immigrant couple who buckled their seat belts and trusted in the Lord as they packed up their lives to settle here. I then proceeded to just happen to be given a wonderful education and a parental support system that goaded me toward opportunity when I didn't even understand the significance of it. I then proceeded to be met with episodes and episodes of mercy when I had developed no real study habits or when my self-righteousness skyrocketed my ego through the roof. I actually didn't deserve any of  this, but then again, all is grace. Let's think but for a moment about the weight of our privilege. Let's not let the fact that everyone else around us is also graduating dilute the gravity of the status, access, and opportunity we have at our fingertips in the scope of our world. 

I'm here to write about graduating. Merriam-Webster defines graduating as "passing from one stage of experience, proficiency, or prestige to a usually higher one" and "admitting to a particular standing or grade." When I graduated from high school, I remember receiving my diploma and feeling so restless and ready to leave home. I was ready to graduate from Fremont and enjoy the thrill of venturing into new life in Berkeley. My diploma marked my passing from one stage to a higher (and better) one. I remember actively voicing my eagerness to leave home. In doing so, I largely demerited the experiences, relationships, and lessons I had been given while in that place. I was excited to leave because something I considered better had been secured for me; home and the adolescent life experiences that had formed me to that point no longer merited my investment or appreciation.

I stand here today, deep in transition, and I recognize the temptation to do the same thing again - to graduate. College did good for me. College was hard on me, and I've earned this right to commence and forget, right? This would make sense, that with a few secondary degrees secured under my belt, I am entitled to look toward the glamorous working world to build my life into the form I've envisioned for it. Only this time, I've been hit by the humbling truth that my Good Shepherd found me while I was here. In the midst of my selfish ambitions and identity crises and unearthed insecurities clouding my vision throughout my time at Cal, I found the Living God finding me. I am found!

I was sitting in a Sunday worship service at Regeneration Church a few weeks ago when the pastor referenced the well-known Scripture passage on love.

If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. --1 Corinthians 13:1-3

As I read along, I felt strongly that I had employed this graduation mentality on this dense dense message. Giving all I have to the poor is an action that reflects an altruism that intimately follows Jesus's call to lay myself down. Giving my body to hardship is a self-denial that dangerously mirrors the way Christ gave himself to the point of death. Having a faith that moves mountains reflects such power and access to the hand of God himself. And yet, I had reduced this high call to pursue and have love to the pursuit of the actions that merely reflect it. I tried to graduate from 1 Corinthians 13, and now I see that this is actually impossible. In fact, I desperately need the Spirit's help to pursue and have Love.

Right now, I'm resting in a period of uncertainty about where my career is going. I'm applying to jobs and fellowships, and I'm still sitting in a small puddle of residual self-ambition and insecurity. I don't have specific concrete vision for what my life will be used for. I need God's help. Given my position and my "standing," I know I'll secure a job sooner or later, and his vision will undoubtedly unravel itself in my life. And as my uncertainty dissolves, and opportunity materializes into interviews and job offers, I'll gradually graduate from needing God. But oh, how foolish that would be, to walk away from the lifeline to everything.

The Lord is good over me. He is showing me that I need him, and not just in the moments and situations of obvious need. In the essence of who I am, I need God. In that I am his, I need him. Not for my survival's sake, but for my thriving's sake, I need him.

All of this to say, I need Christ and what he did on that Cross today, more than I did yesterday. What a mind-boggling thought. Tomorrow, I will need him more than I do today. How can I ever dare even think to myself (even if not actively declare it like I declared my excitement for leaving Fremont) that I have graduated from the Gospel of Jesus Christ? This Gospel of radical scandalous self-denying Love over me? I will never graduate from this Gospel. I will ever need my God.

And to ever need my God is to ever be assured of his saving love over me. To need him is to be assured him.

So I pray, that these degrees I will obtain and the development of my character will be employed to Kingdom-bringing work drenched in love like that of the Gospel I will never graduate from, and a heart that joyfully declares my humble need for the Good Shepherd who found me while I lived and learned to follow him at UC Berkeley.