Bee season has hit hollywood. Nominated for the 2003 Oscar for best documentary, "Spellbound" has inspired two movies to tell the story of how belief in a dream first begins with the belief in oneself. "Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure," Marianne Williamson once wrote. The story of "Akeelah and the Bee", then, takes Williamson at her word as it partakes in the journey of an eleven year old girl on her way to finding in herself more than she ever thought she would.
In many ways, I think we all believe that there is something better than what we are deep within us. And as Christians, I think we know that that potential, that unmarked territory, is intimately connected with God's purpose for our lives. Psalm 139 describes the intricacies of our formation, and Jesus himself promises us a life to the full. There is something more than what we are, a dream that can be fulfilled, not if we first believe in ourselves, but if we can believe that God loves us and that He desires to "prosper and not [...] harm [us], [...] to give [us] a hope and a future" (Jeremiah 29:10-12). Perhaps that's the biggest and most difficult hurdle, our deepest fear being not that we are inadequate, but that in our inadequacies there could be someone who loves us that much. But I also know that that is the message of grace at its very core.
My deepest fear, however, is not that I am powerful beyond measure. Perhaps at one point, perhaps at one point. My deepest fear this year has been that I am inadequate. And I do not say that to be self-deprecating nor do I say it lightly. Over these past few days, God has answered my prayers in many unexpected ways and the corollary of that has been an opportunity to finally look at this fear and ask myself firstly what it is exactly that I am afraid of, whether I should even be afraid, and most importantly, why it is that I am afraid.
Tied to the physical world, my fear is on the surface connected to that of not making it into the PhD program here. Our acceptance is dependent on our performance in each of our papers and exams this year and there is a minimum of 65 that we must hit in each if we are to even be considered (the marking scheme is different from the one back home and 65 here nears distinction; there are no letter grades and the highest and the impossible is an 80). It is a scary place with some of the most brilliant minds and writers in the world but if I were to be honest with myself, this is not what scares me the most. What scares me most is life itself. Working so hard to get somewhere, to be someone, to aspire to great things is most frightening when you are at the threshold of actually becoming that "someone." Dreams are always better than the reality in this world, the strive always better than the goal, and what has kept me from throwing myself one hundred percent into this program has been that fear - of finally stepping over that line and actually having to do what I always said I would do, had always hoped I would do, had promised God that I would do. Equally frightening is the possibility of failure, of inadequately fulfilling that dream and those promises because I am myself inadequate. The possibility of falling short scares me more than anything. But if you put less than your all, then the failure (should it come) will also hurt less.
Three weeks ago I called up my supervisor's dissertation in the manuscripts room and broke down in tears because of the beauty and ease with which he wrote. Young and precocious, he is already the Director of Studies at Christ's College and will be one of the forward minds in our field. I silently desired to write like him that day and God heard me because He showed me a way how this past Friday during our supervision. Following him into his office, he flicked on a single light and looked out the window after asking me how I thought my first paper went. I returned the question and he thought for a moment before telling me the most humbling thing I have heard in two years. He said my writing at this time was more undergraduate than graduate and that at this level, I can no longer impose artificial structures onto a text and make them work. No longer is my job to demonstrate that I can make an argument and push it to its conclusion. No longer am I to present things as black and white. "Because literature and ideas aren't really like that are they? They are not distinct, not black and white but gray and complex. So incredibly complex. You are now responsible for everything you say and your job at this stage is no longer to argue but to tell the truth." And the truth of literature and ideas is complex. I loved him so much for his honesty at that point and that path that I hadn't been able to find became very clear. Let go of your centre. Tell truth.
I believe that God allows us to meet people who inspire us at our very core. I believe that He assigns us to people we would have never met on our own, by our own strength. My deepest fear right now is that I will let failure impede this journey, whatever it is, because that's what I do. My deepest fear is fear itself. But then, taking God at HIS word, "perfect love drives out fear" (1 John 4:18) does it not? The beginnings of a nascent confidence, not in oneself but in her maker.
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