I
failed the exam. It was my first academic quarter in graduate school at the University
of Florida, and I was sitting in Dr. King’s graduate organic spectroscopy course
looking at my graded test paper. It wasn’t a C or a D, but a good, solid F. Very
sad face. Deep breath. Call Carla back at BJU and pour out my heart. Deep breath. OK, let’s work harder. And so I did. I returned to class
after the next test was graded, hoping for a good grade, and I had improved. To a D.
What
was going on? First, I had done pretty well at BJU and I was simply studying as
I had done before. It wasn’t working, and I needed to change my ways. This isn’t
surprising—I’ve seen this many times in my students over the years. Apparently
my approach was inadequate. Second, I was treating my studies mechanically,
with an attitude of “I know how to do this, and so I’ll just execute my strategy.”
In of itself, there’s nothing wrong with doing things that we think will work.
The problem was that I had factored the Lord out of the picture. One of the
Psalms says,
“Unless
the LORD builds the house, They labor in vain who build it;
Unless the LORD guards the
city, The watchman keeps awake in vain.”
Psalm 127:1 (NASB)
The
author was Solomon, and he surely knew what he was talking about. No, you can’t
even build a house without God’s blessing upon the process. A simple flood or
fire takes care of it, regardless of how much those hard-working construction workers
try. No, you can’t even pass your graduate organic spectroscopy course without
God’s blessing upon the process. God was tapping me on the shoulder and saying,
“Remember Me, Brian?” I sought Him in prayer. I prayed as if it were all up to Him
and worked as if it were all up to me.
Third,
although I had no knowledge at that time that the Lord would direct me to teach
at BJU, He was preparing me to have input into the chemistry curriculum at BJU.
My undergraduate chemistry training had some deficiencies in it, and God intended
me to help address them. Some dealt with organic spectroscopy, and we have remedied
those.
I
think it was after my D that I approached Dr. King after class one day and reminded him that I wasn’t
doing well. I also pointed out that I had become aware that my
fellow graduate students had access to files of his old tests, and that they
were relying on them when preparing. I had a conscience problem with this, and
so I asked him point blank, “Is it OK for me to use those files when studying
for tests?” Dr. King was a colorful old professor. Short, balding, with long,
flowing white hair on the sides of his head and a long, white beard. He walked with
a pronounced limp, and he spoke with a stereotypical English accent. Apparently,
nobody had ever asked him a question like this. “Ahem, aaaah, of course, I know
such things happen, but, aah, AHEM, that doesn’t necessarily mean that I APPROVE
of them.” And there it was. I just couldn’t do it because my conscience wouldn’t
allow me to. I didn’t use those files. I think I got a D+ on the next test. Things
were going well.
Dr.
King decided to use a final exam consisting of all new questions. He was
probably thinking something like, “I’m going to find out what they REALLY know.”
I got the highest grade in the class. My determination to do what was right, my
reliance on the Lord, my hard work, and let us not forget a major and essential
part of this—God’s blessing on my efforts—led to a really good grade. Dr. King
gave me a B+ in that course, and I’ve never been so happy for a B+ in my life.
I think he was generous, and, given my earlier performance, there was no way to
justify my getting an A. And then the Lord used another course the next quarter
to work on me some more. He’s still working on me, and it’s not easy.
We
have a natural tendency to think that things should go smoothly. We think that
if we’re thankful, and we rejoice, and we spend enough time in prayer and
reading God’s word, and we let the peace of God rule in our hearts, and we
praise Him enough, then life will be idyllic. It doesn’t work like that.
“…That I may know Him and
the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings, being
conformed to His death; in order that I may attain to the resurrection from the
dead.”
Philippians 3:10-11 (NASB)
We
love the idea of experiencing the power of His resurrection and, in keeping with
His promises, being raised from death to life eternal. What we are told of that
life suggests that it will be idyllic. The problem is the part stuck in the
middle: getting a taste of His suffering, giving up our will daily, and accepting
affliction when He knows that it will accomplish His purpose. Lots of people suffer
in one way or another, but only His children gain eternal benefit from it.
The
Lord Jesus Christ, the creator of the universe, is fully God, but He became
fully human. In His humanity, He set aside the full expression of His divinity.
As a young person, he learned. He submitted to His parents. He grew, He matured,
and He had a public ministry. He had anguish in His soul, grieved, and wept. He
was a man of sorrows. They reviled Him, they spit upon Him. They crucified Him.
It doesn’t sound idyllic to me. And we’re supposed to follow His example.
I’m
currently reading a
book on the humanity of Christ, and I’m going to quote a short passage from
it:
“The life of
faith, of growing faith and strengthened character, is one that involves a
fight for faith and enduring through difficulties. This life of faith is never
lived on auto-pilot; it is never a life of passivity and ease; it isn’t
something done to us without our full and active participation. These glimpses
we’ve seen of Jesus—who offered prayers and supplications through loud crying
and tears, who prayed three times in the Garden of Gethsemane for the cup to be
removed—give evidence to the active, war-like nature of the life of faith. If
anyone might be thought to have lived on auto-pilot, it would be Jesus. After
all, along with his true and full humanity, he was fully God; and although he
had the nature of a man, his human nature was totally sinless. You would think
such a person (unlike any of us!) could coast. To have a divine nature and a
sinless human nature would seem to make obedience easy. Well, look again at
Jesus. What you see is a man who labored to obey, who agonized in the testings
the Father designed for him, who fought through the trials of life to maintain
his integrity and obedience before his Father.”
Why
should it be any different for those that follow Him?
