Mark Geil,
Kinesiology and Health,
Georgia State University
[Nov 14, 2010] —
I attended a conference not related to work this past summer. No abstracts or vendor booths or poster presentations. Biomechanics, my discipline, was not mentioned once.
No, this was “Hutchmoot,” a conference of Christian musicians, authors, artists – creative types convening to figure out what it means to be a storyteller. Particularly a storyteller who is part of an eternal Story.
Unworthy
One thing in particular, one common thread in many of the presentations, struck me as I juxtaposed this gathering to a typical academic conference. One after another, a speaker mentioned a season in life when he or she felt hopelessly unworthy:
- Unworthy of this calling to minister.
- Unworthy to create art in the presence of the Master Artist.
- Unworthy to wear this banner of love that is creation.
For many, this was mentioned as an almost daily struggle, and several gave testimonies of almost quitting at least once or twice. Their tales were similar as they discovered their worth as a child of God. For many it was a rediscovery of God’s love for each of us and the boundless gift of grace.
Detached Admiration
These stories fascinated me, and I regarded them with a detached admiration — and the strong sense that I really consider myself worthy a bit too much.
After all, it is my job to be an authority in my discipline. Decisions regarding things like promotion and tenure take into account my reputation among my peers, both nationally and internationally. I’m an “expert” witness in the courtroom, an author who has passed rigorous peer-review, and I stand before students every day as the authority from which they might learn.
It’s not just those trappings of academia that trouble me, though. I have long had a ridiculous internal confidence. If I read about an award, I promptly apply and I assume I will win. If I submit a proposal for a grant, I start making plans for the inevitable funding, even if only 10% of those proposals ever get funded. Ostensibly, I’m in a good profession, because all those elements of reputation and authority tend to grow symbiotically with my own rather narcissistic self-assurance.
Discoveries of Grace
So, I marveled at the artists’ tales of their felt inadequacy and shuddered at my own perceived worthiness. I realized their little discoveries of grace were like the return of the prodigal son, and my Pharisaical superiority more like the older brother’s curmudgeonly pouting.
Now I am struggling, but in a good way. I want to be perceived as an authority who knows he is worthless apart from grace. There’s a balance there, even in academia, as I recognize that worthiness cannot be attained merely through my knowledge or station.
Seeking knowledge is certainly a good thing, but any “authority” I attain thereby is due to a sliver of insight about God’s vast and extraordinary creation, and that sliver is a gift from the ultimate, and most worthy, Authority.
© 2010 Mark Geil
I struggle with this often. There are so many opportunities and expectations to self-promote that seem to conflict with Philippians chapter two.
Thanks for your MMM. I liked the way it was written–especially the voice of humility.
Thanks.
Thanks for the much-needed insight into humility that all of us in academia need to hear.
Here’s another reason for the disparity between Christian artists and academics: It’s a lot easier to get published (and probably meet standards of accomplishment in other types of endeavors) in academia than in other fields. Academic journals, which hardly anybody reads, keep proliferating. “Real” artists work in the “real” world, where the standards are a lot more demanding. As an academic, operating in a sheltered environment with a stable income greater than a “living wage,” I have to acknowledge that artists in general, and Christian artists in particular, are facing much harder challenges than I am. Or as Kipling put it, “You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din.”