On my way home from work today, I saw a billboard along the side of the road which looked something like this:
Upon seeing this board, one might be inclined to make some sort of statement about the politics of such a move, of the board's right or lack thereof to remain in the public square. One might be tempted to analyze the social structure of the type of community that would allow such a board to exist along an interstate highway. One's thoughts would not be entirely out of place. I do live in the Bible Belt and there is a certain assumption about the Christian faith that comes with a community in the place where I was raised.
However, if one were to consider the socio-political implications of this sign, one could not be further from the first thoughts that I entertained when I saw it. I, being of a more literary bent, immediately considered the grammatical implications of the sign -- namely, that the sign is entirely void of punctuation.
Wishing to be helpful, I brainstormed some ways to punctuate the poor fellow for a perplexed audience. Perhaps the sign should read "Jesus, I trust you." This would be the most modest reading of the sign, but raises one important question. Just who is it that trusts Jesus? Upon whom does the burden of the first person singular identification lie? Surely not me, the viewer. The author? But who is the author, our hand writing on the wall, if you will? At the very least, I prefered a more emphatic punctuation: "Jesus, I trust you!" At the least, one ought to show conviction about this thing if one is going to create a billboard and remain anonymous in the posting of it. Another possibility arose in my mind though, one that seemed to me more enticing. "Jesus: 'I trust you!' " is the punctuation that seems most interesting to me because it turns the entire phrase on its head. Jesus, it would seem, could in this statement show some sort of confidence in me. The picture of him with open arms and bleeding heart certainly indicates an openness to give love rather than merely accepting it from another. I wept a little bit at the thought that this Jesus was willing to show confidence in me, even though I certainly am not a trustworthy person in the divinest sense of the word trustworthy.
I want to think that it's possible that Jesus could, possibly, trust in me for a change. Not that I think that I deserve to be trusted. I most often do not. I know that Biblically, to trust in my own ability is futile, and I have the evidence to prove it. Yet, I have been, of late, going through a period of insecurity and doubt in myself, in others, and in beliefs that I used to accept without wavering, and I would like a salve to fix it. As my world expands and I meet more new people who live in more new ways and I try to be intimate with those people in romance or in friendship, I learn more new reasons not to trust that people will pull through for me, remain loyal to me, protect me, and love me as myself. As I try more things I've never done before, I fail at them, or find myself less talented than others, thus doubting myself and my ability to continue to innovate and experience new things. As I ask more questions and understand more philosophy and literature, I understand the diversity of human thought, and how much more of it criticizes my own belief system than accepts it. My friends and I had a very hard last semester, and, on the brink of yet another, I can do nothing to secure that this semester will be better for us -- that we will have learned kindness rather than pettiness or joy instead of bitterness -- other than believe that it will, which is a very hard task.
I have never in my life desired more to have bags packed to run away and worry everyone else around me for a change rather than be worried myself, being as unreliable and out of control on the outside as I feel inside myself right now. It would be poetic justice of sorts, a kind of living art, to demonstrate what is going on inside by an undisciplined sort of external rally. At the least, it would attract attention. To know for certain that the one being who could never let me down thinks enough of me to trust me and invest in me in order to make me something makes me want to delve into life with an enthusiasm that I just haven't felt in quite some time. It makes me want to stay, dig my hands in deep to the mess of life and try to figure out how to make things work out better.
Everyone has had this feeling from time to time, I hope. Ishmael in Moby Dick retreated to the ocean whenever he felt this sort of "damp, drizzly November of the soul." Since whaling wouldn't be a viable or desirable profession to me (I learned last semester that whaling is now only "scientific." Though my Oceanography professor was certainly skeptical of that sort of science), I must find another way.
The other way, I believe, is the way of trust. I've got a lot to learn about trust and also about being trustworthy.
In academics, trust and collaboration have often been shunned in place of competition and solitary struggle with concepts. I have to confess that in college I have never had an unreliable group project group. I've always had fun, done my share of the work -- no more, no less -- and worked with partners of equal ability and dedication to the project. My friends tell me that this is not a typical experience. It is common to have shiftless colleagues who fail to attend meetings, show up at deadline without completed work, etc. In high school, I recall that was how groups worked -- I did the work, others watched -- though whether they watched due to laziness, genuine incompetence, or fear to interrupt my perfectionism-driven work sessions, I don't know. Most of my friends who have had poor project experiences comment about how they don't wish to do them ever again. And my friends are intelligent types who could do anything they wished -- including teach or inspire their group members to success.
I have a theory. Even though group projects and other collaborative activities seem unimportant in the scheme of thing, that it really is ok for me to prefer to work alone, I think that unwillingness to participate in collaboration is often a sign of a lack of trust in others or in one's self. We try to organize things, control results, and we often find that the best way is the sort of withdrawal that we justify as introversion. As an introvert, I understand the deep desire to be alone, but I also know that I use it as an excuse to hide from situations that frustrate me sometimes. We refuse to be frustrated for the sake of others, in order to teach them or to help them grow.
Life is chaotic. Unexpected delays happen, people make wilfull irresponsible decisions with alcohol or drugs or diet or sleep habits that result in illness or instability, tempers run wild and play the fitful throwing and raging games that they play best, traffic and public transportation create commotion, solid beliefs are challenged by new competing belief systems, leaving an individual feeling confused and conflicted at best, but at worst, hollow without a sustaining inner core to fall back upon. I have been disappointed before, inconvenienced and delayed and hurt by the chaos of others -- even chaos in the form of unexpected illness or accidents that no one can control. The chaos isn't my fault, but I have to deal with it, and I find that very unfair sometimes, and I'm just unprepared and unwilling. In order to head off the chaos before it starts, my reaction is to control everything around me, to solve a problem through intense organization to persuade people to behave as I'd wish them to so that I'm not uncomfortable -- even on issues that have no clear right and wrong answer. You can imagine how successful I am at doing so.
If I am not the one being disappointed, I am the disappointment, the one who causes worry. I've gone through phases of depression, days of disobedience, seasons of subversion of rules and norms. I am not as talented as some, I do not live up to my own potential. I have failed at things I badly wished to succeed at. I am unreliable at returning phone calls or emails. I often cancel meetings with people for reasons that are foolish. I cry and throw things for reasons I cannot explain sometimes -- because I'm restless or I feel like I'm not in control of my life, mostly.
Sometimes the chaos is rather beautiful though. A friend unexpectedly crosses one's path while she walks home, making the walk more pleasant, Someone gives a surprise present -- not because it's a holiday, but just because it's a day and one is one's beautiful self, worthy of a gift. Sometimes a disaster of an evening works out for the best because it averted greater disaster or allowed for friends to understand that they care about each other unconditionally rather than only in moments where they can entertain each other or provide pleasing distractions.
I've been reading alot of articles about mess and procrastination because of that new book that is out (I forget the title, but I'll find it) and how we ought to glory in them as, at the least, part of the process of creation, if not for their own sakes. I want to be more free to trust, to let behind the control that I use to try to keep people from letting me down or leaving me behind. These are just thoughts that reflect my state of being on the brink of heading back to school again, but they might be useful to pursue further given time and space for contemplation, thing I might just have very little of.
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