The Pain of CE

September 28, 2010 by Steve Pogue  
Filed under Discipleship, Recent MMMs











Phillip A. Bishop,
Exercise Physiology,
University of Alabama




[October 3, 2010] –
Have you heard of the terrible condition called “CE?”

It dates from ancient times, and its symptoms have varied over the ages. There are numerous accounts of the ravages of it in the Hebrew Scriptures as well as in the Greek Testament.

CE is “congenital emptiness.” Blaise Pascal wrote in Pensees:

“What is it, then, that this desire and this inability proclaim to us, but that there was once in man a true happiness of which there now remain to him only the mark and empty trace, which he in vain tries to fill from all his surroundings, seeking from things absent the help he does not obtain in things present? But these are all inadequate, because the infinite abyss can only be filled by an infinite and immutable object, that is to say, only by God Himself.” (#425)

A good example of this emptiness is the Samaritan woman at the well in John 4. She had tried to fill her vacuity by seeking love, which would appear to be a logical cure. Who doesn’t want to be loved? In her quest she had married five times, and was living with yet another man when Jesus met her.

Is there a cure for CE? Many of us would be tempted to say, “Just believe in Christ and accept Him as Lord and your emptiness will vanish!” It is true that Jesus does offer a well of water springing up to eternal life. Sadly, that void can often be found in Christian believers as well as unbelievers.

Think about it. Many of us as Christians in academia seek to heal our own sense of emptiness with accolades, publications, recognition by peers, frenetic schedules, and for a few of us, even wealth. Some of our fillers during our “downtime” hours are actually good things: church work, humanitarian service, Bible study, community volunteering. If any one thing could cure me, wouldn’t these last few at least be somewhat palliative?

So what rids me of this scourge? Developing a deepening relationship with the Lord God of the Universe is what He intends to truly fill the void.

The Great Commission (MATT 28:19-20) literally says to make mathetes —“learners” although we typically think it means to make converts. Conversion gets me into heaven, but cultivating this relationship through my obedience allows the Potter to mold the clay. This is my continuous and occasionally painful therapy. To be His disciple, I must be abiding in Christ as the branches in the vine. And, yes, He will prune me.

So what does this have to do with being a Christian professor?

My teaching, research, and service on campus will inevitably reflect what is going on inside me. I want what is inside me to reflect Him in what I value, and how I respond to people.

When my source of satisfaction ultimately comes from Him, I deal with the successes and setbacks of academia differently. I treat people with their problems (and consequent interruptions to my schedule) with a little more compassion.

At least I do so most days; my healing is still in process.

© 2010 Phillip A. Bishop

Caring











Mary Pedersen, Associate Dean
College of Food, Agriculture and Environmental Sciences,
Cal Poly-San Luis Obispo









[Sept. 26, 2010] –


How could they think I don’t care about them?

We have a lot of different components on our student evaluation forms and for years I ranked pretty highly on almost all of them. But there was one part of my evaluation that was low and it really frustrated me: “The student feels like I care about them.”

That really frustrated me because I really do care about my students. So I set about to figure out what I could do to show this.

It is now my practice on the first day of class to give the students an index card and tell them that I would appreciate the opportunity to get to know them. I ask them to include their hometown, major, hobbies, and their ideal job they would like to have some day.

About You
I also ask them, “Tell me something personal about yourself that helps me understand you. I will keep this absolutely confidential. Something that you want me to know about you.”

On the back side of the card, I ask them to write a question for me about anything they would like to ask— it can be personal, professional, whatever they want to know. In the course of the next few weeks, I explain, I will be answering those questions using a few minutes at the beginning of each class.

Then I share about myself: what my husband does, my children, and that the most important aspect of my life is my faith and personal relationship with Jesus. After I have collected their cards, I say, “If any of you are interested in coming to my office…if you’d like to talk about any of these things, my door is open—I’d love for you to come in and visit. Please come and see me.”

I get a lot of students sharing difficult personal experiences on their cards and some will come into my office to discuss them with me. Some will want me to pray for them. Now that I am in administration, I see many students with difficult and challenging situations (related to academic probation). With these students I need to discuss very difficult circumstances and life choices; big decisions are being made that impact their life dramatically. Many of these students are really seeking spiritual help.

A Difficult Situation
I also now work with a lot of faculty and department heads, and my role has really shifted into that of being a mentor for faculty and department heads. Sometimes their jobs will be affected by a difficult situation: they’ve just found out that their spouse has a serious illness, or they are dealing with a serious, perhaps even terminal, illness. They, too, appreciate prayer for their situation.

No matter who we are working with, students, staff or colleagues, everyone wants to know that you care about them and what is happening in their life. Take a few minutes to ask your students, staff member or colleagues how they are doing. Let them know you care.

“No one cares how much you know, until they know how much you care.” (Theodore Roosevelt)

© 2010 Mary Pedersen

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