Bearings is a student-run journal of Christian thought at the University of Virginia that seeks to provide an interdenominational and interdisciplinary forum for spiritual conversation on Grounds.
COVER DESIGN
Ashley Fan Photography and Typography
When our team gathered this past spring to discuss possible themes for our upcoming issue, the word “Fall” resurfaced throughout our conversation. At first the suggestion felt far too narrow to prompt diverse literary submissions; we imagined an issue full of nothing but poems about autumn and theological analyses of Genesis 3. Yet despite our editorial misgivings, the fact that we returned to it again and again presented a compelling argument to make it our theme.
Thus, we have spent our past several months dwelling on “Fall” in all its iterations. Some parts of it have been beautiful: our writers gifted us with sweeping descriptions of the changing seasons, from the broad autumn landscape to the plight of the smallest leaf. Some parts have been hard: we’ve examined closely the most broken parts of ourselves as individuals and as a community. And yet, although most of the pieces in this issue are tinged with sorrow and suffering, it is in these most broken parts that the Lord’s love for us is seen most vividly. As He says to us in 2 Corinthians 12:9, “my power is made perfect in weakness.”
Too often, we breeze past the Fall in favor of the happier part of the story. And of course we should celebrate God’s mercy in redeeming and restoring us! But how much more beautiful does that story become when we fully recognize the depth of our sin — even when it’s hard. It is, after all, in beholding the darkness that the light becomes most radiant.
In the end, our fears about “Fall” being too restrictive as a concept were entirely unfounded. There are countless ways in which our sin manifests itself and the repercussions of the Fall can seem endless. But our hope for this issue is that you will look earnestly at the world’s brokenness, yet not despair; rather, may you rejoice all the more in the singular, ultimate source of our hope: the love and mercy of our heavenly Father.
We would like to extend our sincerest thanks to the Parent’s Program, the Center for Christian Study, and our other donors for their generous financial support. Thanks also to our editors, writers, artists, and designers, who embraced the challenge of making this issue of Bearings beautiful rather than bleary (and who succeeded marvelously). Lastly, thank you, reader, for venturing to confront the shadows so the Light might meet you there.
In Christ,
Grace Whitaker, Editor-in-Chief
Maddie Mislock, Editor-in-Chief
Grace Whitaker Editor-in-Chief
Maddie Mislock Editor-in-Chief
Peyton Rabb President Lauren Campbell Creative Director
Lillian Buchanan
Sophie Burk
Paola Mendez-Garcia
Anna Heetderks
Meredith Hicks
Selby Ireland
Katie Mead
Maddie Mislock
Peyton Rabb
Grace Whitaker
Helen Sparling | Painting
Ashley Fan | Photography & Illustration
Thomas Laughridge | Photography
Jack Miller | Photography
Grace Campbell | Drawing
DESIGNERS
Lydia Kim | Pages 6 – 7
Thomas Laughridge | Pages 8 – 11
Lauren Campbell | Pages 12 – 13
Peyton Stallings | Pages 14 – 15
Jack Miller | Pages 16 – 17
Carey Thomas | Pages 18 – 23
Annelise Wolfe | Pages 24 – 27
Ashley Fan | Pages 28 – 31
Olivia Haas | Pages 32 – 33
MOTHER OF ALL LIVING
Katie Mead
FAMILY AS GOSPEL
Hannah McInturff
BABEL
Selby Ireland
Hannah Hanford
At present we are on the outside of the world, the wrong side of the door. We discern the freshness and purity of morning, but they do not make us fresh and pure. We cannot mingle with the splendours we see. But all the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumour that it will not always be so. Some day, God willing, we shall get in.
C.S. Lewis, “The Weight of Glory”
He meant this tree?
KATIE MEAD
The beautiful serpent smiles at me warmly, “He didn’t mean what He said— what do your eyes tell you? Certainly a taste won’t turn you dead.”
I hesitate and contest half-heartedly, but then he meets my eyes like an intimate invitation— a glance’s gaping gravity which pulls inward this innocent temptation. It promises such True pleasantry— it appears to be lovely; it appears to be holy; it appears it could be mine.
Is holding God’s greater wisdom not inherently divine?
It begins. I eat, and the ground drops beneath my feet holding that fruit of muted command; I place the enchanting thing so sweet into my husband’s strong, receiving hand.
I think he senses something about me, but I insist as I am persuaded to share my insightful ecstasy while I run swiftly to the branches to reach for another (and another). My eyes plead desperately that passive he tastes after my curious bite my mouth dripping with unfamiliar dryness, my tongue too-soon unsated by this de-light.
How do I savor the floating sensation of falling freely at this height? He eats; It is finished.
Rapidly, I notice a dirtiness which gives birth to this feeling in my forsaken flesh: uneasy, unsteady, urgently slowing.
Why has this wonderful world so suddenly stopped glowing?
I have taken the Deceiver at his word, and I shutter as he undresses my nakedness sharply inspecting me inch by inch, now reveling in my dull, grey garment— this shameful body I observe with prematurely opened eyes.
I hide from the Voice I refused to heed, cowering now in falling leaves. Adam muttered “lonely,” and “lonely” is contagious. he is distant and so is He–I shiver uncovered, imploring the Day’s Cool
Why can I not bask in the benefit of wisdom’s pleasantly packaged disguise?
Why are they so far away in this once warm garden God tasked me to tend?
Why do I look like this: bleeding blue as the branches scratch my punctured skin holding a red reflection of my bruised demise within; breaking, I run with bare feet I wish were calloused to stumble further and further, colliding with chaos unbalanced.
I guess His word was true.
Adam, where are you?
I resemble destruction; I resemble disgust; I resemble death. God, is this Your doing of life that You take hold of its final breath?
HANNAH M C INTURFF
Why is it that in the Christian tradition, we refer to God as the Father in our prayers? Why is Jesus referred to as “the Son of God?” Repeatedly in the Bible, the love of God is represented in the form of familial relationships. Twothirds of the Trinity itself are “The Father” and “The Son.” The eternal love that was present before creation and will always exist afterward is taken from its divine form and diluted to our human understanding in the form of parental love. In 2 Corinthians, Paul compares God’s love toward us to a father’s love, saying, “‘I will be a Father to you and you will be my sons and daughters,’ says the Lord almighty.” Additionally, in Revelation 21, John compares the church to a bride, writing, “I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband.” These institutions of marriage and the family were given to us by God as reflections of His love.
These relationships are tangible and imperfect images that reveal the perfect and holy love of God. To a certain extent, all relationships reflect God’s love, but marriage and the love of a parent deal with an intense vulnerability that is not found in many other relationships. Children are completely reliant on their parents for all things. In marriage, spouses see the ins and outs of the other person’s life; they see them at their absolute worst and their wits’ end. Throughout our lives, we will be most dependent on our parents and our spouse. A parent’s love is a child’s first image of what God’s love is. When an earthly father abandons a family or is negligent, the child will naturally extrapolate that hurt to their heavenly father. Abused authority makes all authority look like abuse. Similarly, when a woman has been hurt over and over by men who used her, she will begin to think all men are cruel and uncaring. She will extrapolate that resentment to Jesus, the man who sacrificed everything because of His love for her. Because her vulnerability has been abused, she refuses to be vulnerable, she feels attacked by the exposure of her flaws, and she misses out on the unconditional love available to her. These relationships, created to be a reflection of God’s unconditional love, cause the greatest hurt when abused or neglected. There is a part deep in human nature that understands the beauty of what these relationships could be, and is all the more hurt and disappointed when they are not.
Broken relationships are nothing new. God tells us right after the Fall that there will be tension in relationships that were once supposed to be in perfect harmony. To Eve He says, “In pain you shall bring forth children; your desires shall be for you husband, and he shall rule over you.” We see that there will be pain in the relationship between mother and child and strain between husband and wife. The effect of this is made obvious in some of the earliest figures in the Bible. Abraham, the father of the Jewish people, not trusting God’s promise for a son with his wife, turns to her maidservant to conceive Ishmael. Later, as promised, he and his wife conceive Isaac. Sarah is more loved by Abraham, and Isaac receives the full inheritance, causing jealousy between the women, so much so that upon Sarah’s request Abraham sends Hagar and Ishmael out of his camp to fend for themselves in the wilderness. Abraham’s love for his son Ishmael was polluted by sin.
Jacob, Abraham’s grandson, marries two sisters in the book of Genesis. He loves Rachel and plans to marry her, but he is first tricked into marrying her sister, Leah, by his father-in-law. Leah is aware her husband never wanted to marry her and prefers her sister. After conceiving a son before Rachel, Leah reveals her heart and says “now my husband will love me.” The relationship between husband and wife was twisted into something that hurt. Rather than being loved in her marriage, Leah felt unloved. God did not create humans to have relationships where parents abandon their children and spouses have to earn love from each other. He created us to be recipients of His perfect love and to reflect that in our relationships with others, but this model has been distorted by our sin.
This familial brokenness is especially prevalent in the modern West. Fathers are abandoning families, there is a staggering divorce rate, most young adults have strong animosity towards their parents and how they were raised, and there is a startling belligerence between men and women in our culture. This breakdown is not the progression of an enlightened people, but the product of an attack on our very notion of the character of God and what love is. How are people to understand Christ’s love for the church when every marriage they
He created us to be recipients of His perfect love and to reflect that in our relationships with others, but this model has been distorted by our sin.
have come in close proximity to has ended in divorce? How are people supposed to trust the love of an eternal and divine Father when their earthly father did not think they were enough? The betrayal of vulnerability here on earth makes the vulnerability that the love of an all-knowing and completely good God demands all the more difficult.
The prevalence of this brokenness should not discourage, but motivate resistance. The most effective way to resist this attack on the love and character of God is to reject the cultural phenomenon of despising others for the ways they fall short of the perfection we want from them. It is popular to complain about our parents, to find flaws with the way they raised us and how they reacted to hard situations. We blame them for our trauma and forget that they were doing their best as human beings navigating parenting in a broken world. On the internet there are constant fights between groups of men and women who blame each other for all of society’s problems. Rarely do we acknowledge that each sex faces unique challenges and has their own set of strengths. It is true that parents will not be perfect, and sometimes they will even make decisions that may hurt their children. It is true that men and women can be extremely cruel to each other in relationships. However, the reality of sin in this world does not mean we should give up on these relationships. In fact, it makes them all the more important.
In a world full of hurt, bitterness, and resentment, Christian relationships should stand apart. Christians have an understanding that because of sin all people, including our parents and spouses, are deeply flawed. So much so that we are guaranteed to be hurt by them at some point in our relationships. Yet, God has shown us that the answer to this is not to give up. In the book of Hosea, God commands the prophet Hosea, saying, “Go, show your love to your wife again, though she is loved by another man and adulteress. Love her as the Lord loves the Isrealites, though they turned to other gods and loved the sacred raisin cakes.” Just as God has loved us despite our constant turning away from him, we are commanded to love others. These are not just relationships to continue a family name or even to make us happy, but these are relationships God has given us as tools to better understand his love.
It is so easy to tell someone “Jesus loves you,” but to most people this statement is too abstract. What does it mean for God to love them? What does it look like? Why should they care? Christians cannot answer these questions with theological discussion. It takes the practice of sacrificial love in the daily life of a Christian, which often starts in the home. Everybody is a son or daughter, and many people will end up getting married or having children. Love these people faithfully and sacrificially, not allowing your love to be contingent on how they make you feel. Allow the differences that make loving these people hard, emphasizing the commitment and love Christ first had for us. Forgive your parents for how they may have fallen short, and celebrate them for the things they have done well. Love your spouse well in the times it is easy and in the times it is hard. Reject the notion that children are burdens, and view them the same way God views us: with joy and gladness. Love knowing that each and every one of these relationships is called to reflect God’s unconditional love.
Hannah McInturff is a fourth year student in the School of Nursing. She volunteers at the LifeSpring pregnancy center, and in her freetime loves to listen to
and play
I stand atop this tower deeply proud of what, with brick and tar, we made supreme. We seized the power never quite endowed by Him whose glory lesser fools esteem.
Today we celebrate our red success proclaiming all the wonders naught but sought. So listen abscomen and ladies jess, we are the martyrs of what we have wrought.
Yet, if our homily within the gleam, consuming piety or gravel grace. Ot mortalense we deem ourselves supreme just as the oskillation’s firm rebase.
Neround emotey wear neray I jall, ot God, lefthera
It is a unique death, no doubt. The trees do not cling desperately to life; their branches simply submit to the breeze with an unclenched hand. Into the wind, they whisper a farewell, and their leaves descend to be crumpled under our feet. Thus is the process of falling. If one had
The beautiful truth in that submission is that death gives way to life. For the rebirth of springtime to transpire, the seasons of self-death and bitterly cold purification must precede it. In the blustering frigid mornings of February, it is the promise of April’s glowing warmth that spurs us on. In the same manner, as we wrestle with the exposition and extermination of our darkest desires, it is the hope found in Christ’s goodness—
the warmth of His forgiveness—that sustains and fulfills us. For Christ reveals in Himself the ultimate progression of death preceding life in His crucifixion and redemptive resurrection. If, therefore, the God of the universe can submit to death on a cross, we need not fear dying to ourselves. We are free to embrace the colorful narrative of transformation; we are free to fall.
Reagan Stallings is a third year studying kinesiology. Her passions include coffee shop exploration, music making, reading good books, and writing to share the truth, goodness, and beauty of God and His creation.
IThere’s ink in my soul, enough to write
A great book of sins in words black as night
Jaggedly penned in lexicon dark
On virgin vellum, those cutting strokes stark
My cup runneth over with bile and lime
Spilling on sheets of divine-composed rhyme
The blood in my veins has never known red–
Just the black of decay, the black of the dead
ROB BATTON
And my sordid soul so longs for the light
Some lamp in the darkness, some fire at night
To cool my hot anger and warm my cold heart
To torch the slick shadows that tear me apart
For the great plane of dark between heaven and hell Lies too far above this infernal corpse-cell To ascend through Sheol’s ocean of India black Past the “Damned” written in the flesh of my back.
HANNAH HANFORD
During the chaos of the 2020 election, I remember telling myself “Hey, next time will be different! We’ll have new candidates, and everything will calm down.” So when I learned this year that the race would once again be between Donald Trump and Joe Biden, all I felt was dread and exhaustion, and I’m not the only one. Ninety percent of Americans say thinking about politics makes them feel exhausted, and eighty-nine percent say it makes them angry.1 With the impending 2024 election, division over politics feels unavoidable, draining, and uniquely toxic because politics has enveloped every part of our lives.
Our identity and values as Americans are more divided than any time in modern memory. While elections are often decided by economic concerns, the intense debates impacting our daily lives and culture
are rooted in disagreements over the meaning and role of gender, sexual, racial and religious identity. While there have always been varying approaches to these issues, a few decades ago the dominant culture was relatively unified. “Politics” was a negotiation between competing strategies aimed at a shared goal; it stayed more or less in the realm of policy debates you could choose to avoid. Today, politics has spread to fundamental and incompatible disagreements concerning morality and identity, and these debates have infiltrated every level of our culture, resulting in unprecedented division. Less than four percent of marriages today are between Democrats and Republicans, 2 fifteen percent of Americans have ended a friendship over politics, 3 and people are increasingly moving to parts of the country that better align with them politically, a phenomenon known as the “Big Sort.”4
Differences in moral judgment and culture may be especially jarring between Christians since we all shape our moral worldview around Christ and His word. When we come to dramatically different conclusions about what this might mean, it feels like a special kind of betrayal. In the face of all this brokenness, Christians must fight for what they believe is right for our country without failing to reflect Christ in the process. We cannot give into the temptation of our culture to abandon or ostracize others, especially other Christians. No matter how wrong we might think they are, our only choice is to love them well.
The story of how we got here is a tangled mess of lost social fabric alongside the rise of social media and extremism on both sides. On a political level, however, it is the result of two decades of powerful political leaders and parties disguising the demonization of
their opponents with pleas for unity until compromise is impossible. President Obama’s “Coalition of the Ascendant” rhetoric and strategy campaigned for historically marginal voices (and the college educated) to combine and overpower the vote of the white, male, culturally evangelical, uneducated American. The oppositional nature of this strategy succeeded in winning President Obama the 2012 election, but in its wake, those excluded from the coalition felt that their government no longer cared for them. White, rural Americans, and many evangelicals, had felt abandoned and neglected by the culture for decades, and now, the party of their president had explicitly declared them the enemy to be defeated. Disillusioned with the government, this group united to nominate Donald Trump, a wildcard political outsider who gave a voice to their frustrations, overpowering the votes of more traditional suburban Republicans.
The moral and cultural debates of today had been smoldering below the surface under President Obama, but the Trump campaign, presidency, and backlash laid these divisions bare and poured on gasoline. Cultural and moral fault lines that had been growing for decades were suddenly felt by conservatives, liberals, and moderates alike. President Trump’s absurd and often incendiary rhetoric added fuel to the fire, as did the intense blowback and condemnation by Democrats, not only of Trump, but of everyone who supported him or his policies. Trump in turn inspired increasingly fanatic devotion, while his opposition jumped on every chance to incite more and more panic. Reaching a climax in the chaos of the 2020 election, the fear and isolation of the Covid-19 pandemic, combined with increased awareness of racial disparities after the killing of George Floyd, led both parties to declare the other the moral enemy. Americans largely bought this narrative, especially in the wake of fears of election interference and January sixth. The Biden presidency has not bridged this increasingly widening chasm. In a 2022 speech, Biden asked listeners if they wanted to “be the side of Dr. King [Martin Luther King Jr.] or George Wallace [notorious supporter of Jim Crow and Segregation]… the side of Abraham Lincoln or Jefferson Davis [President of the Confederacy]?”5 The clear inference is that Biden is on the side of good and Republicans are on the side of racism and the Confederacy, America’s greatest historic evil. In his last State of the Union Address, President Biden
We cannot give into the temptation of our culture to abandon or ostracize others, especially other Christians.
did not begin by stating that the country is healthy and strong, which is the customary introduction, but instead by declaring that “Not since President Lincoln and the Civil War have freedom and democracy been under assault at home as they are today.”6 Both parties are declaring that the other will destroy the nation and democracy as we know it if they win this November, a dangerously apocalyptic and hyperbolic claim that is leading to desperation and despair, leaving no room for unity.
As the political battles of the past few decades have become more and more about identity and worldview, it has become easier and easier for politicians to convince voters that they are fighting villains. Americans have come to view political positions as a morality litmus test, and everything from where you live, how you dress, what you watch and read, what you post, where you go to church, how you raise your kids, and whether you buy Bud Light or Chickfil-A says something about your politics and moral standing. I’ve let relationships inch apart for fear of the conclusions others, including Christians, may jump to based on what I say or do, and I know others have inched away from me, harboring the same fear. Relationships can fade because of our politics whether we have actually talked about it or not. Because our
culture equates your political opposite with your immoral enemy, people no longer want to share their communities and lives with each other; separation and condemnation from afar has become the only comfortable option.
We are in the middle of a generation defining dispute over the future of our country that will endure long after this election cycle. Amidst this conflict and polarization, nearly everyone’s beliefs are genuinely well-meaning. The Democrat proponent and Republican opponent of books about trans identity or homosexuality in elementary schools are each fighting for the protection of children. Those fighting for DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion) and those fearful of CRT (Critical Race Theory) both want a country
where everyone is valued and treated with dignity. Those concerned about police brutality and those worried about fentanyl and gang violence coming across the southern border both desire justice and safety. The defenders of the unborn and those fighting for a woman’s autonomy over her body both believe they are defending sacred rights. The most terrifying part of this is that we hardly speak the same language anymore; we say we sincerely want the same thing but have an incompatible understanding of what it means.
These divisions shouldn’t pressure Christians into apathy in order to get along; we should have strong, passionate opinions about what policies are right for our country, and I do. I think that Christians should vote for policies that uphold what God says in the Bible about abortion, marriage, sex, and gender. Not only do I think God cares deeply about the laws that our nation passes on these issues, but I also believe that, as far as they align with His will, they are the most compassionate policies we can support. I care deeply about preserving religious freedom; I think freedom of speech makes us all stronger; I think parental rights protect children. I believe that caring for the economy is caring for people’s livelihoods and benefits everyone, especially those in underserved communities; I believe strongly in caring for those in need, but I don’t usually vote for expanding social programs because I think they generate more problems than solutions. This work is better left to local communities, churches, and NGOs (non-governmental organizations). I also believe the Bible teaches that good governments protect and care for their people, which is why I vote for policies that improve schools, stop crime, address the fentanyl epidemic, and provide a basic safety net for those in the greatest need. Because these are the policies that I believe best align with biblical truths and best care for and protect others, I vote Republican.
I may disagree with the choices of a Christian who votes Democrat, but I also understand they are doing so because they believe liberal policies better align with God’s love. They are heartbroken over our nation’s long history of horrible racial injustice and lament the stark disparities that remain. They believe the government has an obligation to seek justice and love mercy, so they vote for policies that provide aid to
hurting communities and work to reform the criminal justice system. They are deeply concerned with fighting hate and bigotry, especially when it shows up among those who call themselves Christians. They want to live out the biblical mandate to steward our planet well, to have compassion on the foreigner, and to care for those in need, whether through expansion in healthcare, social security, canceling college debt, or gun control. On social issues, they may feel that when the government forces people to live under restrictions they do not agree with, it ostracizes them, makes them less receptive to Christian teachings, and ultimately does more harm than good. They may feel that societal work must be done before political work, prioritizing services for mothers and the changing hearts and minds on abortion and other moral issues over legal measures. Each one of these beliefs is steeped in a desire to align policy and society with God’s heart, and they lead many Christians to vote Democrat.
Bible-believing Christians disagree not only on what party and political strategies to vote for, but also on individual candidates. Some Christians feel we should vote based on the personal morality of a candidate, and that it hurts our witness to the world when we compromise for politics. Other Christians feel that politics is an important tool for doing good in our nation that we can’t give up because it requires us to choose between two evils, and that voting for moral policies has a greater impact than voting for moral candidates. You may genuinely think my political beliefs are shortsighted, unwise, dangerous, and perhaps even enabling a societal evil. I might genuinely think the same thing about yours. It is possible, however, to hold our oppositional beliefs passionately while also working to understand the godly motives of Christians that disagree.
When Jesus prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane, his prayer for the Church was “that they may all be one.”7 This supernatural invitation into the unity of the Trinity is enough to bridge any political or cultural divide for those who put Christ first. Faithful Christians will come to different conclusions about which issues should be moral priorities, and it is good and right to challenge one another’s perspectives as we all seek God’s good will for our country. When we disagree,
unity with one another under our King means we do it with kindness, humility, and sacrificial love.
“For there is no authority except from God, and those that exist have been instituted by God.”8
Christians should not live in the apocalyptic dread common on both the right and the left. No matter the outcome of any election, we can prayerfully trust in God’s good plan for this country, allowing us to fight diligently for what we believe, but not desperately. Our culture tells us to love our allies and hate our enemies, but Christ says to “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven.”9 We have an opportunity to show those who disagree with us love when the culture has taught them to expect derision and hate. We can stand firm in our positions without sacrificing relationships with our opponents. We do not have the luxury of cutting out friends or family for political reasons. Jesus spent time with prostitutes, tax collectors, and zealots; certainly we can love our politically opposed neighbor. As a result, they could change your mind, or you could change theirs. You may end up agreeing with them, or you might see clearly that their position is wrong—even dangerously wrong, but we are called to love and bear with those Christ has placed in our lives. The divided and polarized chaos of American culture is a unique opportunity for Christians to show the love, passion, and justice of Christ to a world that does not understand it like never before.
Photography from Thomas Laughridge.
1.“Americans’ Dismal Views of the Nation’s Politics.” Pew Research Center - U.S. Politics & Policy, Pew Research Center, 19 Sept. 2023, www.pewresearch.org/politics/2023/09/19/americansdismal-views-of-the-nations-politics/#: :text=Both%20were%20conducted%20on%20 Pew,%2C%20while%2055%25%20feel%20angry.
2“Marriages between Democrats and Republicans Are Extremely Rare.” Institute for Family Studies, ifstudies.org/blog/marriages-between-democrats-and-republicans-are-extremelyrare#: :text=Most%20of%20these%20marriages%20were,the%20new%20American%20 Family%20Survey. Accessed 5 Apr. 2024.
3Lisa Bonos. “Republicans Have More Friends across the Political Divide than Democrats, Study Finds - The Washington Post.” Washington Post, 3 July 2021, www.washingtonpost.com/ lifestyle/2021/07/03/how-politics-divides-friends/.
4Nicholas Riccardi. “Conservatives move to red states and liberals move to blue as the country grows more polarized.” PBS NewsHour, 5 July 2023, https://www.pbs.org/newshour/politics/ conservatives-move-to-red-states-and-liberals-move-to-blue-as-the-country-grows-morepolarized
5Chris Cillizza. “Analysis: Did Joe Biden Go Too Far in His Voting Rights Speech? This Democratic Senator Thinks so.” CNN, 13 Jan 2022, www.cnn.com/2022/01/13/politics/bidenvoting-rights-speech-dick-durbin/index.html.
6“Transcript of President Joe Biden’s State of the Union Address.” AP News, AP News, 8 Mar. 2024, apnews.com/article/state-of-union-transcript-biden-2024e84f5134e5201987eb441629aef5240c.
7John 17: 21 (ESV).
8Romans 13:1-2 (ESV).
9Matt 5:44-45 (ESV).
This article was written in the spring of 2024 before President Biden dropped out and endorsed Kamala Harris. While much has changed about the 2024 presidential race, Vice President Harris has engaged in the same divisive rhetoric as President Biden, and Americans remain largely overwhelmed and exhausted by politics.
Hannah Hanford is a fourth year studying Politics and a resident at the Christian Study Center. She loves hiking, a good book, and a friendly debate.
The wind wrapped the leaves in the oak’s warm embrace, allowing the tree to share a final encouragement with them before the wind scattered them to the edge of the sidewalk. They spun as they joined their sisters on stage, swaying with the branches and letting the sighs of the clouds be their music. The melody carried each of the tiny dancers along, lifting their weightless bodies into the air, twirling them up towards the bright stage light beaming down on them. They made their graceful descent after an eight count, keeping their heads lifted and their eyes focused on the heavens. They bowed with a dainty little curtsy, showing off the newly adorned halos on their heads. That is, all but one.
While my sisters flew high up into the air, letting the wind fill their wings, I was still stuck to the ground, unable to lift mine out from under the weight of all the grime and dirt that had collected on them since last fall. That season, the wind had blown with extra ferocity, sweeping us from one side to the other, making me
waver in my balance and question my strength. As I prepped for my turn, I remember hearing the howling of the wind, how it gathered up speed, how it came full force towards me. Fear had coursed through my veins, sending chills down my spine, all the way from my tip to my stem. My face turned an ugly shade of brown as I began to wilt. Wrinkles covered my body as shame crept up through every crevice and twisted me from the inside out. The wind had gotten knocked into me. It did not matter how perfect my posture was, how thin or strong I was compared to all the other leaves, how pointed my tip was, how perfectly green I was, or how elegant I could make my landing—I was wrung out.
When I collapsed on that mid-autumn day, I could feel the sun blazing on my back, burning a hole into my fragile and weathered skin. Although the oak tree stood nearby, I crawled my way past the road where there was a small stream, something to cool myself off. With what little strength I had, I bent down and saw my own image: tired, broken, and weak. A fallen image. A failure.
Looking closer, I saw past the cloudiness of the water and met a pair of eyes that resembled mine: deep, desperate, and longing. Waves swelled and swarmed in those eyes, beckoning me to come in for a swim. I dived in, feeling my wings struggle against the current as I sunk deeper and deeper down.
My vision faded in and out as I felt myself being lifted out from the mud and mire at the bottom of the stream. I woke up on a grassy field under the shade of the oak tree. It was the same oak that I had fallen from, but there were no other leaves, no sidewalk, and despite the splashing of the stream’s filthy water on rugged stones, the serene silence of still waters filled my soul. I drew closer to the stream, peering down into the water in search of those eyes. However, when I was prepared to face myself, I saw only the oak tree looking back at me from the water, with its strong roots and mighty branches, standing steady and tall.
As I laid back down on that green pasture, I looked back up at the oak. He was still there, even when the wind blew, even when the rain fell, even when the sun shone. He was still there. The patterns on the bark of the oak tree seemed to dance around me, filling my mind with the beauty and intricacy of this creation, reminding me that I too was a part of this very tree, that I too was beautifully and intricately woven. That thought untied the knots that had been pulled tightly around my heart and my mind. The juice of new life coursed through my veins like I had never experienced before, and I realized that my stem had been fused to a green branch on the oak tree, that I was now being lifted into the air without feeling the weight of gravity trying to pull me down.
Gravity is a funny thing, really, because my sisters told me that gravity is what helped them to fall with such grace. To me, gravity was heavy, like buckets of sludge that were trying to bury me, like water being dumped from the top of a waterfall.
It was a free fall—a fall to death—where my spine could snap, my stem could twist, or my body could crumble. Even if my spine did stay intact, there was no doubt that I would turn an embarrassing shade of maroon under the harsh light of the stage. Even if I landed without a thud or any crack in my wing, I would still have to face the pain of knowing I hit the ground earlier than my sisters, whose stems were stickstraight, their tips elongated, their wings thin and long, making them floating feathers in the air. I felt like more of an acorn than a leaf, trying to suspend myself in the air but falling uncontrollably, making the whole world think that the sky was falling down.
That following spring, the oak wrapped His branches securely around me, squeezing me tightly every time I felt a sharp gust of wind try to come between us. With each squeeze, it felt like He was pumping life back into me, reminding me that no wind, no rain, no scorching sun, would ever be able to separate me from Him. I was enraptured by His steadiness until one day when the wind started picking up again, familiar scents of autumn filled the air, and melodious tunes found their way back to the stage, marking the start of yet another dance. As I saw my sisters following the way of the wind, my mind wandered back into the darkness of last year’s failure, of my catastrophic fall that crushed me. The steadiness that my time with the oak had provided me started to fade out of memory, allowing fear to envelop me as I crashed on stage, scrambling to follow the pirouette combination that my sisters had perfected. They leaped and rolled gently to the ground without a ruffle in their wings, while I tumbled down, leaving a sap trail to nail in the embarrassment of my fall.
of honey. The droplets kept coming down, and soon, I was covered in sap, draped in the oak’s blood and tears. He bled and wept for me, a fallen leaf, striving to find beauty apart from the beautiful oak tree. In awe, I stared into the lines and curves of the oak tree, realizing that what looked like wrinkles deepened from pain from far away were actually smile lines from welcoming His children back time after time. The oak picked me up by my stem, lifting me up in my new golden garments. He then placed a final drop of sap on my tip, adorning me with a radiant crown to remind me that even when I fall and lose my sight of Him, that He will restore me and pick me back up season after season because I am a part of Him, the faithful oak tree.
Red flushed down from my tip, and my stem quivered as I looked up at the sap trail, seeing how far I had fallen. The oak tree was standing there, unwavering with His branches outstretched, with deep wrinkles on His face. It seemed like each line and fold was a pocket of sorrow that He had been collecting over the years, pouring into His leaves only to see them fly off and never return. As a breeze encircled His trunk, it seemed as if the oak let out a sigh, one that begged for His children to come back home. Droplets fell onto
April Zheng is a second year studying Nursing. She loves hanging out with her family and friends, as well as going out for runs while listening to This Podcast Will Kill You (a podcast about diseases which she believes everyone should listen to and enjoy).
Christian congregations in America today are stained with the history of racial segregation and discrimination. The Christian Bible was once used to justify the enslavement of Black folks.1 Manifest Destiny was relied upon to justify the displacement of Indigenous peoples, claiming the land was “a promised land” for American settlers by recalling the Promised Land God gave Abraham in the Bible.2 For centuries, Christianity was abused to allow for the unjust separation and mistreatment of God’s people.
“For we were all baptized by one Spirit so as to form one body whether Jews or Gentiles, slave or free and we were all given the one Spirit to drink.”3
Churches today reflect this history. Approximately three-quarters of white Christians report that their church congregations are predominantly white.4 However, this is actually a marked increase in diversification from 2023, when only five percent of churches in America were racially integrated.5 Church leaders hope this recent trend might bridge the gap between differences, dispelling prejudice and discrimination. Efforts to integrate churches stand on the grounds that cultivating a shared space will naturally dispel a fear of difference. Corporate worship can lead to a compromise that does not mean settling but rather embracing new, shared forms of worship that might also teach us how to embrace others through our differences. After all, Paul tells us that “we were all baptized so as to form one body . . . and we were all given the one Spirit to drink,” so wouldn’t uniting under one roof propel us closer to the vision He intended for us to live out?6 In an ideal world, yes. But in the fallen world we live in today, haunted by a history of hatred and abuse, we’re forced to question if integration is ultimately the best solution.
In 1954, following the ruling of Brown v. Board of Education, efforts to integrate schools and other public spaces were conducted as a solution to segregation. These efforts, however, did not extend to churches. With their own rituals, tastes, and customs, Christian churches remained segregated spaces and continued to develop faith traditions interwoven with elements of culture such as music, language, and emotional experience. Gospel music, for example, was born out of
spirituals sung by enslaved people while they labored.7 Now, it is rooted in and central to many Black Christian traditions. These elements—founded and predicated on the racial segregation that plagues our past—are now characteristic traits of certain denominations in America; church differences born out of segregation are now integral parts of the traditions and identities of many churches.
In response to division, our knee-jerk solution is unity. Unity, however, requires integration, and integration requires compromise. It requires parting with some of these traditions born out of segregation that now lay claim to our identities. What elements of our service are we willing to sacrifice for unity? Our music? The style of our preaching? Integrating can heighten tensions in these decisions churches make on a weekly basis. In “Why many Americans prefer their Sundays segregated,” CNN Reporter John Blake found that many Black churchgoers prefer their place of worship to be a haven from racial tension with one saying, “I need a place of refuge . . . I need to come to a place on Sunday morning where I don’t experience racism.”8 While integration may force the racial conflict necessary for equality to prevail, perhaps church is not the political battleground on which to stake this fight.
Although, perhaps church is exactly the place where we need to stake this fight. Racial equality is a matter of morality, not politics. Is there a way we could modify church practices, abandoning some traditions while accommodating new ones, to reach a point where all racial groups can worship alongside each other? Theodore Brelsford, co-author of We Are the Church Together: Cultural Diversity in Congregational Life, describes what it would take for churches to productively diversify their congregation writing, “Only when ethnic groups no longer feel compelled to abandon their entire culture on Sunday morning can a church claim to be interracial.”9 Integration, therefore, must find a way to embrace the cultural collision it necessitates. It cannot dismiss a culture by way of compromise. He continues, writing that interracial churches resist “taking one dominant identity and forcing everyone to fit into it.”10 Interracial churches thus have to create a space where all feel seen and validated in their differences.
This ideal diverse, integrated church, however, is easier to imagine than to implement in the pews of real churches with real people navigating such a pressing issue. The case of Brown v. Board of Education is regarded today as a monumental solution to racism; when Linda Brown wanted to go to a school nearer to her house, the “white school,” the Supreme court ruled in her favor and pushed to desegregate schools “with all deliberate speed.”11 As desegregation was implemented, Black students needed to be escorted by the national guard to walk to school.12 Nearly half of Black teachers were fired after Brown’s case because white parents still did not want Black folks teaching their children.13 The hostile learning environment that resulted breeded tension and disruption that didn’t previously exist in segregated schools. Between Black and white students in integrated schools today, Black students disproportionately receive punishment for subjective offenses in the classroom such as disruption or defiance compared to objective offenses like tardiness.14 When the Supreme court decided to force integration on schools, they forced countless Black youth into discriminating spaces, placing obstacles in their path toward an equal education.
Similarly, attending a church where you are in the racial minority can hinder your spiritual growth. Despite the benefit diversification provides for the congregation as a whole, it is often unavoidable for minority individuals to feel disconnected from a clergy who looks different than them—a clergy who experiences
the world differently than them. People are more likely to attend a church where the clergy, traditions, people, and liturgies reflect their experience of the world. In the preface of her prayer book, Black Liturgies, Cole Arthur Riley reflects on the internal conflict she feels about Christianity’s unifying powers and the Church’s divisive nature. She illustrates the scene where she walked into an Episcopal church for the first time, questioning the cult-like behavior of congregants chanting in unison. Eventually, she fell into the rhythm of its procession, appreciating the steadiness and ease that came with it; eventually, she fell into the arms of its embrace: “Ritual, when coupled with beauty, makes for a very adequate mooring. It won’t carry you to shore, but it will keep you close enough that hope can swim out to visit you regularly.”15 Coming to church whilst bearing the crushing weight of racial oppression, Riley saw glimpses of hope in Christian liturgy, an ancient practice that spans across the lines of racial division.
Years later, in the summer of 2020, Riley sought solace once again in liturgy, but she could no longer grapple with the overwhelming prevalence of white voices embedded in its foundation. She writes,
For all its beauty, this liturgy that had given me words to pray when I had none was suffocating. Thomas Cranmer, who wrote the Book of Common Prayer at a time when my ancestors were being abducted, alienated from one another, and enslaved, would not be an anchor for me that day. He was incapable of speaking to my pain, Black grief, Black hope, in a voice I could trust. I wanted more.16
Sometimes, the Christian tradition can cross boundaries of race. Other times, it simply cannot. This does not mean that Christianity cannot cross racial boundaries, but that the traditions by which we practice and live out our faith may benefit from the division across lines of race, across differences in histories.
As some churches begin to make racial diversity in their congregations a priority, others will choose to maintain their homogeneity. Integrating churches holds the potential to facilitate equality, yet it may also create a barrier in a minority individual’s spiritual journey; it may cause them to feel unsafe or not welcome in their space of worship. Contrarily, by choosing not to diversify their congregation, churches can provide congregants with a safe space, while potentially perpetuating racial injustice by leaving the issue of racism to be fought in spaces outside the Church.
The truths of racial discrimination in the Christian church force us to acknowledge the impossibility of creating a perfect world amidst a fallen one. Between integrating and segregating the church, we are left with no perfect answer. A decision nevertheless must be made. Churches should not hold a neutral stance on the matter of the racial composition of their congregation. Refusing to form a stance cultivates a spirit of compliance that ignores the problem of our blindness to segregation. These decisions hold immense weight and have the utmost consequence on how Christians regard the reality of our racist world alongside a doctrine that seeks to uphold equality for all—“whether Jews or Gentiles, slave or free.”17 If we closely examine the consequences of both segregation and integration, we open our eyes to the racism tormenting society, and we open our minds to discover where God’s plan for unity can exist amidst our fallen world.
Benediction
“Go in freedom, with tearstained cheeks and stability of heart. Feel deeply and honestly, without being consumed. And may God hold fast to you if the tide of despair strengthens its pull, that you could grieve with the gravity you deserve. Amen.”18
–Cole Arthur Riley
1Frederick Douglass, Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, Dover Thrift Editions, 2016. 2“America’s Manifest Destiny,” Smithsonian American Art Museum, Accessed Aug. 27, 2024, https://americanexperience.si.edu/historical-eras/expansion/pair-westward-apotheosis/ 31 Corinthians 12:13 (NIV).
4“Religion and Congregations in a Time of Social and Political Upheaval,” PRRI, May 16, 2023. https://www.prri.org/research/religion-and-congregations-in-a-time-of-social-and-political-upheaval/.
5John Blake, “Why Many Americans Prefer Their Sundays Segregated,” CNN, Aug. 4, 2008, https://edition.cnn.com/2008/LIVING/wayoflife/08/04/segregated.sundays/index.html. 61 Corinthians 12:13 (NIV).
7Henry Louis Gates Jr., The Black Church: This is Our Story, This is Our Song, directed by Christopher S. Bryson, Christopher S. Bryson, and Stacey L. Holman (2021; Washington D.C.: McGee Media, Inkwell Media, and WETA, 2021), docuseries.
8John Blake, “Why Many Americans Prefer Their Sundays Segregated,” CNN, Aug. 4, 2008, https://edition.cnn.com/2008/LIVING/wayoflife/08/04/segregated.sundays/index.html.
9Charles R. Foster and Theodore Brelsford, We Are the Church Together, Trinity Pr Intl, Jan. 1, 1996, quoted in “Why Many Americans Prefer Their Sundays Segregated” 10Ibid.
11Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka, Opinion; May 17, 1954; Records of the Supreme Court of the United States; Record Group 267; National Archives.
12Abbygail Vasas, “Linda Brown and Her Lasting Legacy,” Image, The Equinox, April 4, 2018, https://kscequinox.com/2018/04/linda-brown-and-her-lasting-legacy/. 13Max Altman, “Honoring Brown v. Board of Education: A National Opportunity to Confront Today’s Challenges,” Charles F. Kettering Foundation, May 5, 2024, https://www. kettering.org/news/honoring-brown-v-board-of-education-a-national-opportunity-to-confront-todays-challenges/#:~:text=Impacts%20on%20Educator%20Workforce%20Diversity,who%20were%20employed%20in%201954.
14“Eliminating School Discipline Disparities: What We Know and Don’t Know About the Effectiveness of Alternatives to Suspension and Expulsion,” Institute of Education SciencesDepartment of Education, November 18, 2021, https://ies.ed.gov/ncee/rel/Products/Region/ midatlantic/Blog/100301#:~:text=Black%20students%20are%20more%20likely%20than%20 White%20students%20to%20receive,even%20when%20committing%20similar%20offenses.
15Cole Arthur Riley, Black Liturgies, Convergent Books, Jan. 16, 2024, p. xvi.
16Ibid.
171 Corinthians 12:13 (NIV).
18Cole Arthur Riley, “Lament,” Black Liturgies, Convergent Books, 2024, p. 94.
Peyton Rabb is a third year studying Political & Social Thought and English. She is the President of Bearings, an intern at Theological Horizons, and a member of The University Fellowship at St. Paul’s Memorial Church.
The desert groans
Under the weight of night
As the sun shrinks away
Dark settles over the land
Heavy and barren
Valley of bones
Clinging to the dust
Son of man, can these bones live?
A noise cuts through
The silent years
The rattling of bones
Shedding their dust
Bone tethers to bone
Tendons to sinews to flesh
Binding themselves together
Covering, enveloping those old bones
But there was no breath in them.
Then,
Come oh breath
Come oh life
From the four winds
Enter these bones
And the wind entered them
The breath entered them
The Spirit entered them
And they lived
Behold, I am doing a new thing . . .
Katie Mead is a fourth year studying computer science. Outside of classes, she enjoys writing poetry, leading YoungLife in the Charlottesville community, swing dancing, and being constantly entertained by her wonderful friends. Catch her on sunny days soaking up the sun on the lawn!
Selby Ireland, a fourth year Chemistry major, grew up reading and loving the poetry of Ogden Nash. One of his life goals is to spend as much time as possible sharing good conversations over hot cups of tea on cold rainy days.
Rob Batton is a second year studying English on the preComm track. He is involved with RUF, Eunoia, and Veritas Forum. In his spare time he loves getting outside and tinkering on cars.
Grace Whitaker is a recent graduate of the UVA English department, now pursuing her Master’s degree in British poetry. She is co-Editor-in-Chief of Bearings, and spends nearly all of her time reading, writing, and napping.
If you are an undergraduate student interested in writing, designing, editing, or managing social media, we would love to have you on our team. We are always looking for new members who are passionate about integrating faith and culture on Grounds.
If you are an undergraduate student at the University of Virginia, we eagerly invite you to submit your work. We accept a variety of written work and visual art.
To learn more, email bearingsuva@gmail.com. To submit work, visit bearingsuva.org/submissions.
Your donation allows us to distribute our journal to the University of Virginia as well as the greater Charlottesville area to foster dialogue on Christianity in an academic setting.
To donate, visit www.bearingsuva.org/donate.
Thank you to the Center for Christian Study at the University of Virginia for their continued support.
We also extend our gratitude to the UVA Parents Program and various community contributors who made the production of this issue possible.
Lastly, we would like to thank our mentor, Fitz Green, for his guidance and encouragement.
Bearings is a member of the Augustine Collective, a coalition of student-run journals at university campuses across the nation.
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