Spring '24 | Cycles

agora SPRING 2024 | VOL. 1 NO. 2

JOURNAL OF CHRISTIAN THOUGHT AT GEORGIA TECH

AGORA Agora seeks to glorify God as an ecumenical forum and journal of Christian thought. By creating and curating pieces that reflect the vibrant beauty of God’s nature, we offer a collective Christian perspective to the campus dialogue.

Agora gratefully recognizes the support and guidance from the Augustine Collective, a network of student-lead, Christian thought journals on university campuses across the US and the UK.

See our full digital publication and blog content at WWW.GTAGORA.COM GT.AGORA

Cover photo: Eddy Chiao

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Coda Stairs: Chris Moon

What a blessing it is to bring you this second issue of Agora! I thank God that you’re here, however it is that you’ve happened upon this journal. And whether He is a stranger or an old friend, just know that He sits beside you as you flip through this issue on Cycles.

We all experience this world in a certain rhythm, as a life of constant novelty and unpredictability would be impossible to comprehend. So our lives are benchmarked by these patterns, which characterize the natural ebb and flow of the human experience: daily habits, transformation, the swell of seasons, in nature and in life. It follows that God speaks through these cycles as He shapes us, grows us, and brings us back to Him. This semester, our writers reflected on this theme and now offer you their take on Cycles, in hurt or condemnation, in relationships, in iterations of sin, repentance, and restoration. This writing process, though arduous, was a revelation of God’s provision and a gift of fellowship, and I hope its fruit is as much a blessing to you as it was to us.

And so, dear Reader, I invite you to take a breath, dwell here, and find nourishment in these reflections, knowing He is here with you.

Happy reading, until we meet face to face.

Yours in Christ,

Olivia Hu

SPRING ’24 / ii

EXECUTIVE BOARD

OLIVIA HU Editor-in-chief & Web Team Lead

C HR IS MOON Communications Chair

RA P H C H E N G Managing Editor

C H RI S T I N A C A I Social Media Chair

CONTRIBUTORS

A LLISON CHU NG

C A T HE R INE T IA N

EDDY CHIAO

E L L I E KI M

ELLIOTT CH E N

E ST HE R SHE N

ETHAN NG

HELEN ZHU

J OSH U A P A R K

L OIS L E E

S H I RL E Y L I N

S I M O N RUI Z

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OUR STAF

TABLE OF

CONTENTS IF G R AC E IS AN OC EAN ES T H ER S H EN

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ADAC TYLIDIU M CAT H ER INE T IAN

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J OU R N EY OF THE BR OK EN J OS H UA PAR K

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S LAYIN G OU R OBOR OS EL L IOT T C H EN

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FOR A DAIS Y TO BLOOM , HE IS THE S OU R C E S H IR L EY L IN

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HEY G OD, C AN I G ET A G IR LFR IEN D? R APH C H ENG

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S AN C TIFIC ATION , AN D WHY I

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DON ’T LIK E THE DIS HWAS HER C H R IS MO ON WITHOU T YOU ...

S IMON RUIZ

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SPRING ’24 / iv

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I M A G E S | C H RI S M OON

SPRING ’24 / vi

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WORDS, IMA GE | E ST HE R SHE N

The ocean is within grasp. I can almost feel the waves caressing my fingertips as I crawl ever so slowly, ever so desperately toward the water. I have no strength to stand. My whole body aches. My vision is hazy, my head spinning, heart pound, pound, pounding to no steady rhythm.

perate heart yearns for a sense of security that staying here simply would not grant me. Without waiting another minute, I dive into the water and swim blindly in some ambiguous forward direction, not daring to open my eyes for fear of the stinging salt. My hands reach and reach and reach, for solid ground but really just for my sanity. Left, right, left, right. Stroke after uneven stroke. Hoping against hope that my striving will find me a new home.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

Suddenly—

Futile as a stranded turtle, I struggle toward the sea like my life depends on it. Except…my life really does depend on it. My chest, pressed painfully against the coarse sand, hoarsely screams for a sip of refreshing relief. The dirt smothering my face as it clouds the air in my frantic hustle isn’t helping at all.

A wave crashes over me. I’m caught off guard and tumble in its wake. Instinctively, I open my eyes to gain my bearings then immediately squeeze them shut, but not before the harsh bite of saltwater permeates my pupils. I thrash around in an extremely barbaric fashion, searching hysterically for breath, a million panicked thoughts scribbling heaping chaos onto the canvas of my brain each second. No one is around to save me, my cries echoing at a different frequency than any other. I hear alarm bells. Thumping.

Tick. Tock. The scribbles suffocate my mind as the water suffocates my lungs and all the noises start blending together in a horrific symphony. Where’s the surface? Where, where, where…

Just a little further.

Almost there…

With one final heave costing the measly remainder of my energy, I plunge my face into the rushing waters and inhale a deep mouthful.

With every gulp, I thirst for more. I keep drinking. It tastes awfully salty but I don’t care. What other option do I have?

I pause, lifting my dripping face to catch a glimpse of the sun making its daily pilgrimage below the horizon. How dazzling! …Is what I would think if I were not at my wit’s end. I sigh and stare longingly where the sky meets the sea, pondering the mystery it holds.

I have reached the shore after wandering through the desert, but it isn’t quite the oasis I had hoped for. There is no trace of life besides my own wretched frame, and though there is water, it cannot sustain me.

Slumping down in dissatisfaction, I am suddenly overtaken by a flaring thought: I wanna get out of here. Though venturing through the ocean may hold many unknowns, I have already hit rock bottom and have nothing to lose. A small whisper in my head tells me I should rest before embarking on another journey, but my des-

I kick furiously and my head finally bursts through to the open night air. A massive gasp explodes from my gaping mouth, sputtering helplessly but grateful for the sweet taste of oxygen. With my eyes finally safe to open, I look around excitedly and feel a wave of disappointment surge through me—rather than in view of a new shore, I am right back where I started. You’ve got to be kidding. Refusing to accept defeat, I pounce back into the water as it crawls up the beach, determination coursing through my veins.

Before I know it, the wave brings me back. I didn’t try hard enough.

Go again.

Washed back to shore. I’m too weak. Do it again.

A failure. Again.

SPRING ’24 / 2

Insufficient. Rinse. Abandoned. And. Despised.

Repeat.

Again.

And again.

And again and again and again.

I am drained of everything but my flaming desire to escape. I wonder how the water hasn’t put it out yet. Just one more time, I say to myself.

One more time, I thrust my body forward.

One more time, I endure the stinging salt and the even greater sting of my self-effacing mentality. I kick and pull harder than ever before, subconsciously bracing for the wave that is to come.

Right on cue, it slams into my face. It’s a pointless chase. I am in no condition to fight the waves, which cruelly hurl me back to square one against my will, time after time.

I wonder: if I am doomed to be stuck here, is it worth enduring at all? I let my limbs drift down to my side. I feel my limp body sinking into the depths, and for the first time in forever, I don’t try to fight. For the first time, I feel a strange sense of peace.

Through the darkness, a tender voice calls out to me: “Open your eyes.” Perplexed, I hesitantly comply. Behold, a most beautiful sight meets my gaze—in the waters above me, a display of graceful lights transform the murky sea into a stage for glowing dancers, twinkling with indescribable gentleness. It pierces and shines through the chaos swimming in my mind. I am so mesmerized that I almost don’t realize my eyes are now comfortably open underwater, unaffected by the salt I was once so afraid of. And miraculously, I am no longer suffocating from lack of air, but my lungs are filled with vigorous breath anew. It’s like the moment I let go of control, I became free.

“Come to me, my child,” the same voice calls out again. Then it hits me. The source of light, the peace that surpasses understanding, the breath of life—this voice, it comes from my Father. The Father I neglected in favor of my own pursuits.

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I can’t see where His voice is coming from, but somehow I know exactly where to go.

The balletic lights guide me back to shore, and time stands still as I pass through the waters in tranquility. I can’t believe these were the same waters I was battling for my life against just moments earlier.

Upon reaching the shore, my head bobs out of the water to witness the sun stretching out its rays in a serene yawn, sending streaks of pink, orange, and gold across the vast expanse of the sky. The shiny wetness of the sand extends far and wide, mirroring the extravagant illustration up above. As I kneel in awe, calm waves still lapping at my feet, the beauty of creation takes my breath away, and the world seems to hold its breath with me.

Finally, I dare to take a breath, a timid inhale and exhale that whispers His name: “Yahweh.” I turn my eyes to rest upon the silhouette of my beloved Father, standing on the drier regions of sand farther upshore.

He smiles warmly, eyes sparkling infinitely brighter than the lights I saw underwater.

He opens His arms in invitation. I don’t need to be asked twice—I run toward Him as fast as my weary legs will take me, soaring across the beach but my soul soaring faster, tears flowing and left behind in the wind.

Tumbling into His arms, I let out a sigh of relief. He tightens His embrace. Although I am soaked through and plastered with innumerable grains of sand, He does not pull away in repulsion. A strange sensation of lightness overwhelms me as all my burdens are lifted, even those hidden to myself.

Taken aback, I look up and He says softly, “Now doesn’t that feel better?” I nod and feel my face contort uncontrollably as a sob rises from deep within my throat. My words choke before they have the chance to be said. I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for chasing after my own desires. I’m sorry for being caught up in myself. I’m sorry for corrupting Your love with my judgment. I’m sorry for seeking treasures that can never satisfy.

I’m sorry for forgetting only You can satisfy.

Amidst the waterfalls blinding my vision, I see my Father saying something. “I know. And I love you all the same.”

The tears rain heavier, if that’s even possible.

All this time I was thirsting for things of this world, but the more I drank up that sea, the more I grew thirsty. All this time I was trying to swim elsewhere to satisfy my needs, thinking I knew best, but my gracious Father never let me go and kept sending waves to bring me back. All this time I thought the beach was a barren land, but He was there all along, better than any oasis I could stumble upon, overflowing with living water that will never run dry. Despite my persistent disobedience, He persistently pursued me. How steadfast He is, more than the sun we know will rise each day, more than the waves with their constant push and pull.

God, why do You love me? I don’t deserve a single ounce of Your love, yet You lavish it freely. Because that’s simply who You are, loving simply who I am. Though I am but a vase marred by cracks that will continue breaking under the weight of my own sin, You will never stop piecing me back together, over and over again. My broken spirit that I despise so much, oh God, You never will. Somehow, You call me worthy to receive Your unending streams of mercy, replenishing my empty soul; worthy to stand here today even with all my failures, redeemed by the blood of Your only Son. How wonderful it is to be fully known and loved by You! Your goodness is sweeter than anything I’ve ever tasted, even the fresh air after escaping the clutches of the sea. With You, even when the waves crash over me, I am safer than I have ever been.

I M A G E | C H RI S M O O N

I look up again at the rising sun. It’s a new morning to enjoy His mercies, to be satisfied with His love.

I burrow deeper into His warm embrace.

I’m home.

SPRING ’24 / 4

W O RD S | C A T H E RI N E T I A N

By faith we understand that the universe was formed at God’s command, so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible.

Hebrews 11:13 Science does not contradict God. Rather, it explains the ways that God has created the universe.

I often find that the more I learn about science— the ways that two molecules collide to form a new one, or the way acceleration due to gravity remains at 9.8m/s2 on Earth—the more revealing it is of just how much greater God is compared to our human existence. The intricate structures that keep the very fabric of our reality bound together become increasingly apparent as I acquire more knowledge about our universe. It is incomprehensible and could only have been breathed into existence by our all-powerful God. One of the most obvious—and perhaps cliché— examples of God’s power is the “miracle of life.”

Adactylidium is a genus of mites in the kingdom Animalia and family Acarophenacidae. These mites are typical residents of the Middle East and feast on the eggs of an insect called a thrip. Yet what sets these tiny creatures of the Earth apart from other insects is their unique—and quite honestly disturbing—life cycle where these mites take the meaning of “the miracle of life” to a whole new level.

From birth, the female Adactylidium begins to find a new thrip egg to feed on as it prepares itself to become a mother. Yet the male mite barely sees the light of day and dies shortly after birth. It does not mate, it does not feed; it simply waits for its imminent death. For years, scientists couldn’t figure out why these male mites exhibited such a strange life cycle. After all, a creature born with its only purpose being death seemed like a rather depressing and futile existence.

Eventually, the truth behind this uncommon reproductive strategy was revealed. A female Adactylidium mite is born with fertilized eggs already

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inside of her. She carries what will become several female mites and one single male mite. In a few days, these eggs will hatch inside of her, giving rise to the next generation of crawling mites ready to repeat the process again. The male then mates with every single one of his sisters in a twisted method of fetal incest before they collectively decide to eat their way out of the mother’s womb.1,2 I guess in that sense, Adactylidium mothers win the parental sacrifice award.

only ever heard in the sermons. For the first time in my life, I felt like God had blessed me with what my heart longed for the most: intimacy, genuine connection, and the love of those who would walk with me, hand in hand, down the narrow road.

But time proved to be a test

While the process itself is no doubt mindboggling (because what part of fetal incest isn’t), I found myself strangely sympathetic to the seemingly devastating life of a male Adactylidium mite: one where you are doomed to die with your end written before you are even born. It struck a chord in me that I didn’t expect to feel from a creature I would have only deemed disgusting. And yet, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss in my soul.

For afore the harvest, when the bud is perfect, and the sour grape is ripening in the flower, he shall both cut off the sprigs with pruning hooks, and take away and cut down the branches.

Isaiah 18:5 Like millions of students around the world, I began my first semester of college in August of 2023. Certain that I would face trials but unsure of what those trials would actually be, I was thrust into the world of independence with nothing but encouragement and cliches from upperclassmen to guide me through a forest of unknowns.

I came into the Fall semester with friendships that I thoutght were not bound by time or distance. The 775 miles between us were no matter with the blessings of FaceTime and blind optimism. Summer of 2023 gave me the chance to see brothers and sisters in Christ who exemplified the love He calls us to demonstrate in ways I had

that we would not pass.

As August turned into September and Fall turned into Winter, the grasp with which I held onto these relationships began to slip through my fingertips. I felt the distance between us grow more and more with each call, each conversation. Desperate for the feeling

of comfort I had just months prior, I did everything I could in an attempt to fix what was so clearly falling apart right before me. I was swimming against a current too strong to overcome.

Slowly, then all at once, I felt a loss like I had never felt before as I watched those I loved drift further and further away. It felt deep, gut-wrenching.

But most of all, it felt wasteful.

For countless months, I asked God why He took away something that I thought was so right. Why did You take away something that glorifies You? Is that not what You want? He had finally given me the relationships that He spoke of in His word. The kind that is edifying, uplifting, spiritually nourishing. He had given me a taste of what could be but then so cruelly stripped me of it.

The Lord is the portion of mine inheritance and of my cup; thou maintainest my lot.

Psalm 16:5 As I sit at my desk writing this piece, I can feel the strings that once connected me to my high school friends, my teammates, my chosen family, slowly wither away. I used to think that “chosen family” included the people that I chose to be in my life, that late-night ramen and trauma bonding over the hellish depths of AP French was enough to make a friendship last forever. Now I’m not so sure.

What I once thought was an unbreakable rope has now revealed itself to be nothing more than a thread. Destined to snap at some point where we will then finally drift apart, the thread will be lost in the wind while I am left with only the memories we once had the honor of sharing. And even those too will one day fade away as I return to the soil that gave me and the Adactylidium mites the life we lived.

When I look in my hands and see the fragments of these relationships I desperately still cling to, I realize just how little I am able to grasp and incomparably, how much God is able to create with just His breath. My line of vision is only limited to the sum of all my gains and losses of my past, but He sees more. And in that knowledge, I rest assured of His goodness, His righteousness, and His peace as I hand Him these broken strings and my brokenness to create something far greater than I could ever have imagined. Because in this very moment where I am existing, I have yet to lose all the people I will in this lifetime. But I have also yet to meet all the people who will not leave: the ones who will eventually stay by my side in the race toward eternal life with our Father in Heaven.

Why should He take that away, abandon me with nothing but what I had before and a new ache in my soul that longed to be filled once again?

And He spoke to me clearly: Through this, you can see me.

I L L US TRA TION | OLIV IA HU

Verily, verily, I say unto you, except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.

John 12:24

So maybe chosen family refers to the family that God has chosen for us. I see that God places certain people in my life at a moment in time with a specific purpose: a purpose that will one day be fulfilled, its end written before I even know it has begun. Once complete, they are no longer meant to be in this chapter of your journey, nor you in theirs.

Perhaps losing is gaining in the eyes of God, a vision of the things we cannot see and quite frankly, do not need to. After all, Jesus Himself lived to die for our sake so that we may reunite with Him in heaven one day, and even his closest disciples could not fathom the sacrifice He was destined to make. In Matthew 16:21-23, Peter confronts Jesus after Jesus foretells His coming death to His disciples and claims that He must suffer for the sake of man and die on the cross. But Jesus rebukes Peter, reminding him of his place and his inability to set his eyes on the things of God and not of this world.

I’ve seen the ways that His path for me far outcompetes any semblance of a plan or desire that I could ever conceivably have or create. Since He holds the pen that writes my story, I, the character, can find freedom in surrender. My story may be filled with hills and valleys and inconsistent terrain but my inconsistency reminds me that He is my sole source of constancy in a life ever shifting. The rock on which I stand, the Father I run to with open arms each time I lose a friend. My unknown is not His unknown: it is His work.

So, is it possible that these incestuous creatures hold more meaning than we would ever think to give them credit for? Can it be that the life of the Adactylidium reminds us of a purpose through the pain? I believe so. If God has truly created and articulated everything down to the way these mites continue to crawl the earth, how secure I can be knowing that the story He has planned for me and the stories He will write for those that coincide with mine is beautifully and wonderfully made.

Perhaps this is where I can find peace, knowing that the beauty of our paths crossing is just that: crossing and then continuing on without each other just as we existed before. Left with only the whispers and footprints that they have left behind, we carry on with God to guide us ahead.

And that is enough.

1 Tessa Marshall (writer), Edie Bush (graphics). “Worse than Oedipus.” Farrago Magazine.

2 E. A. Elbadry, M. S. F. Tawfik, Life Cycle of the Mite Adactylidium sp. (Acarina: Pyemotidae), a Predator of Thrips Eggs in the United Arab Republic, Annals of the Entomological Society of America, Volume 59, Issue 3, 1 May 1966, Pages 458–461.

SPRING ’24 / 6

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V E RS E , I LLU S T RAT I ON J O S H UA PARK

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“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18 In the depths of night, where shadows dance,

Never feeling good enough, never worthy of love,

There dwells a girl in a recurring trance.

My heart burdened by shadows from below,

A soul named Aria, with scars so wide,

Despite all this, in the depths of my despair,

Navigating life’s relentless tide.

I still kneel to pray, for faith always finds its way”

In cycles of hurt and condemnation’s sting,

Trapped by the allure of solitude within,

She wanders lost, a broken thing.

Aria succumbs to the lonely din.

Her heart aches with each passing day,

But in Christ, she finds a glimmer of grace,

Caught in the rhythm of life’s disarray.

A chance to escape from the darkest place.

Through relationships that ebb and flow,

A journey of redemption, not walked alone,

Aria seeks solace, no longer to be alone.

In the depths of desolation, Christ’s light has shown.

Yet in the silence, she finds despair,

Revealed that God’s love and companions brings her light.

As cycles of pain ensnare.

With their support, she finds courage to rise.

“In the labyrinth of my soul, I roam,

With each step forward, she leans on His Word,

Haunted by shadows and echoes of old homes.

Finding solace and strength in the truth she’s heard.

With trembling hands a heart laid bare,

Delivered from emptiness, she finds peace in His Grace,

Surrendering all my brokenness to God’s care.

A new creation in Christ, she embraces her place

The weight of expectations, a heavy chain,

Close to the brokenhearted, the Lord’s embrace,

Binding my spirit, causing me pain.

In Aria’s journey, Her identity finds its place.

For in the darkness, doubt’s whispers grow,

For those crushed in spirit, He offers his hand,

Slowly cornered by loneliness’ relenting tow.

Guiding Aria to a brighter land.

In cries for help, masked in disguise,

In the ebb and flow of human strife,

Afraid to be seen as attention’s prize.

She learns the beauty of God’s calling to life.

Beneath the facade, my pain remains,

For in each dawn, a chance to start,

Hidden behind a mask, silent refrains.

To mend the cycles of a broken heart.

S P R I N G’24 ‘24 // 88 SPRING

WOR DS | ELLIOTT CHE N

“Why does God allow so much evil?” Is one of the most common doubts preventing people from putting their full trust in the Christian God. For the believer, this might be formulated as, “why do I keep on sinning?” For a non-believer perhaps, “why does God let evil continue to exist?” Underpinning these questions is a yearning to be rid of the cycle of evil, to be free of the pain and suffering.

In a hyper-rationalistic Western society, people, especially in universities, look to science or personal anecdotes for answers, venerating the language of numbers and subjective truth. However, science, a philosophy unto itself, cannot produce answers to existential questions beyond empty nihilism and cynicism. The scientific method by itself cannot be used to prove that ideas or objects themselves have genuine intrinsic meaning or value; no amount of linear regression or evolutionary theory can give a non-material meaning to human life. More broadly speaking, cold rationalism does not address the emotional aspect to evil, and is also not the only aspect of belief or faith that God desires. Neither is the born again experience1 or general, feel-good anecdote of victory over sin enough to truly vanquish evil, because feelings alone are not sufficient to impart objective truth.

What is evil to one person is good and proper in another person’s eyes. To base our response to evil in feelings thus invites disaster, because emotions are fleeting. People have explored both logical and experiential approaches to dealing with evil, so I hope to introduce another method of reasoning via the paradigm of symbolism, which blends together the strengths of both approaches. By representing the cycles of evil as an Ouroboros, a ser-

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pent biting its own tail, we can better understand the war God wages against evil, and our amidst spiritual warfare.

Know Thy Enemy…

The Ouroboros is historically known to represent immortality or eternity. As it devours its tail, it forms a loop and becomes self-reliant, needing to only eat its own tail to continue existing. More plainly, the result is self-generated; once it begins it provides impetus to repeat itself. In this sense the Ouroboros illustrates the rhythm of human history. We can firstly see this with the wars, genocides, and rapes that echo throughout history and continue through the modern age. We can also see this through the cyclical advent and demise of societies and dynasties. Niccolo Machiavelli and many others in observing the fluctuations of societies notes that in essence, “good people create good times, good times create weak people, weak people create bad times, and bad times create good people.” Ecclesiastes 1:9 sums this up: “What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.”

Before we can cast the Ouroboros as a representation of evil, we need to understand what “evil” is. In Christianity, sin is analogous to evil, and the Greek word for sin, “Hamartia,” means “to miss the mark” or “to err.” The Augustinian Theodicy2 however provides a fuller application of this definition, which states that evil is a corruption of good. This definition proves to be more complete, as it universally applies to any conceivable evil act. As stated concisely by Inspiring Philosophy, “evil is an attempt to obtain power, pleasure, or safety…things which are not inherently evil. Evil

cannot be evil for the sake of being evil. One can only be evil for the sake of obtaining what is already good.” Take for example, the application of the scientific method in medical research. One can easily find a litany of examples where doctors and governments conducted dangerous and often lethal experiments on uninformed participants to obtain medical knowledge. Neither the scientific method nor medical knowledge are intrinsically evil, but their application and pursuit was twisted so that they became evil. Thus, whenever something is “in its proper place,” that object becomes good. In short, morality is contextual. …Know Thyself With that information, one could soundly conclude that to fight the Ouroboros, they just need to purge whatever it has devoured and corrupted. But that is to miss the entire point. If we are a part of human history, then we are already in the belly of the beast. The genocides and various atrocities were not the sole responsibility of great evil men who needed to be defeated, but also that of ordinary people — that is, you and me. In an attempt to study the psychology of genocide, Stanley Milgram3 conducted perhaps one of the most damning studies on human nature; we follow orders, even those that directly conflict with their moral conscience. Deep within every person is the yawning abyss of Hell. In fact, all of history’s great tragedies were the result of this very hell woven into our nature.

Just as we fight the enemy without, we must be wary of the enemy within. As Nietzche says, “whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster.” Jesus

the most straightforward example of the Ouroboros within us; as one becomes more addicted to something, it becomes more and more impossible to cut it out of your life. “As a dog returns to its vomit, so a fool repeats his foolishness” (Proverbs 26:11). This is not limited to drug or media addictions, but rather an entire metaphor for sin itself.

Put another way, as a disease begets itself, so sin begets sin, needing only to feed off itself to grow.

“There is a path before each person that seems right, but it ends in death” (Proverbs 16:25). The Ouroboros then, is the craftiest monster of all: it is simultaneously a roaring Leviathan and a silent cancer, corrupting everything it devours.

taught that “Your eye is like a lamp that provides light for your body. When your eye is healthy, your whole body is filled with light. But when your eye is unhealthy, your whole body is filled with darkness. And if the light you think you have is actually darkness, how deep that darkness is!”

(Matthew 6:22-23). For many people, addiction is

Crushing the Head of the Serpent So then, how can we slay the Ouroboros? Our initial urge might be to slash its body, to punish evil deeds as they happen, as God does in the first part of Genesis. When Adam and Eve ate of the fruit of the knowledge4 of good and evil, He banished them from the garden. When Noah’s generation became perverted and violent, God flooded the Earth so that the corruption might be cleansed from Earth. But humanity continued to sin.

We might reasonably conclude, then, that sin persisted because Noah didn’t educate his offspring.

So God gave Moses the law, teaching the Israelites what they could and couldn’t do. This method was incomplete, because many failed to even obey the law while others ignored the spirit of the law — but it paved the way for the solution. God offers His son Jesus Christ to be devoured by the Ouroboros, by having Him die a criminal’s death despite His innocence. Because Jesus was sinless, He starved the Ouroboros from within, providing no evil the Ouroboros could use to regenerate itself.

Then, through His resurrection, Jesus symbolically emerges from the Ouroboros and removes its tail from its mouth, breaking the cycle and proving victorious over death. The poisonous serpent struck the heel of the Son of Man, and He crushed the head of the serpent. In this process, God does a “double inversion,” inverting that which is corrupted and restoring it, using evil to accomplish a greater good.

Our solution then, is to build the foundation of our life, with all of its desires and purposes, on God. Instead of relying only on ourselves for life and meaning, we turn to God to redeem us from the belly of the Ouroboros, to fulfill the context for which we were designed, which is worship of the Ultimate Good. When our spiritual food is our own tail, whether that is living life only for ourselves or relying only on our own power and intellect, we invariably turn up empty, because we are limited. But when we eat the spiritual bread of Jesus Christ by trusting and worshiping Him, and seeking to walk in His ways, we partake of the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, robbing the Ouroboros of its meal.

For the glory of the Lord then, let us arm ourselves with His Word and protect ourselves with the grace He purchased with His blood, and go slay the Ouroboros!

1 The born again experience refers to a significant turning point going from a life of sin to “being born again” into a Christian 2 A Theodicy is a philosophical argument providing a defense against the problem of evil, trying to resolve the apparent contradiction between an all-good, all-powerful, and all-knowing God and the existence of evil.

3 The Stanley Milgram experiment had participants acting the role of a teacher, who asked questions to a “learner,” a paid actor, and were told to deliver shocks whenever the learner gave a wrong answer. The fake shocks would increase in voltage for every wrong answer and the experiment would end either when the participant wished to stop the experiment four times or when the lethal voltage was delivered three times.

4 The fruit of the knowledge of good and evil refers not to logical knowledge, but experiential knowledge. The fruit in and of itself is not necessarily evil.

I L L US TRA TION | A LLISON C HU NG

SPRING ’24 / 10

VERSE, IMA GE | SHIR L E Y L IN

A flower that is fragile.

Trust.

But I’m scared.

My knees have buckled under the weight that seems to pile on, as it increases more and more. Seemingly unending. I look out towards what is in front, but it appears that I have lost my ground. Being knocked down once again, it has become harder to stand. Except this time, the heaviness that I feel from the weight has come down on me, for it’s become difficult to breathe.

My soul has grown weary.

Trust in me.

I hear, but the sound of fear becomes louder.

A worry that began as a seed has taken root. My soul has become restless.

For God, I know that all things not from You will be uprooted, but this man-made fear has come to cloud my eyes and shield my heart from You.

A flower that is drying out.

Like an overgrown weed stretching its roots and taking the nutrients that were meant to sustain me, fear has trapped me in a loop that seems to have no end as it goes round and round again.

Another day now becomes another cycle of restlessness, of which this worry seems to be sucking my life from the inside out over and over again.

Repeatedly.

Tirelessly.

I am left with nothing.

11 / AGORA

A flower that is dying.

A flower that has faith.

For it overwhelms me when weakness has tipped me over.

I make a prayer that is unceasing.

Pulling me down to a bottom that seems to have no end.

Unceasing because even if everything else in this world is

Sinking deep with arms outstretched, it has become hard

left in ruins, He is constant.

to pull myself back up. I cannot by my own strength.

Constant in a cycle, it goes on and on.

How do I move?

I see Him all the more working in this life of mine, with a heart that has been washed, and a soul that is renewed

A flower that is withered.

in Spirit.

I shall not be afraid, for what more could this world de-

On good days, I have found a peace that comforts my soul,

stroy? For He is constant in His character, compassionate

but on the bad days I am left curled in a ball. For the angst

at heart, and faithful beyond time. The warmth of His em-

in my heart has weaved its way back and is rooting itself

brace encircles me in an unending loop. I am not afraid,

into the crevices of the pieces of my heart. It grows in the

because my God brings joy to a day’s toils.

broken parts, beyond a repair that I could do on my own.

So I trust.

Help me God, for I am weak.

What does fear amount to when trust has won over it all?

A victory that is ever so present through the surrendering

A flower under His covering; a daisy.

of my will. I no longer fear, for the battles that are fought have already been decided.

I cry, and He hears. Thoughts unspoken, yet still known.

He shields and protects me, for my thoughts have been

A flower that is small.

contained. His presence calms me as it draws me in like a refuge.

A daisy, because of its simplicity, for it grows in the fields

Abundant because He is the source.

and meadows.

Shackles that had imprisoned me, debilitated.

Yet a creation that not even Solomon dressed in all his glo-

Broken to pieces, so I may be made new.

ry could compare against.

I feel light as the heaviness subsides, for He is the Lord

A daisy blossoms under His light, for He offers a love that

over my heart.

does not let go.

It is in this cycle, where I am healed, born, and renewed.

I am small and simple: a daisy.

Life that had been closed at the bleakness of night, begins

He cared, cares, and will care for me like no other.

to bloom when morning rises. For I have found joy that

In God I trust.

encircles me with warm hands. It does not fade.

His covering is safe and it is in His arms where I am met with everlasting grace and boundless mercy.

SPRING ’24 / 12

W O RD S | RA P H CHENG

Dear God, Thank you for this day that you have made. Thank you for the ways in which you have worked and continue to work in my life. I pray that your Spirit can move in me and transform me to be more like Christ. At this time Lord, I just pray for this one request…

God, pleeeease help me find a girlfriend. Yet-not-my-will-butyours-be-done.

Amen.

Look, I’ll be honest. This is something I’ve prayed for… more than once. Actually, more than I’m willing to admit. Call me foolish or desperate or whatever, but I’ll still be huffing that Mark 11:24 hopium in between every breath of prayer. And I wouldn’t be surprised if the majority of people, at least once, have done the same. I mean, it’s natural. We pray for what we desire. I’m at the point in my life where I’ve almost got my master’s degree, I have a job lined up, a good church community and friend group… There’s only one thing missing, so that’s what I pray for.

For all the sad, lonely people who are already regretting their decision to read this piece, don’t worry. I won’t be flaming the desire to be in a relationship. Then I’d just be flaming myself—not cool. Instead, I want to talk about what it means to desire, and where this comes from: to desire in general, not for anything in particular. But in order to do that, I’m going to start from a really long time ago. Like, 2004.

Enter three-year-old me: already a little walking menace to society. My dad is finishing up his PhD in physical therapy and my mom just gave birth to my sister, so they already have their hands full of responsibili-

13 / AGORA AG O R A

ties. I don’t personally remember what I was like back then, but I know from both my parents that I was—as the kids these days would say—a certified yapper. Like most children, what I desired most was attention: the attention of my parents, or the aunties and uncles at church, or strangers in the grocery store.

Obviously, I was too young to pray for that, but I think if I’d been able to back then, I would have.

Skip another three years, and now I’m in elementary school—first grade. Our family had just moved, which meant I was switching schools. As a new student at Indian Trace (okay but why is that name kind of insensitive?), I really only had one desire: friends.

I remember this was what I would pray for at night before bed, earnestly asking God for friends so I wouldn’t become some edgy emo kid.

Fast forward to me as an edgy emo kid in middle school—but don’t worry, it’s just a phase. Growing up in a typical Asian household, the importance of grades and academic excellence were drilled into me from a young age—so you can guess what I started to pray for then. I think you can see where this is going now.

I M A G E | S T EPHEN NOH

In high school, I prayed for my robotics team to do well. I prayed for my class rank. I prayed for college acceptances. In college, I prayed for interviews, then internship offers, then full-time jobs.

And now we’re all caught up.

In every season of my life I had some prayer, some desire that I raised to God. They started out small— attention, grades—and gradually became larger as I got older and asked for career opportunities, a job, and now—well, you read the title. The thing is, everything that I wanted was for myself: my grades, my job, my relationship. It’s not like they’re bad things to pray for—I mean, God says to be fruitful and multiply, right?—but I think there is a danger in this cycle of pursuit.

Now I’m not writing this to tell people not to pray for things. I joked about Mark 11, but it’s not the only verse that talks about God answering prayers—look at Philippians 4:6, or Romans 8:26, Ephesians 6:18… there’s a lot. We’re supposed to lift our requests up to God, and He does say He will provide—not always in the ways that we want, but in the way that He decides. So by all means, pray for what it is that you want, as long as it’s not something illegal like drugs, or the book of Judas.

It’s perfectly fine to pray for things. But why do I never seem to have enough? Why is it that as soon as God answers my prayer, I move on to the next thing on the list? Once I got into college, I prayed for an internship. Once I got internships, I prayed for a job. And now that I have a job, I’m once again praying for the next item on my checklist, so to speak. Is this cycle going to keep on repeating until I die? Will I pray for a wife, a new car, a kid, a house, a kid, another kid, on and on forever?

Well, the TLDR is, yes. Yes I will. But it’s a bit more nuanced than that.

I think the danger I see for myself is when my desires become the reason for my prayers, and the reason for my thankfulness to God. When I pray because I’m requesting something from God, and not because I want to talk to God, He stops being God and starts becoming a genie—and that’s not the relationship we’re supposed to build with Him. I start to pray, not for God, but for myself. It seems like the best way to overcome this is to just never desire anything then, right?

The problem is, I’m human. I’m also not Buddhist,

so that whole detachment from desires thing? Yeah, I’m good. I will naturally look towards the next goal, the next milestone in life that I’m reaching for. Is that unhealthy? I don’t think desiring what is to come is unhealthy, but maybe that continual pursuit, over and over, is. I mean, we pray and pray for something to happen. Then when it does, what do we do? Maybe we’re thankful for a while, but eventually something new comes up, and we pray and pray again. That’s not how we’re supposed to live out our life.

I k no w t h at wh at I p u rsue , f irst and f o r e m o st , c anno t be m y wo rldly de s ire ...

I n stead, bre aking t h e c y c le o f p ursuit re qu i r es m e t o p ursue Go d abo v e all.

So how do I break out of this pattern of desire?

This is something I’m still struggling with today, and honestly I’m not sure if it’s one I’ll ever overcome. But I’ll try. I know that what I pursue, first and foremost, cannot be my worldly desire. Every time I’ve done this I’ve been left unsatisfied no matter the result. Instead, breaking the cycle of pursuit requires me to pursue God above all. If you think about it, that makes sense. I’ll never reach God— not on earth, anyways. So I’ll always be reaching

towards Him, running to Him, but never coming even close to God. It’s no longer a cycle, because it can’t be one if it never repeats, am I right?

Then the question becomes, what is the pursuit of God? What does it look like? And to that, I say… I don’t know. Or rather, I don’t know the full scope of it all. It means to put Him first. It means to seek to become more like Christ. It means that in everything we do God should be the reason, and the way.

And it means so much more that I just don’t know.

How is it possible to do all that, to be all that?

Well, like the incredibly based Jesus said, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible” (Matthew 19:26).

I guess pursuing God is a daily process—one I’m still trying to figure out. That’s kind of its own cycle in itself, except I’m always reaching towards the same goal. I still desire the things that I want, and I still pray to God about them. But I hope to reach the point where I’m lifting up my requests in prayer because I am talking to God, and not the other way around. It’s like what Jesus said in the sermon on the mount: “Seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” (Matthew 6:33) Only then can I break out of this cycle of worldly pursuit and instead pursue God. With a heart desiring Him and my eyes focused on Christ, I will once again ask: Hey God, can I get a girlfriend?

Amen.

S P R I N G’24 ‘24 // 14 14 SPRING

WO RDS , IMA GES | CH R IS MOON

Growing up, I never wanted to use the dishwasher.

I thought it was such a waste of water and energy (which, with modern dishwashers, is not the case at all; in fact, hand-washing dishes uses more water). More than that, however, was my conviction that dirty dishes put through the dishwasher never came out completely clean. Occasionally, I would find remnants of a previous meal left on a bowl or a spoon. And to me, it made sense; how could I trust that this unseen washing cycle was really doing its job if there was always some blemish left after? I had no faith that my dishwasher truly worked, as it only ever yielded almost-but-not-quite-clean dishes for me to deal with.

As one progresses in the Christian journey, the necessity of both salvation and sanctification are revealed. For the saved believer, salvation is a onetime occurrence in our life. Jesus does not continually return to the world to offer Himself up, over and over again, but will return once more “not to deal with sin but to save those who are eagerly waiting for him” (Hebrews 9:28). As such, the gift of salvation, having been received by the believer, happens once in our life. Paul writes to the Ephesians, it is “by grace, through faith” that we have

15 / AGORA

been saved, a gift from God and not our own doing “so that no one may boast” (Ephesians 2:8-9).

While salvation is a singular event, sanctification is a lifelong occurrence. Throughout the New Testament, God reveals the necessity of being sanctified throughout our transformed life on earth. In Luke 9:23, we are told to take up our cross daily.

Unlike Jesus, who carried the cross once for all, we are called to carry ours every day. The incomplete and present-day nature of sanctification is further made clear in other passages as well. In Philippians 1:6, the God of covenants has promised us that the work He has begun in our lives (after being saved) will be brought to completion on the day of Jesus’s return. As seen in Hebrews 10:14, through Jesus’ sacrifice, we are made perfect through Him. Notice, however, in both of these passages, the tense is indicated as present/future oriented; He will bring to completion the work for those of us being sanctified. Where we have been saved, by a salvation that needs to occur only once, God’s work in us does not end there. We still flow through the cycles of sin, repentance, forgiveness, and sanctification until the “day of Jesus Christ”, of which only God knows when that day will come.

In a way, the process of sanctification is a lot like the dishwashing process. Dishes get dirtied and need to be cleaned; likewise, when we sin and fall short of His glory, we must repent and be cleansed

by His blood. However, dishes do not stay clean forever even after being washed. They are used, dirtied, and must be cleaned, over and over; after being saved, we will continue to sin, ask for forgiveness, and be renewed by Him. Where Christ needed to die for sins only once and our acceptance of this saving grace needs to happen only once, everyday in our life on earth brings the need to be restored, carried, sanctified again.

Throughout my life I have seen dishes slip out of my hands and shatter, rendered unusable and sometimes, cutting and wounding me. Each time this happens, it serves as a humiliating reminder of my own weaknesses and shortcomings. I am often prone to wonder what the point of this cleaning process is, if the process of getting dirty and getting hurt, time and time again, is inevitable.

Though the continuous need to be sanctified can be disheartening and difficult, it is necessary as a fallen human being striving to live as a child of God. God does not view me as a chore to get out

of the way, a burden and bother standing between Him and His will. Rather, God loves me so much that not only did He give His life to save me once, but cares so much to provide constant and present restoration in the midst of waiting for the eternal hope He has promised me.

Unlike a dishwasher, God is not fault-prone or errant. In my mistaken point of view, washing the dishes with my own hands is cleaner and more efficient. The reality of the superior efficiency of a dishwasher reveals that it, in fact, has a better understanding of how much water, power, and soap to use. Where my limited understanding fails, God’s understanding surpasses what I know or can even see. Though the dishes He washes may come out of the cycle with blemishes still, this is not an indication of an imperfect God; rather, the work in our lives is not yet complete. With our faults and imperfections, God reminds us that He has use for us yet (2 Corinthians 12:9-10). Though our lives may fall and shatter in our own hands, we are held by, cared for, and sanctified by the same One who authored our salvation (Hebrews 2:11).

SPRING ’24 / 16

WORDS | SIM O N R U I Z

WITHOUT YOU...

Every morning I sit at our table Looking out the window Drinking a cup of coffee I instinctively reach my hand towards yours Only to be met with nothing I remember, that you’re not here …Was the world always this empty?

Every afternoon I come home Weary from a long day of work I open the door and walk in I instinctively anticipate your hug Only for it never to arrive I remember, that you’re gone …Was this room always so cold?

Every evening I cook the same meal Making a bit too much Thinking about how it was your favorite I instinctively grab two plates Only to put one back I remember, that I’m alone now …What’s the point without you?

Every night I get ready for bed Surrounded by my emptiness Bombarded by memories of you I instinctively turn to face you Only to see no one I remember, that this is my life now …How do I do this again tomorrow?

17 / AGORA AG O R A

We were supposed to visit your parents for Christmas Do I still go?

How are they dealing with it?

What do I even say to them?

What do I even say to them?

Your friends keep reaching out I fake my strength I tell them I’m doing fine, I’m busy Because seeing them still hurts God… why did you take her away?

She loved you dearly She lit up every room she entered She cared for everyone But I’m here in a dark room God… why wasn’t it me instead?

She would know how to do this She would lean on you She would comfort our friends and family But I’m here hiding away God… what now?

I’m a mess without her I’m so empty I’m not able to handle this But I’m supposed to continue everyday without her?

God… I can’t This endless cycle where the world is moving too fast without her While each moment is painfully too long now that she’s gone This is all too much for me

WITH OUT YOU...

Everytime I wake up

Can You do something for once?

I hope this nightmare is over

I’m drowning in this sorrow

But everything is the same

While You do nothing Are You enjoying this?

How long do I wait?

They say You’re always working

This is all Your fault

And that I should trust You

You ruined everything While I suffer

Why is nothing changing?

Please fix something

Every time I eat

You could’ve saved her!

I expect her to pray

Unless You’re not all powerful

But no prayers come

Or maybe You don’t care Either way, she’s gone

Should I pray?

Are You even hearing me?

I’m too afraid Because it didn’t work for her

You could’ve made a different plan!

Your ways don’t seem better

Why didn’t You answer my prayers?

All You do is bring pain And somehow that gives You glory?

Everytime I see a couple

Are You even worth following?

I think of the plans we had They’re all gone now

You could’ve changed anything!

Unless You’re too busy to notice

Your ways are higher right?

You are God after all

You work all things for my good

Why bother with us?

I should probably submit to Your will

Are You even loving?

Why did You take her?

You could help me…

Yet You haven’t

Every time I’m alone

Still, I can’t save myself

I’m consumed by my thoughts

Where else could I even go?

A crippling whirlpool Unable to escape With You in the center Waiting calmly Why are You just standing there?!

S P R I N G’24 ‘24 // 18 18 SPRING

WITHOUT YOU...

Every day You watch over me Willingly taking my curses and insults Because You know my pain For You felt it too But You also know the healing So You remain a stronghold How can You put up with me?

Every week You comfort me When it all seems too much You are here giving me strength For You see my battles But You also know the victories So You remain a refuge How can You still love me?

Every month You rejoice over my growth Even when I see none You notice every step For You see where I’ve been But You also know where I’ll be So You remain a guide How can You still hope in me?

Every year You are patient with me Despite my faithlessness You have never abandoned me For You knew the journey But You also know the glory it brings So You remain my Father How can You be so faithful?

19 / AGORA AG O R A

Although it hurts now You are still good When it all seems unchangeable You are still powerful Although You feel distant now You are still present When it all seems unknown You are still in control You were there at the creation of the universe You watched every rise and fall You endured Your Son on the cross You rejoiced when He rose And You partook in our lives You were there when we met You watched as we fell in love You bore through every nervous date You celebrated our wedding And You partook in our joy You were there when she died You watched every tear fall You heard every desperate prayer You felt every heartbreak And You partook in our grief You will be there through the restoration You will be there when this encourages others You will be there when the growth glorifies You You will be there when I sing Hallelujah And You will partake in our worship

IL L US T RA TION | A LLISON C HU NG

SPRING S P R I N G’24 ‘24 // 20 20

AGORA WWW.GTAGORA.COM @GT.AGORA