My dream of working in the world of books had finally come true. Here I was, after 20 years of school, finally out in the real world and doing the noble work of publishing books — tell-all memoirs, experimental fiction, and nature essays on migration and identity. I was finally part of an industry that had the power to impact the world.
So why did I feel guilty for not doing more to respond to God’s call for me: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world (James 1:27)? Why did my life and work feel indulgent and frivolous?
Like many Asian Americans, I grew up in a church environment that attempted to bridge Western theology and Eastern culture by co-opting filial piety to justify having high standards of success. Our parents sacrificed much for us to live here. Draw that parallel with the sacrifice of Jesus. Now, conflate their sacrifices and subtract the notion of grace.
In other words, we were taught that we must show our obedience and gratitude to our parents by making their sacrifice “worth it.” We were “called” to pursue security or comfort, not as an idol, but as a qualification or means by which to do God’s work.
So, sure. I wasn’t choosing my career over God, but I believed that in order to be doing God’s work, I needed to pursue excellence, be in the highest places, and work at the best jobs. Aim high, because going to an Ivy league maximizes His glory. Forget about God making the rocks cry out — he’ll make me work at Google! And of course, he put me in the publishing world so that I could advocate for His Word in the secular world of words! Why else?
I’m not criticizing the idea of being a missionary in the workplace — we are called to be salt and light in our places of employment. But oftentimes, that complex, even difficult practice is reduced to the idea that we as Christians are doing God’s work just by existing in a secular place.
I started asking these questions of myself: But am I equipped? Does every day really feel like I’m going off to spiritual war? Do I work 8 hours a day without thinking about God once and then speed-read a chapter of the Bible before bed to dispel my guilt?
I was worried about money, about never living up to my potential at my job, about never getting a big break as an editor. I thought I was worrying out of a spiritual desire to be loved and used by God. But then I realized, “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also (Matthew 6:21).” I found my heart in a place that loved God, but I never loved God on the same playing field as I valued my other loves. I justified placing my value in my job title and my professional and academic accomplishments because I assumed that my success was the best way for God to use me. I expected God to do “great things” through my life if I positioned myself in optimal ways. I did not think first to affirm the value of God’s Word in my life by pursuing it as formally and as vigorously as I did my other successes.
So this year, I applied to seminary. It was a way for me to affirm that God’s Word has supreme value in my life as the authoritative answer to all things. I wanted to learn how to be happy with Him by studying His Word, literally, with Him in everything!
I don’t want to separate my Instagram consumption with my understanding of apologetics. I don’t want to passively watch kids who didn’t get enough likes on a filtered selfie go through mental anguish because I didn’t know how to share how the inerrant word of God tells us we are made from and with divine purpose, giving us inherent worth.
If a teenaged girl asks me if masturbation is a sin, if she asks me why Leah was ugly, or if she asks me the Bible’s views on plastic surgery and smoking weed, can I genuinely tell her that I find exhilaration in Jesus — an adrenaline-pinching joy that comes from obedience — because I’ve found that the Bible answers these questions for all areas of my life?
I’m also going to seminary because I realized that I have to unlearn and relearn some of my faith. What if God doesn’t desire for me to feel the same shame my parents made me feel for not “multiplying my talents” in a particular way? What if my experience of being a diasporic immigrant can be a link to help me better understand and trust portraits of God’s faithfulness in the Bible, rather than having it make me feel isolated and blaming God for punishing me with hardship?
This isn’t a rallying cry that you should all Apply Now to a Seminary Near You! If you’re happy with your relationship with God where you are, then stay, be watered, and grow!
Maybe you’re like me and asking yourself, “Wait, am I holy enough to go to seminary? I don’t even want to be a pastor. Can’t I just study the Bible on my own?” Remember that seminary isn’t for holy people. But it teaches us to read the Bible better so that we can be convicted of our sinfulness and transformed by his grace, and therefore, be even better at reading the Bible!
And no, I don’t want to be a pastor, but I do like studying and I like excellence. So why should I stop myself from doing those things explicitly for God? If I can apply the most vigorous effort to studying for the SATs, for college apps, for a 4.0, for a competitive job interview, then I can apply that same vigorous study to the formal pursuit of God’s Word. Maybe I won’t be a pastor, but how can I know how God might use my seminary education in the future?
Why am I applying to seminary now? Because it will never be a good time. There is no good time when all times seem only to get worse. I am the mist of James 4:14: “Yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes.”
My life could end today while I write this, but if I have strived to taste as many of the brilliant notes in the incredibly complex and full-bodied flavors of the Bible and allowed it to ground my pleasure and worth in the life of Jesus, at least I will have lived, despite my sinfulness, as grace-filled of a life as I can, in my attempts to genuinely profess to God that His Word means the most to me.