something i really needed to read right now.

heres truth as im seeking it...

Mark Steele
Relevant: College Edition
October 2005
RENT THIS EXPERIENCE

I couldn’t name all of the Supreme Court Justices if I was being dangled naked over a pit of cybot piranha. Those names, along with a thousand other supposedly important facts I learned in college, are literally nowhere in my subconscious. They eased in one ear, came out the end of my #2 pencil, and remained forever on the examination page.

Let’s face it: who truly needs to be aware of the hypotenuse? Who gives a rip what the Medici family did or paid for? I do not daily interface with cumulonimbus clouds, iambic pentameter, and Corinthian columns. I did not, do not, and never will live in the Pleistocene era and sincerely doubt it will show up on a job application. For these and a myriad of other reasons, I have not retained the education.

But, oh, do I remember the first time I heard the haunting strains of the chamber orchestra coda to “All I Want is You” while flying over San Francisco Bay on the way back from break with my college friends. I remember which roommate wept, seated to my left when the bomber flew over a young Christian Bale’s head in “Empire of the Sun.” I remember who I was shelving rental videos with when I first heard Stewart Copeland’s improvised percussion throughout “Red Rain.” Who I sat next to in the theatre when Robin Williams urged “carpe diem.” The exact place I stood in Mexico when I heard that Randy Stonehill song. The mile markers of road trips and extraordinary days and devastating moments that played out in rhythm with the original soundtracks and motion pictures of my college experience.

Pop art has a way of cementing details. A method of internal time capsule. Admittedly, the years in question in which I attended college (the above references should be a clue) were marked more by their lack of decent music. These were the four years of radio wilderness in-between Joshua Tree and Nevermind. These were the years of the Tiffanys and Debbies, hanging tough and growing mullets. Nonetheless, it was the musical score that, to this day, triggers a memory about a person I had long forgotten.

This is, of course, the saddest and most shocking realization of all. That the song comes back so easily, but not quite the faces that listened alongside me. I remember the life on the screen faster and more accurately than the life lived in the room next door. The college experience became marked and defined more by others lyrics and screenplays than my own. Even now, I consider the moments that I knew someone next to me – in my class, my dorm, my room – was hurting. But, instead of turning to face them, we both faced the music and let it define our pain.

Certainly the purpose of art is catharsis: to allow us to live vicariously through its pro- and antagonists. That we might learn something – live something – without actually having to go there ourselves. But, art – even pop art music and film – were never intended to replace. They were intended to provoke.

I have chosen to follow Jesus with my life. If I am going to pay attention to His teachings, this should make me a feeler. As in, I am supposed to empathize with and love others. Therefore, I must give myself over to some level of feeling. In my college years, I understood this and I attempted this. But, I quickly discovered that it was uncomfortable to go that deep. It was vulnerable and unsightly. It made me feel raw and unprotected. So, more often than not, I hesitated: feeling less with real life and feeling more with the emotions spoon-fed to me by mass-media outlets.

In the process, my college experience – no, my life experience – was at times real and at other times rented. The years of my life where I could afford to risk the most – adventure the most – befriend the most – feel the most – were being lived in hand-me-downs.

That passion was Adrian Cronauer’s passion.
That unforgettable fire was Paul Hewson’s fire.
That mission was John Dunbar’s mission.
That Savior was Rich Mullins’ Savior.

I was certainly feeling. But, the feeling was as detached from my own reality as possible.

Many years and many feelings later, I have learned to engage with the world around me. I have learned that a life in pursuit of Christ is a paradox if it is only lived through headphones. I must feel for the people – with the people – right next to the people. I must risk uneasiness and pain for the vulnerability of turning away from the iPod and into the eyes of the individual in the adjacent seat.

For every beautiful moment with another human being that I experienced during my college journey, there were another two potential moments I allowed to slip away. It is only now, in retrospect, that I realize how available I was. How primed I was in those few years to truly engage, listen, and affect.

I continue to be inspired by the words, tunes, and images art urges toward me. But, I do not allow them to exist in my stead. Now, I keep my eyes and ears attuned in all directions – looking for the ones who need a steady gaze to make their hurts known and make their healing personal. I continue to be moved by the pop that plays about me – but now – that passion, that fire, that mission, that Savior – are my own.