When I Am Weak…

Asked to report improvement for a performance evaluation, we hesitate to confess our limitations. Forced to admit a shortcoming, we apply spin, reinventing faults as hidden strengths or the product of someone else’s mistake. 

Openly admitting failure can feel self-destructive in the academy’s competitive environment. Even as I prepare to share with you an insufficiency that still stings over a year after the fact, I’m tempted to cast myself as a victim. But that would redirect attention away from the God who worked through my weakness.

The Prospect of Formal Recognition

In the fall of 2023, I was anonymously nominated for a teaching award. Having never received such an honor after more than a quarter century in the classroom, I was exhilarated at the prospect that years of effort might receive formal recognition. Perhaps this distinction could glorify my Creator, demonstrating to peers suspicious of Christianity that my faith had actually boosted my effectiveness as a professor.

This is not the first time I have tried to anticipate God’s work, envisioning a blessing that would not only benefit me professionally, but provide ample opportunity to talk about divine design. This particular fantasy would have been very welcome following a quarter in which openly talking about my faith appeared to have put a target on my back for a few students.

What Were They Looking For?

Following surprise classroom visits by six different professors on the selection committee for the teaching award, I was hopeful that the dynamic discussions they witnessed paired well with able course design. The following quarter, they kept coming, dropping by two additional courses multiple times. 

In all, I received 14 drop-bys! What were they looking for that they couldn’t quickly find? Did they discover things about me online they had difficulty reconciling with what they saw in person? Was I missing the mark in the tone I adopted with my students? Was my pedagogy faulty? Was I just not good enough?

When I received word that I had not received the award, the news fell hard: I had been seen, seen by many, and hadn’t measured up.

Enough Salt from My Weary Soul

Then a student from that difficult quarter—the one when student evaluations dropped significantly alongside accusations that I was pushing religion—dropped by my office. Since I’d brought up spiritual matters alongside the psychological and sociological ones expected when discussing literature, she felt comfortable opening up about how Jesus was calling her out of the atheistic worldview she’d inherited from her parents. She found a church community late that spring, joined my “Bible as Literature” course in the fall, and completed a senior project with me on the works of C. S. Lewis.

Despite my battered self-confidence and perceived missteps in the classroom, God was still using me in the life of this student. He shook enough salt and light out of my weary soul to touch a single life. It was enough, more than enough. He always is.