I teetered on the brink of deism
for a considerable number of years. Many of my closest friends are agnostic, I dated an atheist for over two years, and my grandma (bless her) will shamelessly bring God into any conversation- pretty much a recipe for stagnant faith. I have always preferred the show-not-tell method of Christianity: I would rather leave someone wondering what was different about their interaction with me than leave them wondering if Jesus would’ve also beat
the Bible over their head. I abhor the nationalistic approach that many Americans have forced on Christianity and the political arena that many churches have turned into. So much of our daily lives are wrapped up in pseudo-sociopathic individuality complexes that we forget how to interact with each other. We fail to listen without preparing an answer; we heighten our defenses and fortify our beliefs. Perhaps I am speaking out of turn, or perhaps I am projecting my habits prior to King’s.
the Bible over their head. I abhor the nationalistic approach that many Americans have forced on Christianity and the political arena that many churches have turned into. So much of our daily lives are wrapped up in pseudo-sociopathic individuality complexes that we forget how to interact with each other. We fail to listen without preparing an answer; we heighten our defenses and fortify our beliefs. Perhaps I am speaking out of turn, or perhaps I am projecting my habits prior to King’s.
I was originally annoyed with the fact that I was three credits short of walking in May 2022, my initial date of graduation pre-pandemic. My final semester had me expecting many things, but for it to be my best one was not one of those expectations. With such a light load of classwork, I threw myself into extracurriculars. I rediscovered myself in a way I thought impossible. I audited a class for fun. I was offered a position on the Refuge exec team and happily (although a bit thrown off - you really want me doing this?) accepted. I was told that an opinion piece of mine was worthy of being published. I royally screwed up. I forgave myself. I learned to love reading
again. I realized, now that I was finally in sight of the finish line, that I would miss it. Every experience became coated in a golden hour sort of light. Every brief but genuine interaction, every moment of office hours, every last-minute assignment. All of it became precious. My final semester at King’s was a big mess of little joys.
again. I realized, now that I was finally in sight of the finish line, that I would miss it. Every experience became coated in a golden hour sort of light. Every brief but genuine interaction, every moment of office hours, every last-minute assignment. All of it became precious. My final semester at King’s was a big mess of little joys.
As an institution, King’s still has a way to go. There is no point in denying that. But when you love something, you fight for it. You don’t punish it, you don’t cover up the visible flaws. You push it to be better. I truly hope to see The King’s College continue to grow into the nurturing, warm, and compassionate school I know it can be.
I am beyond grateful to say that the people at this school have changed me and strengthened my faith for the better. Though it is tantalizingly easy to feel burnt out, I have seen that there is strength in joy and resilience in vulnerability. In a world that is spurred on by nihilism and transfixed with chaos, the people at this school have shown me that there is power in living a life for something greater than oneself.
Juliet Miller
Former Refuge Exec Team Member | House of Corrie Ten Boom | Class of '22
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