Growing Up: Part 6 (Pittsburgh, PA)

“No man can order his life, for it comes flowing over him from behind . . .”  (George MacDonald)

Our first home was a quaint two-bedroom apartment on the second floor of an old house in Pittsburgh. “The Steel City” is also known as “the City of Bridges” for the more than 400 bridges that cross its three rivers. I always enjoyed driving through the Fort Pitt Tunnel—a minute of underground seclusion opens to an up-close view of the city skyline.

We lived in a neighborhood close to the University of Pittsburgh and Carnegie Mellon University called Squirrel Hill. With its high Jewish population, it is common to see people dressed in Orthodox clothing, walking to a synagogue. Of course, not all Jews are Orthodox. Some are Reform and others are Conservative. Still others are non-religious like our older Jewish landlords.

Soon after we moved in, I noticed little rectangular boxes positioned on an angle on the doorposts of our rooms. Eventually I realized that they were mezuzahs—small boxes with the Shema inside. The following words from Deuteronomy 6 are written on a piece of paper and rolled up inside each box:

Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.

Why are these words placed on doorframes? The instructions in Deuteronomy continue: “Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates” (6:9).

Our home was conveniently located near shops and grocery stores and Geetha was able to walk to work at a stationary store. In this Jewish neighborhood, several businesses close on Friday evening for twenty-four hours to honor the Sabbath. Since the time of sunset changes, owners place an updated message on their doors every Friday: “Sabbath begins at 4:52 p.m.”

One day while walking home from the store I met a rabbi. He was friendly and invited me to stop by his synagogue and talk to him. I have always regretted not taking him up on his offer.

Training

I worked for a campus ministry organization called Coalition for Christian Outreach (CCO), which places each worker on a college campus and in a church position, with the goal of linking the two.

My job orientation involved an outdoor learning experience in western Pennsylvania with about thirty new staff members. We trekked into a forest and lived for four days without access to bathrooms or other modern conveniences. Instead of tents, we stretched tarps over our heads to cover us from the rain.

During our time in the wilderness, we did an obstacle course with team-building activities. When it concluded we all sat in a big circle and each of us had to share what we learned.

People said things along these lines: “I felt like I really learned about trust. When my partner told me to balance in a certain way it really clicked that I needed that other person by my side.”

When my turn came halfway into the circle, I also expressed something “deep and profound” about what I had learned.

The guy after me said, “I just thought I was doing an obstacle course. I wasn’t thinking of anything else.”

A breath of fresh air. I wished I had answered like him. That’s how I really felt, but I had jumped on the bandwagon.

Community College

On weekdays I drove to a community college campus in the suburbs to lead weekly Bible studies and spend time with students. Since it was a commuter campus, the cafeteria was the primary place to connect with people. I remember one student well: Harshith from Punjab, India. He was a vegetarian so he brought his own lunch. We regularly conversed about his family and his religion—Jainism. I couldn’t believe that his diet was so strict that he had to avoid certain vegetables. (Ten years later, I would be teaching Jainism in a World Religions class in South Korea.)

The terrorist attacks on 9/11 occurred exactly one month after our wedding. I was asked to give a message to the students following the tragedy. I wasn’t sure what to share then I remembered the story in Luke 13, where Jesus talked about a tower that fell. He asks, “Of those eighteen who died when the tower in Siloam fell on them—do you think they were more guilty than all the others living in Jerusalem?” (v. 4). Of course, the answer is “No.”

Church

I also served as a youth pastor at a small Presbyterian church in a township called Penn Hills so technically I had to split my hours between two places. But what counted as working hours? Does preparing a lesson, driving, talking to someone on the phone, all count as a part of my work? I wasn’t sure and I wanted to get it right. After discussing this with the pastor, he replied, “Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill.” I have remembered that comment because I have a tendency to make a big deal out of little things.

On Monday nights I attended a Young Life Campaigners meeting at the leader’s home. About twenty high school students sat on the floor discussing a Bible passage. I liked how it was led. Students received a handout with the passage then quietly wrote their own notes on the paper for a few minutes. We then had a discussion and ended with prayer.

Our youth group only had eight students and the church was struggling to stay afloat with about thirty to forty people in attendance on Sundays. I taught the youth on Sunday mornings and planned activities and events. The parents were kind and supportive, helping with trips to places like Hershey Park and a Pittsburgh Pirates baseball game.

One of our activities was white-water rafting. Before we got into the raft we put on our life jackets and listened to instructions from the guide. He told us where to position ourselves so that we wouldn’t fall out when hitting boulders in the water. Although I followed his instructions, I still fell out, in a high rapids area. I felt completely out of control as the gushing water pushed me toward the rocks. After a few frightful seconds, I decided to surrender to the river by relaxing on my back. I made it out injury-free.

Control and Freedom

My Pentecostal upbringing and work in a Presbyterian church exposed me to a longstanding theological debate in Christianity: God’s sovereignty (control or determinism) versus human freedom. Pentecostals are on the freedom side of the spectrum while Presbyterians are on the sovereignty side.

Here’s the issue: If God is in control, how can our choices and actions matter? On the other hand, if our actions make a real difference, how can God be in control? As you can see, it’s easy to swing from one extreme to the other, from fatalism (God is in total control and we are essentially puppets) to atheism (we are in total control because there is no God). By the way, this is not merely a philosophical conundrum for Christians. Other religious adherents as well as non-religious thinkers also wrestle with determinism and free will.

The name Calvinism comes from John Calvin (1509-1564), whose teachings of the Bible emphasized God’s sovereignty. Ultimately, according to Calvinism, the only difference between a saint and sinner is God’s election. The name Arminianism comes from Jacobus Arminius (1560-1609), who was trained in Calvin’s teaching, but rejected certain aspects of Calvinism. He believed Scripture gave a greater role to human free will than Calvin allowed.

More than a century later in America, John Wesley (1703-1791) and George Whitefield (1714-1770) went toe-to-toe with each other on this topic. Wesley’s ardent Arminianism led him to preach a sermon in which he claimed that Calvinism makes God worse than the devil. Whitefield responded by openly disagreeing with Wesley’s sermon in a letter. But in the end, their mutual respect for each other won out as Whitefield requested that Wesley preach at his funeral. Wesley acquiesced and eulogized his friend with admiration.

Two centuries later the debate continues. Why? Both things are taught in Scripture: God is sovereign and we are responsible agents. For instance, Jesus affirmed God’s sovereignty with the statement, “No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him” (John 6:44), but he also pinned the blame on the human will when he stated, “you refuse to come to me that you may have life” (John 5:40). Several solutions to this debate have been proposed. If you are interested in going into more detail, see this post. For the record, I don’t believe God is sovereign over evil in the same way that he is sovereign over good. (See this post.)

European Vacation

In June 2002 we went to England and Italy with Geetha’s parents. Her mom and dad were both born and raised in Chennai (Madras), India so they speak to each other in Tamil and English. Both also come from Christian families. My mother-in-law’s father was a successful banker so he was able to provide amply for his seven children. My father-in-law’s father was an Anglican priest and his mother was a doctor so he likes to say, “he preached and she practiced.”

Geetha’s mom moved to Oregon for her master’s degree in the 1960s. After she graduated, she returned to India, had an arranged marriage, then encouraged her husband to move to the US. He accepted a job in Toledo, Ohio and they arrived with sandals in the winter of 1966. They then moved to Tucson, Arizona before settling in Knoxville, Tennessee where my father-in-law practiced as a hematologist-oncologist for more than thirty years.

As one of the first Indian families in the city they weren’t sure what kind of welcome they would receive. Fortunately, they experienced southern hospitality from the beginning and they have made other Indian families feel welcomed. Throughout their fifty-plus years of marriage, Geetha’s parents have shown extraordinary hospitality, allowing various people to live in their home and hosting huge parties for friends.

While in Rome, Geetha and I went on a wild-goose chase looking for a famous Bernini sculpture called the Ecstasy of Saint Teresa. Bernini was one of the great Italian sculptors of the 17^th century and Geetha had learned about his work while studying art history at the University of Tennessee. We traversed the city but couldn’t find it. We even asked a worker in an art museum but that didn’t help.

As we stood on the street looking at the map an American man with red hair approached and asked, “Can I help?”

“We’re looking for the Bernini sculpture called the Ecstasy of Saint Teresa.”

“I know where it is. I’ll take you there.”

We hopped on a bus and followed him to the church which houses this masterpiece. It was in a surprisingly obscure location. When we arrived he told us about Bernini and explained the background of his work in detail. After we left the church, we continued to walk the streets of Rome with our new friend as he talked to us about Italy and translated for us.

I was stunned at his generosity. Who would spend so much time with strangers? (No, he did not threaten us in any way.)

“Where do you live?” he asked.

“In Pittsburgh, in a neighborhood called Squirrel Hill.”

“I know the Jewish community in Squirrel Hill well.”

“What do you do?” I asked.

“I’m in communications.”

Afterward I wondered if he was an angel.

First Baby

Geetha’s pregnancy went well overall, but during visits to the obstetrician, we were repeatedly told that the baby looked like it was missing an ear. They even had us meet with a geneticist to consider our options.

About three months after our trip to Europe, while we were enjoying a picnic on the lawn, listening to a jazz concert at Frick Park in Pittsburgh, Geetha thought it was time to get to the hospital. A few hours after we arrived, the baby’s heart rate began dropping fast so they told us they had to do an emergency procedure. Everything seemed like chaos with student doctors and nurses filling the room. I was anxious to see our doctor, but she was missing. A few minutes later, Olivia was delivered safe and sound with both ears intact. Then the doctor arrived.

Shortly after, our parents arrived to see their first grandchild. We took her home the next day. I was twenty-five and didn’t know what I was doing. For the first two weeks Olivia had trouble breastfeeding so she cried constantly. This was a stressful time for all of us. We even had a lactation consultant come to our home to give us advice.

Olivia liked to sit and sleep in her car seat in a contorted way. The first time I made her smile she was sitting in her blue seat in the living room. I said some gibberish and she grinned with her toothless mouth then I did it again and again. She was responding to me and I was elated.

Moving On

The church where I was working continued to struggle financially so during our second year the pastor told me that they thought it would be best to end my position. Since one of our youth group members graduated while we were there, one of my jokes is to say, “I grew the youth group from eight to seven.”

So I started looking for another job and found an organization with international schools around the world.

While preparing to leave Pittsburgh, we met an Asian couple from Singapore and they told us about their country.

Part 7

Part 5