Vista Magazine, Issue 6, Summer 2019

VISTA VISTA MMAAGGAAZ ZI INNE E

SUMMER SPRING 2019 2019

ISSUE ISSUE V VI

If the Campus Countercultural Speak 29 Could Jesus

Senior The Lamp Lady ofReflections Caroline Hall

At theIfcorner of Foster Jesus worked to and expose Kedzie, near the train tracks oppressive systems andand the river, lives a small oasis in institutions, shouldn’t the midst of a bustling we do the same? city. What would she say about her people?

Vista’swho graduating Discover lurks thesenior halls staff members reflect of Caroline Hall in this on their time at North historical fiction short. Park.

PutLetter a Little Hope from the in Politcal Justice future SGA

04Political President justice always

disappoints, but don’t SGAhope.

President Elect Daniel lose Strom explains what he hopes to achieve during his time as President.

Spring Cleaning YourDid LifeHe What See In Me?

Learn Marie Kondo’s rules and spring clean your life!

Kayla Sutton discusses her experience with the CRUX program.

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MEET THE

VISTA TEAM EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

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SENIOR EDITOR - ONLINE SENIOR EDITOR - PRINT

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Stephen Nielsen Ariana Diaz Kaylyn Sweitzer

DIGITAL CONTENT DIRECTOR • • • • • Ethan Oliver DESIGNER

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COMMENTARY EDITOR

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Caroline Patterson Jake Whitfield

ARTS & CULTURE EDITOR • • • • • • • • • • • Emmanuel Carrillo RELIGION & FAITH EDITOR SOCIAL MEDIA & MARKETING MANAGER BUSINESS MANAGER THIS ISSUE’S CONTRIBUTORS:

Daniel Strom

Abby Imperial

Belinda Banh

Rebecca Conner

Jessica Tam

Maddy Widman

Bailey Myrin

Elayna Swickard

Rebekah Law

Maddie Bennett

Kayla Sutton

Haley Hack

Brandon Davis Cover photo used with permission from North Park University

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Ariana Diaz Kajsa Johnsrud Anosh Wasker

LETTER

FROM THE EDITOR Dear Reader, Thank you for picking up a copy of our latest issue! This is the last Vista issue that I will be a part of creating. From Vista’s creation to now, we have tried to serve the North Park community by giving a voice to North Parkers and to be a platform for discussion across campus. We have also attempted to be a magazine where students can learn how to operate in the professional world. Working at Vista isn’t just a campus gig, but also an opportunity to make an impact.

I couldn’t have started or continued Vista Magazine without all of the North Parkers who have given their time and energy to the magazine.

I believe that the dedication to Vista’s mission shows in the quality of our magazine and online content. I have met new people and heard and shared stories of North Parkers through the connections that Vista Staff Members have with the community.

Those connections and experiences are what make this magazine issue special. Our focus for this magazine was people’s personal experiences, both at North Park and around the world. North Parkers are afforded many opportunities, whether that is taking a class trip to Colombia or traveling to Honduras for a medical trip. North Park also allows space for questioning yourself or beliefs and searching for answers. While it may give you some answers, you may have to look for them on your own. These are all experiences of North Parkers who have written in this issue.

Personal experiences and stories were the foundation of Vista. We share stories of experiences North Parkers have, and we want to tell those around campus. Our adventures are both things that are our own and things others have encountered, wrestled with, or found joy in. I am excited that Vista can continue to do this with new leadership next year.

I am confident in the abilities of our new Editor-in-Chief, and I hope that you continue to read Vista online and in print. New leadership means new stories that I am unable to tell, but you will also be able to read. This is our last issue for this academic year. Vista will continue as the fall semester commences.

Happy reading, Stephen Nielsen Editor-in-Chief

CONTENTS

CONTENTS

VISTA MAGAZINE

SUMMER 2019 ISSUE

THE COLOR OF JOY

THE SUNRISE CLUB

ONCE A VIKING...

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1 WE WERE STRANGERS ONCE

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Some Christians use scripture as a means to justify the mistreatment of immigrants, ignoring its true meaning.

The tale of a scarf, a crush, and a misunderstanding.

9 SEVERITY OF THE INDEFINITE

10 DREAM WORLD

The first generation “imposter syndrome” in college.

Reflecting on dreams and interpeting them artistically.

I WAS COLD

JAMES H. CONE A TRIBUTE

SHIP 15

MEDELLÍN: UNA CIUDAD CON ESPERANZA

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CONTENTS

MENTAL ASYLUM MAZES

WHAT DID HE SEE IN ME?

FROM THE FUTURE SGA PRESIDENT

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13 TURNING THE PAGE Will we be okay with God’s will? Will we stick with the page that God asks us to be on?

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14 THE WHITE SAVIOR COMPLEX White Progressive Politics and Short Term Missions are both blind of their self centeredness.

29 IF THE CAMPUS COULD SPEAK

SENIOR REFLECTIONS

This piece beautifully captures all that North Park is and how our Creator is the author and designer of it all.

27 THE AGE OF HIGHBROW HORROR

28 ON NOT BEING THE “WILD CHILD”

24 SUNAGO

The 2010s as a decade of horror.

The trials and tribulations of sisterhood.

Asking the question, “What does community actually look like?”

RELIGION & FAITH

VISTA MAGAZINE

SUMMER 2019 ISSUE

We Were Strangers Once

by Daniel Strom

American politics and Christian theology have a long and complicated relationship. At times, the Bible has been used as an instrument of liberation by enslaved persons like Nat Turner, trade unionists like Dorothy Day, and civil rights activists like Dr. Martin Luther King.

But it has also been used by those who seek to maintain unjust status quos and suppress any dissent. Slave-owners utilized the Bible, as did opponents of women’s suffrage, the architects of Jim Crow laws, and all the other powerful white men who have so often controlled our nation’s politics.

Our day and age are no different. When faced with one of the great moral issues of our time, those in power and those on the margins both marshal scripture in defense of their aims. This moral issue is immigration, and the Biblical arguments around the topic are as numerous as the political ones. As immigrants face an administration and ruling party openly contemptuous of their lives and dignity, an administration in power because of the votes of white evangelicals, it is more important than ever that those of us who see the Bible as good news for all people, especially the marginalized, show how our Scripture rebukes the powerful and brings hope to the oppressed.

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The architect behind some of the Trump administration’s cruelest decisions in regard to immigrants was the former Attorney General Jeff Sessions. Sessions, a devout Methodist, like many conservative Christians, believes that the government of the United States ought to reflect his specific interpretation of Scripture when it comes to human sexuality and when life begins.

As attorney general, he resigned his support for LGBTQ individuals and women’s reproductive freedom, often justifying it in the language of “religious freedom” and “freedom of conscience.” As a senator, he openly challenged government policy during the Obama years, again using Biblical justifications. When it came to immigration, however, Sessions flipped the script.

Last summer, as children were being ripped from their parents and put in cages, he cited Romans 13 to silence critics of the administration’s policies. He said, “I would cite you to the apostle Paul and his clear and wise command in Romans 13, to obey the laws of the government because God has ordained the government for his purposes.”

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Some variation of this theme is common in arguments made by Christian defenders of Trump’s immigration policies. The argument normally sounds like this: “The government is ordained by God, we are called to give unto Caesar what is Caesar’s, the Bible calls on us to follow the laws of the nations we live under, and people illegally crossing the border is a violation of all these principles, is thus sinful and the government has every right to punish sinful action.”

On the surface, this sounds reasonable enough, but it falls apart on closer examination. For one, it is an argument dripping in hypocrisy and factual inaccuracy. Conservative Christians for some reason cited Romans 13 far less during the Obama years and never bring it up in regard to Roe V. Wade or Obergefell V. Hodges. In addition, it is legal to request asylum, so no one was actually breaking any laws during the specific “crisis” that Sessions was speaking about but just as importantly, it’s bad theology.

Sessions and his ilk forget St. Augustine’s maxim that “an unjust law is no law at all.” Rather, he inaccurately conflates the law and morality, ignoring that the law is a function of power – power that the many evangelical Christians in the administration from the Vice President to the head of homeland security – could use on behalf of the marginalized if they took their faith seriously.

The Bible does not command unflinching obedience to the powers and principalities of this world, for our ultimate allegiance is not to any man-made nation-state with arbitrary borders – it is to heaven. When the choice comes down to our allegiance to heaven and our allegiance to the world it is clear that heaven must come first. That’s why we don’t criticize our brothers and sisters martyred in nations that ban religious freedom for failing to follow the law. That’s why most of us celebrate the achievements of civil rights marchers who broke the law and did it not in spite of their faith but because of it. That’s why Christians – even many conservative Christians – speak highly of figures like Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a man who was part of a plot to literally murder his country’s leader.

So, there is nothing inherently just about a law just because it is the law. Unflinching legalism in the name of Christianity should be viewed the same way as Christ viewed the Pharisees of whom he said, “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices--mint, dill and cumin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law--justice, mercy and faithfulness.

You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former.”

There are over eighty references to immigration and immigrants in the Bible, often referred to as “sojourners” or “strangers.” That’s far more references than the topic of homosexuality or abortion, which so many prominent evangelical figures insist are cornerstones of our faith.

The overarching theme that arises from these verses is that Scripture demands justice and fairness in the treatment of immigrants.

RELIGION & FAITH

You know what it’s like to be a stranger, for you were strangers once too in the land of Egypt.” Additionally, the story of Exodus and Christ’s own life story all point to Scripture being on the side of the “sojourner among us.” In fact, as a young babe fleeing with his family to escape state-sanctioned brutality, Christ’s early years were not all that different than what families in El Salvador and Guatemala and Honduras face today. Would conservative evangelicals really insist that Herod’s order was just, meaning that Mary and Joseph were criminal lawbreakers for defying it? I think not.

Those who would use the Bible to justify cruelty ought to look at how God dealt with Pharaoh and King Nebuchadnezzar in regard to their treatment of the strangers in their midst. Recognizing these things is not to insist that church and state must be intertwined, but we as Christians do have a duty to advocate for and vote according to Biblical principle. If we actually did that, we would be choosing candidates based on their support for immigrants, the poor and racial, gender and environmental justice. For when the dignity of our fellow human beings, and often our fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, is denied in order for politicians to score political points by demonizing the “least of these,” we cannot say that what is happening is “just” in any sense.

Leaders who aid and abet such cruelty must ask themselves if their hearts are set on Christ and his values or on the values and things of this world.

If the guiding credo of our nations civic religion is E Pluribus Unum, out of many ones, than the credo of our religion as Christ followers are to love thy neighbor. When the lawyer asked Jesus who then was his neighbor, he was not merely being clever or trying to stump our Savior, he was posing a question that resounds through the ages. This is a question each new generation must ask itself again. Who, then, is our neighbor? What obligations do we hold to those on the other side of the Samaritan road or the other side of the Rio Grande?

Our Savior’s answer is clear. We owe our neighbors the same as we would give ourselves or our own families. These obligations do not stop at national lines, and they cannot be blocked by any barriers made by man. The Guatemalan mother risking life and limb to claim asylum in this purported land of liberty is our neighbor. The Muslim refugee from Syria waiting in a refugee camp, hoping for a better life is our neighbor.

Our fellow students on this campus, Dreamers and undocumented students, immigrant and international students, are our neighbors.

May we, as followers of Christ, refuse to bow to the golden calves – in the form of concrete walls – of this world, that promises security and safety in exchange for ignoring the cries for help from our neighbors in need. May we welcome the sojourner among us and form a new beloved community of many nations and many peoples joined together in solidarity and love of neighbor. Then, and only then, may we be able to face our Lord and hear him say, “This is my beloved child in whom I am well pleased.”

In Levitical law, Old Testament provisions, and the story of the Israelites, God issued the command, “You must not oppress strangers.

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ARTS & CULTURE

VISTA MAGAZINE

SUMMER 2019 ISSUE

I Was Cold

by Belinda Banh

I went thrifting yesterday and got a knitted scarf the color of green manure. I was a fan. It had long fringe, which was what I looked for in a scarf, and it looked very similar to my other camel-turd brown scarf, which I’d also gotten at the thrift. Only two dollars? What a steal! ...Two days later and I could not find that scarf anywhere. I tried retracing my steps to figure out where I might’ve left it, so I went to the gym that I regularly climb at. Immediately, I saw that one of my three crushes was working. I’m not sure what his name is, but he has a nose ring and had a beanie on. My other two crushes’ names are both Andrew...I think.

One time I was going to refill my water bottle, and my nameless crush asked, “What’s up?”

Dumbfounded, I looked at him and smiled, “Hey!” and scurried back off into the woods of belayers as new patrons entered the facility—what a timely diversion.

Anyway, I asked him if anyone’s found a greenish brown scarf. He replied, “Let’s see if it’s in the lost and found bins...you can follow me.” Follow him I did. He took out a plastic bin from a shelf full of other bins labelled “shoes,” “harnesses,” and “bottles” and suggested, “You can look through the bin and see if you find your scarf...I’m colorblind.” I chuckled right as I realized that he wasn’t joking about being colorblind.

Mortified, I walked away scarfless.

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SUMMER 2019 ISSUE

VISTA MAGAZINE

COMMENTARY

Letter from the future SGA President

by Daniel Strom

Letter from the Future SGA President

by Daniel Strom

What will North Park look like in ten years? What will the experience of students be like a decade from now? How will our actions today shape the lives of those students tomorrow? These were just a few of the questions that motivated Gabby Rigg and me to run for President and Vice President of SGA. We began the campaign with the knowledge that our school is changing -- we’re a majority commuter school, we have more students who are first-generation, more international students, and there is no racial or ethnic majority. In short, we are no longer only a Swedish, Evangelical Covenant institution; we contain multitudes from all backgrounds and walks of life. That’s a fundamentally good thing; we are enriched by our diversity, and the opportunity to learn alongside so many different people is a blessing.

Whether or not North Park embraces and celebrates this promising pluralist future will depend on the decisions made by students and student leaders.

Gabby and I realized that these questions and debates around who we are and who we want to be will define this university and are at the heart of what Student Government is about. So, we decided to run to see if we could truly form a North Park United, a North Park where students of all races, ethnicities, genders, sexual orientations, religions, denominations, social classes, and ways of life could be united around a shared vision of a school that works for all students, not just a few.

We won a landslide 64% of the vote by building a big tent coalition of first-year students, commuters, international students, students of color, first-generation students, and more. We brought Covenant students and students from every faith tradition, students from small towns and big cities, students from halfway around the world and students from right down the street together with a simple message -- there is more that unites us than divides us and once we realize that, we can begin to embark on the important work of engaging in shared struggle to face the challenges that we all face. Gabby and I ran on an ambitious agenda and are excited to begin the important work that needs to be done.

From reducing our own stipends and giving students the chance to decide how that money is spent, to utilizing social media more in order to increase transparency, and increasing communication and celebrating the talents and

contributions of our many students, we will have students first in our agenda.

We will also recognize that as an advocacy organization, SGA will empower students -- through an official advocacy committee -- to pursue their passions, speak up for what matters to them and get involved with our community.

We will continue the work done by our incredibly gifted current President -Rakiiba Vaalele, a student and colleague and friend who embodies this future that Gabby and I celebrate and who has served with grace, intelligence and servant leadership over the past year -- to increase scholarships for students. We will listen to students through town halls, work with campus partners already engaging in change making and we will fight for justice, equity, inclusivity, and multiculturalism in all that we do.

I was reminded of why this all matters when I had the opportunity to attend the Open Mic in Brandel Library hosted by the International Office. It was a great night full of so many gifted fellow students pouring their hearts out and doing what they love. Students who normally would never see themselves sharing the same stage joined together, lifting one another up, laughing, crying, singing, and celebrating the culture and talent so present in this school. It was, I thought, a perfect picture of what this school is at its best -- a place where we all in doing what we love and encouraging our peers to do what they love in a place of mutual respect ends up creating something truly beautiful. At its best, this is what Student Government should be, and Gabby and I will work to make it a place where all feel welcome, included, and able to share their unique stories.

In lifting up our shared stories, it is my hope that we can also write a new story together for ourselves and generations of Vikings yet to come.

Daniel Strom SGA President, 2019-2020 Gabby Rigg SGA Vice President, 2019-2020 4

RELIGION & FAITH

VISTA MAGAZINE

SUMMER 2019 ISSUE

James H. Cone:

A Tribute

by Ariana Diaz

James H. Cone was born August 5, 1936, and recently passed away on April 28, 2019. He began teaching at Union Theological Seminary in 1970. Beginning in 1958, Cone started his education at Garrett Biblical Institute (now Garrett-Evangelical Theological Seminary). Cone’s compilation of Black theology began with the need for urgency out of people’s pain and struggle. Clearly, an entire population with a certain color of skin was and is being forgotten and mistreated all throughout the country. It is important to note that James H. Cone was not the first theologian to come up with such an idea; however, he is one of the first to dedicate his life and work to further the understanding of how the Black community relates to such a persecuted Jesus.

James Cone’s understanding of liberation theology stems from the body and person of Christ that suffered under the hand of power.

While Christ was on this earth, he was tempted, tried, and oppressed by those who did not favor him. Cone’s liberation theology uses the Savior’s persecution while he was on Earth and Black theology, which is established in Black bodies currently suffering in America, to cultivate the idea that God is present in the struggle and pain of humanity.

Finding a higher power through pain and struggle is something that can be traced back hundreds and hundreds of years. The hundreds of years of oppression and forgetting to love Black brothers and sisters as image bearers of God is something that will surely never be erased.

However, Black theology and Black power can flourish out of this pain.

Black power is known as doing whatever is deemed necessary to break away from white oppression and truly live into the proudness of being Black. Black theology is authentic and embraces the struggles, while white theology can be fragile and has a desire to make sure there is false peace rather than coming together as a community who accepts everyone, flaws and all.

The foundation of which Cone finds his sources of theology is from the Bible itself. To know the Bible then was to have the ability to preach and share with other Black people through the struggle. This struggle was not something that isolated the Black community from one another, but rather brought them closer through their unity of struggle. The Bible is a book that is full of societal norms being broken, the impossible becoming possible, and the greatest example of a man who chose to love those who others deemed unlovable. Experiencing 5

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Christ through the Bible is to experience the liberation and the barrierbreaking love that Jesus exemplifies. Cone is stating that those who are oppressed in this world are no longer oppressed but exalted in the eyes of the Lord. Jesus is the greatest example of someone who did not sin once but was consistently looked down upon, slandered, and in the end, killed. Cone’s black theology takes this stance and in turn compares it to Black people who are mistreated in history, not by doing anything wrong, but by being born with a darker skin complexion.

Other figures within the black community, such as Martin Luther King Jr., used Jesus as an example from the Bible. Cone uses King’s trip to Memphis and compares it to Mark 8:31-32, how King knew that he needed to go and be with those who were oppressed in Memphis, just like Jesus knew he needed to go to Jerusalem but would be executed there. Story after story Jesus is an example of the One who is oppressed but continues to advocate and live out His calling.

In A Black Theology of Liberation, Cone states, “Christian theology must become Black Theology, a theology that is unreservedly identified with the goals of the oppressed community and seeking to interpret the divine character of their struggle for liberation.” This is not a move for political gain, but rather the need for seeing Christ in and through the life of a Black person in America. According to The Kingdom of God, Hope and Christian Ethics, Gushsee and Norred allude that Black theology is not focused on this world or being in this world, but rather it is heavily focused on what is to come; in other words, Black theology focuses heavily on the study of eschatology. The Kingdom of God is something to hold the hope and desire of a better life away from this struggling life. The struggle and pain can be endured in this life because Jesus was an example of the holiest human to live and at the end of His time on Earth, he was seated at the right hand of God. Power over Black people can be found in and throughout every aspect of a Black body’s life. As slavery has been previously mentioned, power over the Black community has evolved further and further.

When slavery was abolished, white people still needed to find a way to have some sort of power and dominance over the group of people who were not allowed to have freedom in any way. This is when the idea of separate but equal came into play. However, even while it was separate, it was never equal. There was a school for Black people with no air conditioning, old outdated books, and teachers who were uneducated, while white people had the greatest and latest of every aspect. Buses, water fountains, restaurants, bathrooms, libraries, and just about everything else was segregated. However, as national law explained that this was equal, it was not. Slowly, but surely the apparent segregations began to intertwine with one another, but that did not mean segregation altogether was exiled. A term coined by Michelle Alexander, “the New Jim Crow,” is the idea that segregation has never really escaped from this western culture. In the current day, new manifestations have arisen to push Black bodies to be continuously oppressed. Prison Industrial Complex is the ideology that through the manifestation of the private prison system, prison owners can not only make a profit off of the prisoners being in a subpar living condition, but also strip all human rights from those who are incarcerated. Once

RELIGION & FAITH

a person is labeled as an incarcerated felon, the ability to vote, buy a house, go to college, and live normally as an American citizen is taken away from that individual and essentially leaves them with no power.

While the white community does not understand the struggle that the Black persecuted bodies experience, this does not mean complacency is the answer. Doug Schaupp furthers this discussion in his chapter “The Point of No Return” found in Being White: Finding Our Place in a Multiethnic World. This chapter further explains that once an individual chooses to follow Christ, loving enemies and all, there is no exception of who God loves, in which others should love everyone who is made in the image of God. If one follows Christ, Schaupp says that it is key to not stay in a place that feels completely comfortable, but rather place oneself in a position that would cause growth and learning experiences from someone else’s perspective.

Regarding my personal opinion, I agree with Cone and his idea that white theology can be essentially the “anti-Christ,” pulling the heart of the gospel message away from the actual practice and tradition of Christianity. I would much rather live into a faith that is accepting of my past and current struggles and pain, and still want to walk with me throughout life. A prosperity gospel message, which makes me automatically look at Joel Olsteen, is a message that is full of false promises – just smile more and you will see God working in your life, give more money to the poor and God will bless you, go to church every Sunday and be a part of every single small group, and you will finally see God’s favor. The God that I have personally come to know and love deeply in my heart is a God who wants me to approach the throne no matter what condition I am in. If I have not prayed or even acknowledged God for weeks, maybe years, the God I know is one who also suffered and was tempted, He is the God who leaves the ninetynine.

James H. Cone left an imprint and legacy is the academic and practical theology realm. He was a brilliant man who received many different degrees at Philander Smith College, Garrett Theological Seminary, and Northwestern University. As mentioned before, he spent the latter half of his life teaching in New York at Union Theological Seminary.

Some of the most recent classes he taught were Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcolm X, God and Suffering, Black Theology, and The Life and Thought of James Baldwin. While his presence will be missed, Cone’s theology and legacy lives on as a way for others to understand the importance and need for Black theology.

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RELIGION & FAITH

VISTA MAGAZINE

SUMMER 2019 ISSUE

Once a Viking...

by Jessica Tam

When initially invited to write a piece for Vista Magazine, I said, “YES!” I strive to contribute to school in any way I can as an act of service for my gratitude of education. However, I was then asked to write a religious or faith-based piece, where I responded with a much less enthusiastic “Yes.” I do not nor, would I ever wish to rub anyone the wrong way, but I fit in the population of students here who are not strictly Christian. I am aware that this is a Christian university that offers chapel services and has Christian faith-based classes woven into its curriculum; however, those two classes are the only religion-based requirements. How you practice your faith is up to you, inside or out of the church. Have I offended anyone yet?

Photo by Ethan Oliver

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Hear me out. I was born and raised in Chicago, Illinois as a Catholic.

From grades kindergarten to eighth, I attended St. Eugene’s School, home of the Vikings. This was a private Catholic-based institute decorated with crosses, crucifixes, Bible quotes, and all of the religious fixings. We were all expected to wear uniforms, contribute in morning, lunch, and afternoon prayers, participate in weekly mass and any religious sacraments and holidays. Let me emphasize, as a class, as a school, we would participate in mass during class. Our class schedules would revolve around our services. This was my education. This was my normal. I thought this was everyone’s normal. The only experience I had at other schools was my pre-school Happy Child Daycare. The only distinction I had formed was that at preschool, we practiced Spanish before lunch, at St. Eugene’s we prayed before lunch.

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I attended this school, this lifestyle up until eighth grade. This small, private, three hundred student school was basically my family. My graduating class of fifty students was the largest in the building.

We were exceptionally close as a community. The classmates you met on your first day in kindergarten were the exact faces you were graduating next to nine years later. Each student knew their classmates’ parents, their siblings, their phone number, and their home address.

With such an interactive community at hand, there was no desire to venture away from this lifestyle.

However, I was forced out of this lifestyle and into a completely opposing environment when my family and I relocated to Skokie, Illinois, and I transferred to Niles West High School, home of the Wolves, a public facility. To give you an insight of this transition, we moved four days before the school year started. A new suburb, new school, new people, new education style, no religious requirements.

Needless to say, I had a lot to process. Up until the sudden move, I was registered at Resurrection High School, the private Catholic high school that my St. Eugene’s fed into after graduation. I had my tuition payment scheduled, my classes were chosen, and uniform measured.

All I was missing were my textbooks and the first day of school. I was ready to continue living my ordinary, obedient academic life I was so accustomed to.

Niles West was massive compared to St. Eugene’s and Resurrection. This school held thousands of students and hundreds belonged to one grade opposed to the wee fifty I graduated from. This school’s curriculum did not hold any religious courses, let alone incorporate them into the daily practice. This was so odd to me. I distinctly remember in my Freshman history class we opened up the topic of religion. At Eugene’s, we did not learn about other religions besides our own; we may have brushed over them, but I fail to remember. I do remember asking what Islam was when we read Three Cups of Tea (I highly recommend reading, enjoying, and adoring and then researching the jaw-dropping scandal that surfaced years after publishing) and what Buddhism was when we attended a class yoga session. Nevertheless, I was uneducated on the matter of other main religions.

I thought Niles West would be the death of me, but, as many dreaded experiences play out, it turned out to be the exact opposite. I educated myself on different religions; I saw faces that looked like mine, faces that didn’t; I was not required to wear a uniform every day; we were not expected to attend religious ceremonies. I was given options, and I was given a choice on what I wanted to participate in. It is not that I did not enjoy participating in the Catholic practices at St. Eugene’s, but it was more expected than suggested. At Niles West, aside from the core curriculum, nothing more was expected, just suggested. Living without religious expectations allowed for the experience of other religions, an evaluation of my own, and an opportunity to build a genuine connection to my faith.

I am aware that young Jessica may sound completely and utterly naive to you, maybe she was, but be mindful of my beginning. You do not choose your religious upbringing, you are simply born into it. Sure, you may choose a different religion as you grow up and learn, but from birth, it is our parents’ or guardian’s decision. I loved my particular

RELIGION & FAITH

private Catholic upbringing. My academic upbringing, along with parental guidance, carved my reasonings of right and wrong. I learned the importance of resilience and determination but also learned compassion and mercy. My Catholic education cast the mold I was meant to grow into.

Next, on my journey, I was accepted and transferred to North Park University, home of none other than the Vikings, after graduating from Oakton Community College with my Associates of Liberal Arts Degree.

Being a transfer student, a few general education classes obviously had to be fulfilled. One was a Bible course. To reiterate, I obtained nine years of Catholic education from an elementary school that was followed by four years of public high school and two years of junior college where no religious participation was required. I felt indifferent at first. I knew nine years of Catholic teachings. However, that was during my childhood, and it had become suppressed with four years of public education and two years at a junior college. Was I still Catholic?

Was I still religious? I felt completely distant from the faith I knew and would be returning to.

The beauty of North Park University resonates in the fact that all are welcome. Yes, this is a Christian university and two religion courses are required to fulfill the general education, but no admitted student has to be Christian or even religious to be accepted. In my eyes, the two required courses are merely requested in order to form respect for Christianity whether or not you believe or practice it. I mean, that is how America operates if you want to get geographical. America does not consist of one religion, one race, one culture, but welcomes all. No one is required to adopt a religion that is not their own, but everyone is morally required to at least respect it.

Similarly, this is how my faith has adapted over the years, lifestyles, and types of education. Personally speaking, I identify as a Catholic woman.

I do not attend mass every Sunday, I do not pray before meals, and I do not recite morning and evening prayers religiously, pun intended.

I am probably what you would call a “bad” Christian. I admit my sins and by no means am I intending to showcase any form of blasphemy. I simply believe that to be a good Catholic, I do not have to be present in church to do so. Yes, I miss the services. Yes, I do not always pray aloud.

Yes, I would be analyzed as participating in sinful behavior. Yes, I am faithful. I am faithful in the way I spread happiness, the honor I hold as I practice Jesus’ Golden Rule, the responsibility I carry as I follow the Ten Commandments. I am faithful in a different manner. My morals were created by my religious background, but they were sculpted into my faith as I developed as a student, as a human, as a Catholic.

Call me a sinner, but I have never felt so in tune with my faith. It is not written across my chest, but it is obvious upon my sleeve, just the cuff is apparent over my quilted denim jacket. That is all that needs to be seen. That is all that wants to be seen. Notice it as I lend my hand to you, my neighbor. Admire it when I obey, honor, and respect you, my mother, my father, my elder. Mention it when I empathize in your story of growth, the story of hurt, a story of immigration, my sister. See it when you enjoy my kindness, my generosity for you and whoever you call family, my brother. Be mindful of it when you thank The Creator for me (whoever you believe that to be).

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SUMMER 2019 ISSUE

The Severity of the Indefinite

An Essay [or Exposé?] on Imposter-Syndrome

by Bailey Myrin

im·pos·ter syn·drome noun: imposter syndrome The persistent inability to believe that one’s success is deserved or has been legitimately achieved as a result of one’s own efforts or skills.

First of all, I must admit that in my preparing (and writing) of this article, I dealt with the very topic yet to be discussed: impostersyndrome. Although this is something I have dealt with at every level of academia, I found myself googling and reading things like “what is imposter-syndrome” in fear that my own self-experience with this is fraudulent and does not have worth in this discussion. I watched TED Talks, read silly articles, and even started reading about “overcoming imposter-syndrome.” I find it important to frame our discussion in this manner to illustrate just how pervasive this is. Now, I must acknowledge that, though I have had many disadvantages in academia -- to be discussed later on -- I have received certain privileges, such as the privilege of having my vocabulary include this term to even be able to recognize what this thing is that makes me feel fraudulent, intellectual privileges as I write to you as an individual in college who has achieved a certain amount of academic success, as well as white privilege, which is incredibly pervasive in our society built upon whitesupremacy (in which white women, like myself, have been complacent and complicit in and have actually been bringers of -- but that is for a different article entirely).

No, this is not going to be like one of those articles that I read titled something like Twenty-One Ways to Get Rid of Your ImposterSyndrome Today!! Rather, this is a personal essay wrestling with and expressing one first-generation-student’s struggle between reality and the pervasive thoughts of fraudulent, undeserving success. I do not claim to speak for anyone else in this, though, if you resonate with the words within, I am glad to have connected.

So here it is, my North Park imposter-syndrome-filled experience.

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How do you navigate the indefinite, the “should I”s when every definite feels like a mask, every accomplishment like a failure in disguise, a mistake. I sit here, full knowing that I have achieved what some would call academic success, hell -- I would even call it that, and it is what I have strived for since my first 8am class in Mag. While these are things I know in my head, as I prepare for my last year here and for my LSAT in June, I feel unworthy. I continually put-off doing my LSAT preparation as self-sabotage in fear that I could fail the LSAT, knowing full well that I have excelled on my practice exams. Yet, that question of “what-if?” and “should I?” stays. What if I fail it? What if my previous success is a fluke and my future law school professors find out I am just a big-ol’ academic fraud? Should I even do the LSAT? What would that look like for a Myrin woman to not only have more than a high school diploma but now a JD? I don’t know her; I don’t know what she even looks like.

For me, imposter-syndrome has played out in many ways. I worry that I don’t have knowledge of things that everyone else around me does.

I worry that the good grade I see posted for an exam was a mistake and meant for someone else. I don’t apply for jobs or internships that I am actually qualified for, and I live in fear of being “found out.” Of what exactly? Nothing. That’s part of the evil nature encapsulated in imposter-syndrome and is what can make academia feel really treacherous at times. Again, I can only speak for myself -- and I do not have the range to speak on how this looks and feels for BIPOC (Black/ Brown, Indigenous People of Color), or how imposter-syndrome plays out with other systems of power and oppression. That is not my lane to speak about their experiences. But, I do hope, that if this article has done anything other than complain about how hard academia can be when you feel like a fluke, I hope it has shown you how so many of your peers feel sitting in class, and how it makes people not want to do things -- how it makes them afraid to apply for things, how it makes them feel like they should drop out of school, or how it makes them feel like they’ll never amount to anything because they’re just waiting to be “found out.” I hope it makes you feel seen, if this is an experience you have, and if it isn’t, I hope you start to break down how this might play out and start to examine your academic privileges and privileges otherwise.

In the end, though, my North Park experience has taught me many things; the women around me, specifically, have shown me comradery and wit beyond belief -- people I have been able to bond with over feelings of inadequacy and thoughts of being frauds, but North Park has also taught me the severity of the indefinite, the intensity of “should I?”, the force of imposter-syndrome, the weight of institutions on individuals the institution was never designed or intended for. So, yeah, this might just be a long essay on imposter-syndrome, but at least it’s something, I think?

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VISTA MAGAZINE

Dream World

by Rebekah Law

Cultures around the world throughout the centuries have been obsessed with dreams. Dreams appear in mythology and religions. In Christianity, it was a dream that compelled Joseph to stay with Mary.

In mythology, Gilgamesh had several dreams warning him of his future.

Dreams can completely change the mood of the day. They can cause you to wake up smiling or wake up in a sweat. Humans are fascinated by the stories our minds make up as we rest at night, and it shows itself in all sorts of avenues of human existence. In psychology, dreams are a huge debate since Freudian psychology determined that they could be insightful into the subconscious. Other more recent developments in psychology will say that dreams are no more than random neurological happenings while we sleep.

The subjects of psychology, Christianity, and mythology in how they relate to dreaming is fascinating to me, but not my area to give any insight on. The most fascinating subject to me in relation to dreams is art. This has been a subject I have been well aware of for awhile, but it has recently become more relevant to me, as it keeps popping up in classes and my personal life. I myself have drawn and painted themes from my dreams and once took a month to keep a relatively extensive visual dream journal. While I cannot give many answers to what dreams mean, I find that they have a special ability to provoke interest no matter what the belief on them may be. I started noticing that in art history, particularly in more recent art history, dreams pop up a lot as a subject. Some of the earlier examples would be in the Renaissance or 19th century art history with Francisco Goya’s “The Dream of Reason Produces Monsters” or “The Nightmare” by Henry Fuseli. More modern work includes Salvador Dali, Henri Rousseau, Pablo Picasso, and Henri Matisse who all had works addressing an interest in dreams.

One of my favorite qualities about dream artwork is its ability to be

relatable while simultaneously making us aware that the experience is not shared. Dreams sometimes come from a wild imagination, and no two dreams are the same. While the experience of dreaming is shared, the dreams themselves are entirely unique to the individual who dreamed them. From gorey night terrors to fantastical ideal stories, dreams are individually intriguing.

I decided to make a dream journal because I was having really weird dreams. I had made a few drawings of some really poignant ones that had stuck with me, and I made a small series of those dreams in a printmaking class. I started noticing that when I translated the dreams into a physical image that I could tangibly touch, my mind was much more at peace with the strangeness of them, and the dreams became less disturbing. When I made that realization, I decided to do a 30-day project on my dreams. I only have 27 drawings from the project because the dreams stopped. I had to draw dreams from my past that I had written about for the last week and a half because I wasn’t dreaming memorable things anymore. I have written in the past about art being an outlet for experiences, emotions, meditations, or spirituality, but it has also become a tool of relatability. After making the art, friends started telling me their strange dreams too. I have no answers about what dreams could mean and can hardly give an opinion on their use or cause, but I have found that whatever the meaning or cause, they are worth sharing. Processing through the strange things the resting mind can come up with through a form of art is not only beneficial to the person experiencing the dreams, but when shared, can help others process through the same things.

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RELIGION & FAITH

What Did He See in Me?

by Kayla Sutton

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Photo by Ethan Oliver

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During the time of preparation, I as a Black woman, shared my truth and what I bring to the table as it relates to CRUX. I shared the frustration I have been feeling all throughout the first semester as well as the stagnant comfortability people were in spiritually, emotionally, and mentally. I brought to light that I felt like I embraced every one of them to my fullest being and that it wasn’t being reciprocated when it came to embracing who I am as an individual. I expressed that “true discipleship” was not always being comfortable in circumstances, rather than constantly rejecting our selfish will and surrendering to the will of God, being that his plan is way bigger than what we may see. In other words, discipleship is not always something you can glaze over and use to sugarcoat real life issues, but that the true essence of discipleship is addressing hard truths and processing the uncomfortable realities that we face on a daily basis as Christians.

“CRUX, an intentional, transformational living and learning cohort....”

“Students will experience Christ formed in them and participate in the revealed and unfolding Kingdom of God.” Those words clicked with me in ways that I could not fully understand at the time. Something within me knew it was God calling me deeper.

However, I did not fully grasp what I was getting myself into or what I was about to experience. I knew my life would never be the same.

Coming to North Park University I felt that I had an appropriate assumption of what college life and discipleship would entail. I understood there was going to be diversity on at some level on campus, some very religious collegemates, and staff, extroverts and introverts, etc. But who knew coming into my first year of college that I would be the only African-American woman in this all-white discipleship cohort?! I thought to myself, “Kayla, are you really doing this?” “Is this even for you?” “Have you misheard God in this?” All these questions were stirring up in my head and somehow, I still chose to go through with it.

Next thing I knew I was being driven up to Minnesota for a week-long spiritual retreat surrounded by nothing but the forest. During that drive, I pleaded with God and asked him to help me because, in all reality, I am just a girl from the south side of Chicago. I am always up for something new, but this was way out of my comfort zone! Time progressed and I began to see God in the most beautiful ways. God began to reveal himself to me more intimately and showed me some of my purposes. From the intense classes to the canoeing and hiking, I experienced God in such ways that I never had before.

RELIGION & FAITH

“

There were even disagreements to the point of removing myself. I could not allow myself to get to a point of coming out of my character, so I cried by myself, away from the group. To say that I was “angry” would be an understatement of what I was feeling at that time., and I knew I couldn’t allow myself to act upon what I was feeling. I was under a lot of confusion and asking God why again and again. Why did God choose me? I was looking at myself from a lens where I did not feel equipped to handle all of this. Somehow, there was still some light from where all I saw was darkness and loneliness.

...the true essence of discipleship is addressing hard truths and processing the uncomfortable realities that we face on a daily basis as Christians.

As the semester progressed, and I continued gaining all these perspectives of the church and how people worship God, I became overwhelmed and misunderstood. I felt like I had a voice, but I did not.

I began to feel like nobody understood what my perspective was when it came to social life, spirituality and how I worship, and me overall as an individual. I felt like I was willing to hear and embrace everyone else’s story, but when it came to me expressing who I am, I always had to break down everything I was feeling or thinking when we would come together. That experience alone was draining, exhausting, and frustrating to the utmost extent.

There were times where I felt like I needed to go back home and just be in the presence of people who look like me, so I would not feel alone in this faith walk. Nevertheless, looking back, I believe God was preparing me for this big interruption that happened at the beginning of the second semester. The Sankofa trip is an emotional and physical experience in the southern part of the United States concerning African- American history, or rather, how America’s history relates to the African-American experience and the struggle that the oppressed peoples of that time endured. The trip itself looks back at AfricanAmerican history and the parallels of how the past still affects the present.

”

In all honesty, there were plenty of times where I wanted to admit defeat and just give up. I found myself constantly telling and demanding God to remind me why he called me here in the first place. As I write this now and look back, I see who and where I was last semester as compared to now. Back then, I was open-minded but in fear, willing but hesitant, understanding but misunderstood. I believe that if I knew then what I know now, there would be no question of what God was going to do. However, I see that now this experience was to kill selfishness within me in ways that, at the time, were unimaginable or unthinkable.

So, how did I make it through CRUX? The beauty of it was that God was and still is gracefully crushing me to build me back up. He is allowing me to see that my labor, blood, sweat, and tears are not in vain. I had to see my suffering and anguish as planting something for the students coming after me that may come from my background. My experience would allow them to reap the harvest from my laboring and self-transformation for the glory of God. That is what has kept pushing me to go on. I renew my “yes” to God constantly and seek him always, regardless of the situation. Resting in knowing who I am and whose I am, always brings a sense of peace that is unexplainable.

“And the peace of God [that peace which reassures the heart, that peace] which transcends all understanding, [that peace which] stands guard over your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus [is yours]” - Philippians 4:7 (Amplified Version).

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VISTA MAGAZINE

Turning

Turning the Page by Brandon Davis

the

Page

by Brandon Davis

A young girl, not even a year old, was sitting in her dad’s lap reading one of those children’s books with the cardboard pages. Her dad was talking with a friend as he held tight to her legs. You could tell she was daydreaming about living on a farm and petting the animals she was looking at in the book. Sometimes I wish I still had an imagination that sharp. Regardless, you could tell she was ready for the next great, big adventure on the pages to follow, so she attempted to turn the page by herself but could not seem to grip the cardboard enough to turn it. At this point, any other child would call the attention of their parent by crying, yelling, or resorting to the infamous temper tantrum. However, she sat back quietly, assessed the situation, and started pointing out things on the page she hadn’t previously seen and began to create an entirely different fantasy, while still looking at the same page.

I say all this, not to inform you that I spend my time analyzing other people’s children, but because I think there is value in what that little girl did. There have been plenty of times in my Christian life where I felt as though I was ready to move on to something different, or create something new in my life because I was tired of feeling, acting, or experiencing what I was in the moment. And guess what happened with all my efforts for change? Nothing. I stayed exactly where I was, and nothing different seemed to ever be on the horizon. And what do you think I did? I pouted, complained, and tried to make any excuse I could as to why I deserved whatever I was striving for, without any mention of what God might have wanted for me.

When I saw the pure, authentic joy of that young girl, it made me rethink my strategy of handling the “season” I am in (apologies for the “churchy” word). It also made me think about the plans that God might have for me, and the simple fact that God doesn’t want me to “turn the page” as quickly as I might want to. Maybe I was missing something, like the little girl was, and all I needed to do was sit back, reassess, and find something new from a fresh, God-centered perspective.

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I was told once that it doesn’t matter what I was doing, as long as I kept Jesus at the center of it. God will see that and use it to bless others because I am a vessel of God, who is shown through me. What I gained from this nugget of wisdom was the perspective that I didn’t always have to keep moving forward to continue to please God or move up the “righteousness” ladder (not that one has ever existed). I can be exactly I can be exactly in the place I’m in and still be a blessing to others and shine the light of Jesus through my interactions. At the end of the day, isn’t that what life should be about?

Eugene Peterson paraphrased Romans 8 beautifully by stating: “Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn’t matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans.

He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good” (MSG 8:26-28).

There is a reason God wants us to have faith like a child in our daily walk with Him. Like that little girl, no matter if she never turned the page and was stuck in the waiting, she knew her father was right behind her holding her legs so she would never fall too far from his protection and love. Eventually, her father turned the page for her, and she was off on another adventure. If you steward what you are given, and thank God in the midst of it, a life of wonder and amazement will no doubt be the outcome.

SUMMER 2019 ISSUE

VISTA MAGAZINE

COMMENTARY

The White Savior Complex and Progressive White Politics

by Jake Whitfeld I am often bored by Saturday Night Live’s repetitive political commentary and cringeworthy “humor;” however, I found myself entertained and amused by an SNL skit with extremely poignant satire.

The audience was led to believe that there was a break in skits, and Leslie Jones and Kenan Thompson were honoring past Black SNL cast members in celebration of Black History Month. Just as they were getting started, Kyle Mooney drops in to whitesplain the contribution of Black artists. He continues to speak over the Black actors and show off his very detailed, obviously recently discovered, knowledge of Black history. Although humorous to see done by actors, it was eye-opening when compared to observations made about White progressives.

A study released by Gallup last month revealed that that the percent of Democrats that self- identify as “liberal” has increased by 14% from 2001 to 2018, and those that identify as moderate or conservative has decreased by 13%, over the same time period. Simply, the Democratic party has become more progressive. The second part of the study found that not all groups in the Democratic party are shifting at the same rate.

The two groups that have shifted the most are White Democrats and College Graduates. This trend is extremely relevant to the SNL skit.

Progressivism today is led by White elites.

The White Savior Complex is most closely associated with mission trips. White Americans often feel as though their vacations to impoverished countries is somehow beneficial to the people they visit.

Nothing on the trip is without Instagram documentation, and their objectification of the people they visit is both dehumanizing and selfserving. Just as a one week visit to Uganda does absolutely nothing to help any Ugandans, White progressives out-woking each other on college campuses is not done with any real interest for improving the lives of minorities in the United States. Both of these realities are not only pointless, they are harmful.

Just as impoverished peoples in Central America and Africa don’t need White, American college students to come help them, people of color in the United States don’t need White political elites to speak for them. Progressive politics should be about empowering the most marginalized, not giving White people platforms to make them feel good about themselves with ideas and policies that are beneficial to no one.

The study is entitled “Understanding Shifts in Democratic Party Ideology” and was published by Gallup in 2019

As White Progressives shift the political culture further left, they risk abandoning the most marginalized people in the United States. For a party, and a people, that claim to speak for others, they know very little of those they claim to speak for. This image of White elites is parallel to another cultural trend: The White Savior Complex.

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Medellín Una Ciudad con Esperanza

by Abby Imperial

Medellín—I don’t even know how to think about you. I was in awe of such a land, gushing blue skies, mountains and hills, vegetation swarming over the sides of weak fenced-in boundaries, pouring vibrant fruits and luscious greenery over cracked sidewalks. But it made me uncomfortable to see the intense poverty and desperation. It made me shrink back to know that I am returning to my affluent university, while you are remaining in the fight for peace and humanity. And it made me uneasy to converse with your people about peace and restoration, knowing that they probably know a hundred million times more than I do, and some of them are only 15 years old.

I went wearing my collegiate, North Park hat, and they asked us questions as if we’ve ever wrestled with their same issues; as if I’ve ever been wrecked by displacement and threats to my life; as if I’ve ever wondered where my next meal was or where I would find water; as if my country were recovering from a decades long civil war. And I listened to their answers, their stories, and realized that I am the one who knows nothing about peace, about conciliation, about renewal and forgiveness and perseverance. Not on the same scale as them.

There are old women who carry with them heavy burdens of loss,fear, displacement, and who have found the courage to speak what they know to be true—to give voice to the nightmares and body to the danger that they may slay them.

There are men who passionately work in prisons and in schools to recover what was lost for so many years in so many men—humanity.

These are the workers of true peace and reconciliation.

Those words that I’ve just thrown out onto the page, peace and reconciliation, are so trite in our community that is so inundated with the pursuit of justice. But this peace that they are after is not something small or easy. They are striving to resurrect their land: to bring homes for the displaced and forgiveness to the displacer; to offer work for the impoverished and understanding to the rich; to seek health for the sick, rest for the healers, safety for the children, and food to the hungry; to bring life to those who were left for dead!

So why does this matter? It matters because of their people.

There are young girls who have taken up the banner of peace in their impoverished neighborhood, who long to see change. They are not just speaking out in anger but are moving and acting and changing the injustices they see.

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Alex is a pastor in Colombia, and was taken hostage, tied up with 25 others, shot, and left for dead. While those around him were pleading for their lives, and being killed, he said he realized he had not shared

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Jesus with the armed men yet. So, he yelled “Jesus loves you!” while his throat filled up with blood and his body was being torn, because the message of peace was more important than him escaping death.

Nancy is an indigenous woman who was told by an 8-year-old armed child-soldier that she had to leave her home or be forced—she was displaced three times. Her husband disappeared, and she had to learn how to provide for and raise up her family. She tells her story amidst pain and wrenching emotion because to tell her story is to remember and to heal.

Jovita is a Colombian woman whose husband, daughter, and son-in law were killed in the midst of the civil war. She was forced to leave her home and all her possessions, and move, alone, to an unknown neighborhood. She lives and tells her story because she has found that to memorialize her loss, and to recall what was stolen, helps her find forgiveness and rest from the demons, because God has given her story the power to redeem.

Jovita in front of her home in Granizal

“

They are the voices, the people, the histories we must hold, examine, and respect.

” Cathy is a woman who felt the call of God in her life and left all that she knew to move to Colombia, in the midst of its civil war. When war was at her doorstep, she stayed; when her work caused her pain and sickness, she stayed; when she was alone and confused, she stayed, because the calling to bring holistic healing to the people in Colombia was stronger than her need to feel safe, or whole, or comfortable.

Alex telling his story

I learned that these are stories that need to be told. There are voices that are courageous enough to recall the horror of the past, that are bold enough to speak up and remember. They are the voices, the people, the histories we must hold, examine, and respect.

Here in college we have the privilege to expand our vision and understanding and to be directed towards myriads of paths and futures that more than half the world is not open to. And with this privilege we must be able to understand our inherent connection to people like those in Medellin, Colombia. As human beings, their story is a part of ours. We are intrinsically connected so that what happens to them must be significant to us.

Medellín is no longer the murder capital of the world, or one of the most dangerous cities. It is a city in the midst of renovation and revitalization. And these people are not just poor, broken, and hurting from their past; they are the ones who lead the fight in strength towards a new and reconciled neighborhood, city, and country. And we must learn from them.

Nancy at Manos

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Senior Reflections

Senior Reflections 17

Photo by Ethan Oliver

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COMMENTARY

This was My North Park

by Stephen Nielsen

I came into North Park with the intention of becoming an author in four years. Now, as I graduate with my BA in English, I’m pursuing a career in Digital Marketing. It may seem like a 180, but it is also what inspired an entrepreneurial spirit. This came through starting this campus magazine: Vista. I have held many internships and jobs since I came to North Park, and all have helped me decide on a career path.

I think the most important thing to do at North Park is to work at as many different places as you can and have time for. Vary the industries you choose to work in and build connections. I learned some of this through founding and leading Vista, as my primary role is almost exclusively administrative. It also means building relationships with different constituencies on campus and marketing the brand of Vista.

Photo by Ethan Oliver

When Vista started, we brought people on our team with a wide range of abilities and skill-sets. When most people hear about Vista, or that we pay students, most assume that we’re all English majors. Or that English majors are the only students interested. This couldn’t be more wrong, as only two of nine current Vista employees are English majors; the rest are BTS, graphic design, physics, music majors, and more.

We do this through exposing students to the opinions and views of their peers. Stories and articles Vista has published have been used in classrooms by professors, and we’re proud because that means that North Parkers have legitimate stories and personal experiences which matter.

At Vista, only three positions strictly work with writing. To run an effective business, we need marketers, designers, digital media, and a balanced budget. We don’t have to worry about securing funding from outside sources, which makes all of our jobs easier, but it’s still real work, and dependent on our attitudes to learn from these experiences.

North Park is a place with a lot of diversity, but also a lot of under representation in thought, politics, religion, and more. I hoped for Vista to be the outlet to give everyone a chance to start real conversations about differences in their world views. Our magazine seems to be widely respected among faculty and staff, and my hope is that we can bridge the disconnect I so often see between student body and administration.

We must convince people that what we publish is worth your time and brain space. You’re reading my article, so I hope you’re finding this interesting. Vista is not “just a student magazine;” it is a place where students of different interests and backgrounds work together for a common goal: to improve North Park’s campus.

We all have an idea of what truth and righteousness are. The mission of Vista was and is to promote thoughtful and engaging public debate through opinion articles, by publishing creative pieces of writing, and to explore complex issues related to faith.

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SUMMER 2019 ISSUE

Becoming a Home

by Anosh Wasker

When I went back to India for the second time, it was different than before; I didn’t miss my home in the same way. I wasn’t just collecting memories to savor later; I was also living in the moment and allowing myself to experience reality in a different way. A way that was both foreign and familiar. I knew I’d felt this way before, but I couldn’t remember when. I carried this feeling back to North Park that following fall. It has never gone away, but I have come close to giving it words.

The meaning of home has changed for me. Home now exists in relationship rather than a place. It is in something more real than an address. 120/77 Dakpatti, Rajpur, Dehradun isn’t my home, and neither is 3228 W Carmen Ave Apt3W. It is my relationship with my parents, friends, with my professors, co-workers; it is with community. You see home, now, is a choice just as community is a choice. It is a choice to be part of one, a choice to let others be part of it, and a choice to trust the other.

Photo by Ethan Oliver

As I sit to write this reflection, I’ve realized that this semester has taken its toll and senioritis has hit me hard. When I came to North Park in the fall of 2015, I couldn’t have imagined what lay ahead of me. The joys and struggles both have made me the person that I am. To recall one thing that’s changed and has deeply impacted me in my outlook of life is my understanding of home and comfort. Choosing just one thing wasn’t an easy task as anyone who has had to do the same thing can testify to.

By the time this gets published, I will have certainly changed my mind; nevertheless, here it is.

I did not want to study in the U.S. because there was a stereotype growing up, with good reason, that if you did, your family probably had a lot of money. My family did not have a lot of money, and I refused to dream what I couldn’t see. Aren’t dreams exactly that, though? The stereotype perpetuated a dismissal of the harsh realities of a life once lived, and I was certainly not willing to turn my back on my home. The land of my birth was too precious and yet, my path led me to North Park University. How I got here is a long story, but I hope it will suffice to say that it involved doors opening at the right time that made it clear that this was where the Lord wanted me for the next four years. I soon got involved in different activities on campus and took the opportunities of leadership that came my way.

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My community at North Park has involved people that don’t look like me or think like me. They share different experiences and bring to light different parts of my own story. A healthy community has helped me to be who I was meant to be by challenging me to wrestle with the difficulties of life as well as providing a place to seek comfort. It is in this transformed community that I’ve felt at home and now I’m preparing for change.

Home feels distant often times, and as I approach graduation, it is more uncertain than ever. I am left restless, grappling for meaning. I anticipate the loss of community, and I fear losing friendships -- the disruption of my home. Graduation can feel like being evicted from home and left in the open to find refuge. People run to many things in their distress. I too run and oddly enough it is in those moments of polemic struggle that I find peace through my journey of faith.

The central idea of Christianity is relationship. It is the relationship between the Father and the Son, a pure and real relationship that is made flesh in us. Ultimately, it is an invitation to become a home. You are at home when you are a home. This ideal becomes reality when it is lived out.

My pursuit of living this out has led me to a possible answer to a question I asked myself a few months ago: “How does one live life?” My understanding of home and comfort are transforming even now, and I think it’s okay that I can only explain it through a journey.

SUMMER 2019 ISSUE

VISTA MAGAZINE

COMMENTARY

This is the Most Vulnerable Thing I’ve Written

by Kaylyn Sweitzer If college has taught me anything, it’s how to be human. To admit that you’re not always going to have everything together, that you’re usually just faking it until you make it. To admit that you’ve never been perfect, not even close, and that your flaws and scars are the things that make you shine so brightly in this world. To realize that you need help and must rely on others to lift you up. To realize that being vulnerable is the only way you’ll form a deep connection with someone.

As an Enneagram Type 1 Perfectionist, it’s always been difficult for me to express my emotions; it’s always been easier to bury them and act as though I have everything together all the time. Upon entering my senior year, I finally realized just how unhealthy that can be. I become so fixated on perfection and believing that nothing is ever good enough that I miss out on the perfect things God’s been doing in my life.

For years, I’ve tried to separate my emotions from my public life – tears were reserved for the bedroom late at night when no one was around to see me physically reacting to a feeling. Much like everyone’s favorite snow queen Elsa, I’ve told myself to “conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know.”

I like for people to believe that I have my life together, even if it is a lie.

When people ask how I’m doing, I say that I’m “Great!” or “Terrific!” and then directly turn the focus back to them. I don’t know the last time I’ve answered that question truthfully. Even when on the rare occasion I’m willing to share how I’m truly feeling, I struggle to form words to express it. I end up making inaudible noises and switch the topic to something safe – something not about me.

I don’t know why it’s always been so hard to talk about myself and my emotions. I guess I’ve never liked for people to see that side of me, and I’ve never wanted to burden others with what I am going through. It’s been a form of self-preservation – take care of yourself by not expressing your true self.

Over the past four years, friends have told me that it’s okay to be vulnerable with them, and in fact, they’ve encouraged it (sometimes to the point where they sit me down and force me to express how I’m feeling – needless to say, I have loyal friends), and I now feel as though I have permission to express the wide range of emotions God has given me. This big heart of mine is meant to feel things deeply, and I’ve been sheltering it for far too long. I give you permission to feel things deeply, too.

I’m also learning to extend just as much grace to myself as I do to others.

Not everything I do is going to live up to the standards I’ve blinded myself with, standards that are rooted in the high-achieving culture I grew up in.

In high school, I was never enough, not even my 4.01 GPA was enough; despite any number of grades and accomplishments, I was always viewed as average.

Photo by Ethan Oliver

But in God’s eyes, I will always be above average, even when I don’t think I deserve it, especially when I don’t deserve it. God removes the standards I’ve placed upon myself and instead of placing bars above my head to limit and constrain, He presents me with an open field – free to be and free to love.

In life, the risks we regret are the ones we don’t take. The things we avoid because they’re uncomfortable and unfamiliar. The things that are easier to run away from than to face. So long as I’m running towards God, it’s a life worth racing.

Recently, a friend shared a Zulu phrase with me: Somlandela. It means “I will follow.” The future is often seemingly a dark and bleak path, but it’s only bleak when I don’t bother to look towards the light. Christ’s guiding light is the reason that I can be a light to others. And even though I’m leaving North Park, God will be where I go, and He’ll plant me to bloom with grace.

As my time here comes to an end, I fondly think of a line by my favorite silly ol’ bear: “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard” – Winnie the Pooh. It’s with bittersweet emotions that I prepare to say farewell to the place that has become my home away from home, and the thing is...I am now able to acknowledge and express these feelings.

Thank you, North Park, for shaping me and helping me to grow, and praise God for being with me every step of the journey.

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COMMENTARY

VISTA MAGAZINE

SUMMER 2019 ISSUE

I Know Less Than When I Started: A Relfection on my time at North Park

by Jake Whitfield

Photo by Ethan Oliver

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I envision the cultivation of the mind through learning to be like the development of a city. Our minds, like cities, begin as primitive developments. Our few needs and intellectual desires are met by simple structures. As our minds grow, our needs become more complex and the structures that occupy the space reflect that. Old structures are torn down to make room for the better, more complex. The process of growth requires destruction but also rebirth. In short, learning is the constant tear down and rebuilding of the mind.

Skepticism is good. Beliefs should be questioned and refined. It is difficult, however, when the destruction caused by skepticism is not matched by productivity and the building of new ideas. Views in alignment with Biblical Orthodoxy and Classical Liberalism have very little support on campus. I welcomed the questions North Park has brought me in these areas, but the philosophy that created these questions is only defined by what it’s against. In short, it is easier to find out what you shouldn’t believe than what you should believe at North Park.

North Park is great at breaking down old structures but lacks in helping the student build back up. My experience at North Park has done to my mind what the Great Fire did to Chicago. Almost every structure in my mind, representative of values, beliefs, and opinions, has been torn down by North Park. Every aspect of my belief system has been questioned and many times, but not all, the questioning has led to destruction. I came in to North Park with a healthy civilization in my mind. The world made sense; I had a pretty stable worldview.

I came to North Park, and my simple civilization of a mind burned to the ground.

Where I am today is not solely North Park’s doing, as I posses the responsibility of discovery on my own. I only wish North Park was as effective in providing answers as it was at inspiring questions. The rebuilding of the intellectual framework of my mind is only beginning as I leave North Park. I have little confidence in any one worldview, leaving me lost and confused. I will forever be grateful for the questions North Park has made me ask; I only wished for some help at finding the answers.

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Photo by Ethan Oliver

VISTA MAGAZINE

COMMENTARY

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COMMENTARY

VISTA MAGAZINE

SUMMER 2019 ISSUE

The Sunrise Club

by Rebecca Conner I woke up before you that morning. After I whispered you awake, you grabbed your duffel, and I grabbed my car keys. I turned the car out onto the street before the sun even started to rise, you beside me in the passenger seat, sky still dark and broken only by the glowing bulbs of street lights. We drove up the highway as the sky just started to light, trees on either side, talking. I don’t remember what we talked about. Maybe about our schools and friends, our families, maybe work -- probably what it was like to miss someone who you’ll never see again.

Though this was the first time we lost the same person, we had both lost people before. We were already schooled in the vocabulary of loss.

Now, we are driving together back to your home. Though we are talking about anything else, I know we are both thinking against the background of quiet murmurs about the people we loved and lost, especially her. The girl we both came to say goodbye to, the reason we were together, sitting in the car as the sky flipped through shades of pink and orange. She was there, and then she was gone, and there was no grand celestial announcement to mark her departure as it felt there should have been. How could we have known she would leave? How do you keep going when you can no longer trust the people around you to stay, as they are, close to you?

When we reached the valley, the snow geese spread themselves across the frosty grass, and mountains were dark cutouts against the slowly brightening orange sky. I remember seeing the moon, small and white and still on the horizon. The mist was just beginning to lift, so the air was foggy and fragile.

Perhaps Mary Oliver had the answer for us, the answer to our longing to ask those we love to stay forever, even when we know they cannot.

She knew the answer when she told us that

There is a kinship in grief, a bond forged by the secret society of “being young and knowing what it was like to have someone you love die.” This wasn’t the sort of club anyone applied for, and the letter for acceptance was traded for the continued existence of a person in your life, despite all and any protests filed. We found our letters at home on the table one day, or handed to us on a street corner on the way to meet a friend at the coffee shop on the corner, or after visiting the hospital for the third time that week. I didn’t even know what it would mean to receive such a letter until I got my first letter my freshman year of college, when my best friend died sometime in the night in his dorm room. And when you joined me, confused and shaken two years later, I welcomed you with a quiet nod, and an offer to sit in space with you if you ever needed it.

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“To live in this world you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go.”

The act of life necessitates death; there is no life to love without death.

We who are left behind must let go of our hopes in order to be a truthful witness to the life of those we love. To be honest about someone in our witness is not possible when we still hold onto the things we wanted, those things that are not, those things that will never be.

For it does not matter how tightly we hold them; they leave anyways.

We both will not let them go, but we must let them go. We cannot imagine going further on this road; my foot stays on the pedal, and we continue our course. And we are not always crying, for sometimes memories are not needles but pour from our mouths in laughter.

SUMMER 2019 ISSUE SPRING 2019 ISSUE

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RELIGION RELIGION && FAITH FAITH

Sunago Sunago by Maddy Widman

by Maddy Widman

“Sunago” is a Hebrew term meaning “to lead together.” The idea of community has been deeply embedded in Western Christian history ever since piety. We have gathered together to uncover truths about humanity and the perspectives of different backgrounds seen in the Bible. Being a white female, I will experience something completely different than what a black male would experience. My story will look different, my perspective will be unique, and my experience as a child of God will be written distinctively to my person, just the same as a male would have a unique perspective.

This idea of gathering together to understand each other and ourselves has been planted in Western origin since the humble beginnings of piety. But what does a community actually look like? Christians love saying “Let’s do life together.” But what does this actually mean?

Living in community sounds like a wonderful Christ-led experience in which we can gather around a pot of coffee and study the Bible. This is all good and dandy, but community is so much more than simple description. Community is hard. Community is sharp with edges you cannot see until you immerse yourself in it. Community is filled with problems and disagreements and struggles. To live in community with other people, specifically, people who have different experiences, life stories, and perspectives, is truthfully, difficult. It takes a great amount of strength to humble oneself and to admit the need for help and growth. However, the outcome from this struggle is something of intense beauty that allows us to actually look at the drastically different

That is why North Park University is envisioning a first-ever pietybased, living community known as a “Sunago.” To live into this idea of Sunago, students will live together in an apartment complex, doing the hard work to uncover what it really means to live in a Christ-filled idea of community. Jesus called twelve disciples to live in community with Him, and you can bet that they varied in personality and life experience. This only enriched the possibility of action in the group and allowed everyone to be represented. The North Park Sunago will have monthly meetings in our homes and welcome a guest speaker to form a discussion among the group about a specific topic for that month.

This year we will be uncovering the question “What does community actually look like? And how can I both learn and teach in this setting?”

There will be short article, podcast, or TedTalk assignment to read or watch before each monthly meeting to be better prepared for the discussion that month. There will also be optional weekly Bible studies and worship nights that will be open to the whole North Park community (meaning those outside the Sunago). It is time for us to actually discover what it means to “Do life TOGETHER!” This community will begin to be together in the 2020-2021 academic year. All majors and denominations are welcome. If you are interested in hearing more, please contact Maddy Widman at mgwidman@northpark.edu.

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ARTS & CULTURE

VISTA MAGAZINE

SUMMER 2019 ISSUE

The Color of Joy

by Elayna Swickard

My feet hit Honduran soil for the first time, as I stepped off the plane with my fellow North Park University classmates. I’d spent time in vibrant Latin America in previous years, but Honduras was a new stamp in my passport. The vivid and intense colors of this beautiful country caught my eye before anything else could. These colors are unlike any simple aesthetic color scheme in the States. They’re alive. They tell a story. They dance along the walls, lining the cobblestone streets where the working class walk countless miles in blazing heat to provide a life for their little ones. They are painted on hand-crafted pottery on the side of the road where artists sit beneath the shade selling their work to those passing by. At the end of the road where the sky touches the ground, the brightest blue one has ever seen stands in firm contrast against the dark beaten path, the path that hundreds of Hondurans walk, bike, and drive on as early as seven in the morning to start their demanding day of work. I was about to have a first-hand experience in this country that receives so much hate through the media and word of mouth. Walking and talking alongside the locals, I couldn’t wait to understand the daily encounters, struggles, and practices of a Honduran, but most importantly, provide my helping hands in the communities where they are most needed.

My day of medical work started promptly at nine a.m. in the village 25

of Pueblo Nuevo in the south of Honduras. Our bus hauled the entire team of medical students from North Park University along with Honduran doctors and the staff of Global Brigades, the organization through which we went. For the entirety of spring break, I volunteered alongside these big-hearted people, providing free health and dental care for four days, then on a public health project for the last three days. The doctors of the trip showed us students everything there is to know about working in the health field, especially in impoverished communities. Throughout the day of medical work, students were assigned to different stations (consultation, pharmacy, dentistry, etc.) and got to experience each particular type of work. Seeing families come in—some with large smiles plastered on their faces, others not so much—was a humbling experience. Sure, an ear-piercing screech from a child scared of the stethoscope was still heard every now and then, but these people were utterly joyful for our service. No entitlement exuded from their auras. Everyone was genuine and gracious.

As I sat beside the dentist, handing her tools I would have run from at the sight of as a child, I couldn’t help but grin. This beautiful child in front of me looked at me with painful fear in his eyes which was softened by his forgiving smile. His mom held his body down full force as the dentist penetrated his gums with her syringe of anesthetics.

SUMMER 2019 ISSUE

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An agonizing scream from the bottom of his lungs sent a jolt through his body. The muscles in his jaw popped out, as he clenched his teeth tight and was forced back down into the chair. The second shot finally opened his tear ducts. Two more shots. This poor boy was in more pain than he could bear. As the numbing power of the anesthetic eventually calmed his cries and the veins popping out of his temples, a few tears still rolled down his cheeks.

A mouth full of blood and a face full of tears and suddenly this boy looks at me and gives me the same soft smile. In this very moment, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of candy and gave it to me. This boy who should have been allowed to pick extra toys out of the treasure chest at the dentist’s office was giving me a piece of candy. I hesitantly took it, shocked at what was happening.

Not only was his timing heart-warming, but this candy he was freely giving probably did not come in abundance. For the rest of the time his legs sat in the chair, he patiently waited for the dentist to be done filling cavities. Pretty soon lunch rolled around, and everyone paused their work to rehydrate and re-energize, but I still couldn’t let go of this sweet boy whose name I did not even know. This experience made me remember why I decided to go on this trip in the first place. When

ARTS & CULTURE

the boy gave me candy, he did it from the desire of his own heart. I definitely was not expecting it, but the act itself gave me immense joy.

The trip to Honduras was an opportunity to help those who are sick and in need, yes. However, I was able to learn that a soft smile goes a long way, and a small piece of chocolate can stir child-like glee. There was so much delight that went far beyond taking someone’s blood pressure. If we go into a situation with one goal in mind, we miss out on every little piece of unexpected joy, but going in with open eyes and an open heart can change the game. Learning how to not only look, but to see is a hidden treasure in life. This concept is not one they teach you in elementary school, or even high school. I wouldn’t even testify that this art is acquired. Seeing with an open heart is given to us as children.

Somewhere in the process of growing up, though, our lenses constrict.

We don’t always view the world in vibrant colors or through smiles past tears. However, the practice of traveling and selflessly serving others reinvigorates this youthful jubilation. When I vulnerably stepped on the Honduran ground, the shields of my eyes unsealed, and not until then was I truly able to appreciate all the colors of joy.

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ARTS & CULTURE

VISTA MAGAZINE

SUMMER 2019 ISSUE

The Age of Highbrow Horror

by Emmanuel Carrillo

So, I was an easily startled kid1. I’d jump at anything so long as it was loud and sudden, and I was scared of most things.

Definitely a deep-seated Latino Protestantism2 induced fear of the non-Godly on top of my general jumpy nature. From an early age, though, I was fascinated by “the strange and the unusual.” Alien documentaries3? Mini-series about obscure cryptids? Hour-long specials on the esoteric traditions of ancient civilizations? Yes please. I eventually became fascinated by scary movies as well despite my easily-startled tendencies4.

Well, supernatural movies (I’m still not big on slasher films).

It wasn’t my fault though. I didn’t suddenly fall off the spiritual wagon and sign my name in the Black Book. The world around me just became the right breeding ground for what I deem The Age of Highbrow Horror. I’d argue that there have been three waves of high-level horror, each corresponding to sociopolitical unrest: the 1920s (@Deutschland), the 1980s (Neoliberal Tidal Wave), and the 2010s (whatever the h#ck future historians will call this era). Sure, you have a few carefully constructed scary movies each decade, but nothing like the artistic onslaught of the 2010s. A big part of this horror renaissance is that marginalized people been given more opportunities to show how gnarly and crazy their specific

anxieties can be. See, being a person of color5 or a woman6 or a member of any marginalized group in a world dominated by white guys is scary, and recent horror movies have been forcing people to confront this fear in some extreme but necessary ways7. Ultimately though, this era in horror is due to the fact that We the People have been extra scared these past ten or so years. I have, and I bet you have been too. Even Mr.FreelanceCoder-Eating-Quinoa-In-Gentrified-Neighborhood8 is just as scared as Mr.God-And-Country-And-Yes-My-Truck-Too. We all know that big society-level things feel off, but we don’t know what to do. The dissonant music is swelling, and the door is slowly opening, but we don’t know what’s waiting for Us on the other side.

The level of risks and the degree of imagination which have flooded our theatres at the hands of weirdos trying to freak us out is truly astounding9. And yeah, times are still tough, and I still startle easily, and no I’m not actually a horror aficionado by any means, but I am grateful to have grown up alongside some of the most uniquely twisted, uncomfortably relevant horror movies ever. The future of the horror genre remains as unpredictable as ever but let us rejoice in fear while we can10.

1. See Julio Torres’ SNL skit “Wells for Boys” for a caricatured account; I was only maybe 70% of that archetype.

2. Satanic entities were a topic of conversation in Latino Sunday schoola from time to time, including Ouija boards, duendes, skin walkers, and the like. a

My dad, the progressive pastor, put a stop to this nonsense once he found out.

3. I almost joined MUFON but didn’t want to pay the membership fee.

4. The scientific term is “high reactive.”

5. I, your local Xicano, can attest.

6. I, not a woman, can only provide second hand testimony.

7. AKA oh, you’re uncomfortable talking about your privilege, well here maybe some gruesome and gory visuals will help you get over yourself.

8. “I was here when it was still a rough place with like no brunch spots, so I’m basically a local.”

9. Sorry, hauntological theorists.

10. If you know which book I’m trying to emulate in this article (aka who I’m like ripping off) send a letter to the Vista team with the answer. I’ll make you a spooky sticker or something.

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SUMMER 2019 ISSUE

VISTA MAGAZINE

ARTS & CULTURE

On Not Being the “Wild Child”

by Belinda Banh

My sister is two years older than I am. Growing up, we would play teacher together, and she would pinch me if I got the answer wrong.

One time she made me drink soap because she was curious to see what would happen (I disappointedly did not burp up bubbles like she’d hoped for). We were never “close,” but we knew that we always had each other.

The beast began to lurk in middle school when she hung out with what others would say “the wrong group” of people. She sold drugs and condoms in 8th grade. I don’t ever remember speaking those years—not to family, not to my friends...not ever. It was always a debate on whether I keep this decent, potential sisterhood with this beast or let my parents know that I could speak. I didn’t know what the wrong or right thing to do was...was this normal for everyone, choosing which family members to tend to?

I remember when she offered me a cigarette in our musty pink bathroom—I was in 6th grade. I remember when my mom told me to call the cops on her. I remember when she dropped out of high school. I remember visiting her in the hospital and not knowing how I should feel—I was angry, hurt, sad, happy.

Then one day the beast grew tired and lonesome. The doubt and disappointment had piled on and on...it formed a flaky crust that made it hard to move in. She was always tired now. She began to change, blindly, but knowingly. The wild was tamed, and the child expanded. She went back to school and got a job. She found new hobbies and made friends. The world was not big enough for her, so people told her to shrink.

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RELIGION & FAITH

VISTA MAGAZINE

SUMMER 2019 ISSUE

If the Campus Could Speak

by Maddie Bennett

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SUMMER 2019 ISSUE

VISTA MAGAZINE

At the corner of Foster and Kedzie, near the train tracks and the river, lives a small oasis in the midst of a bustling city. She is a statuesque sight from the road and even more appealing past her large fence. A river can be found running through the premises, as well as blooming foliage, scampering bunnies, and aged buildings. In sum, she contains plenty of character; she also contains plenty of characters.

The characters that reside on these grounds gather together from around the globe every Fall, stirring around the campus through Winter, into Spring. From daybreak until sunset, and even past sundown, she watches these personalities flit throughout her paths and buildings, observing their whereabouts and activities.

If the campus could speak, she would have stories to tell; she would tell stories of get-togethers, picnics, and heightened games of frisbee out on the green-space. She would relay details of first dates, first impressions, and hard conversations over cups of coffee. She could share particulars about late night walks, which lead to long talks, which lead to big decisions.

RELIGION & FAITH

He is a father of sorts, a Heavenly Father, and He is near to every student on campus. He knows when they awaken and lie down and when their hearts are heavy. He watches from above, not letting one of His children out of His sight, knowing they are prone to wander.

He knows their insecurities, regrets, and mistakes, but His love is unconditional. He is near to the brokenhearted and those who have crushed spirits, and He cares for every bunny, squirrel, and human that lives at the corner of Foster and Kedzie.

At the corner of Foster and Kedzie resides a small oasis, which is home to many. She sits tall and picturesque, housing and watching all her residents. She has sat here for decades, watching humanity grow and change, and even grow and change herself. However, she knows that there is a greater One watching over it all, even her small domain in a bustling city.

She watches students emerge from their housing with painted faces, ready to cheer on their Vikings during the day, into the night. She could tell tales of wins, losses, and endless hours of sweat and work. She watches parents arrive from places far off, all to encourage their loved ones on the fields and courts that run through her grounds.

She could tell tales of tragedy, recalling the sadness of her students’ faces and hearts as they trudged through her frigid campus, putting on brave faces for their final exams. She watched students band together to hold one another up, as well as work out the deep questions within themselves. She watched her campus heal.

If the campus could speak, she would tell tales of heartbreak, though she may admit that there are too many to count. She could also recall stories of love, of new beginnings, and important encounters that would change lives. She could tell tales of laughter between friends, of arguments amongst peers, and melancholy farewells which last for the summer.

She could recall details of chaotic celebrations, which lead to late nights, fireworks, and possibly several bruises and broken bones. She could recount stories of game nights, intramural championships, and late night basketball amongst a group of friends. She watched as her students study into the night at the library, finish homework at the bagel shop, and even cram for finals in various lobbies. She watched her students grow, learn, suffer, and thrive.

However, the campus does not have eyes to see, nor does she have the voice to articulate all these events. She cannot care for her students like she would hope to, or even begin to remember all the names and quirks of the people that she houses. She knows that there is someone who looks out for each of the students, someone who knows how many hairs they have on their head, their whereabouts day in and out, and all the concerns that they hold in their heart.

(Left) Photo used with permission from North Park University (Right) Photo by Ethan Oliver

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ARTS & CULTURE

VISTA MAGAZINE

SUMMER 2019 ISSUE

Mental Asylum Mazes Paying homage to Francis Farmer and Sylvia Plath

by Haley Hack

Painted smiles, glazed gazes Lobotomy stains on her pretty pale face Mental asylum mazes Electro shock freight trains Surging Sapphire streak arrays This isn’t just a phase, erase the brain This will make her sane

Norm, norm this is the norm Conform or you’re out of this world Norm, norm, you must be norm Conform or you’re out of this world

Intellectual Incisions are made Electro shock therapy veins This is how you conform Norm, norm this world must be norm All must conform What is the norm?

How do you conform?

How does one stay sane in this merry-go-round world?

Norm, norm, this is the norm All must conform, Or you’ll be out of this world.

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