March 9 – Test

I have taken tests, written tests, examined tests, validated tests, given tests – all kinds of tests.

Math, reading, and social studies tests. Aptitude and achievement tests. TB tests and driving tests; hearing and vision tests; lie-detector tests. Intelligence tests and psychological tests. Pre-tests and post-tests.

Can you read that formula? Can you diagram that sentence? Can you translate that paragraph?

Can you define these words? Can you identify these dates? Can you complete these analogies?

Can you identify the relevant questions and formulate a hypothesis? Can you locate the pertinent polity points and describe how you would speak to them? Can you locate the specific theological problem underlying this person’s anguish and tell us how you would approach it?

I have taken a lot of tests. And I have administered tests – to answer a slew of questions that inquiring minds want to know.

How much math can they do under pressure? How intelligent is she? How messed up is he? Let’s quantify it.

I used to think that tests could be the salvation of the world, but I got over that. Honestly, tests are a mixed bag. They can be helpful to both tester and tested, but better not pack all your hopes in them. And, yes, it is totally possible to over-test. Just look at our schoolchildren, weighted down with the worries of the world; their own future, their teacher’s future, their entire school’s future resting on their little shoulders.

This is a test. It’s only a test.

In the end, a test might tell you what’s inside somebody. Or it might tell you nothing at all. But, also, something surprising might come out of it.

When I was in eighth grade we had to take a battery of standardized tests. I was ready for the battle. I asked my mother if I could stay home in the morning in order to be well-rested for the afternoon test session. I wanted to crush it. But the struggle was real; the campaign was long. Day after day we sat for hours in our seats with #2 pencils, test booklet, answer sheet, filling in bubbles.

One day in the middle of our afternoon test session, our teachers came in with a party. Everyone was given a Hershey bar and a 16-ounce bottle of Coke. They cared about us.

That was the test.

When I began my PhD program I took the required placement tests. I went in to my advisor and he waved the results in my face. He wanted me to see my math score. “Look at this – you’re good at this stuff!” he said. Later, I was told that it was a mistake. I was given the wrong number and my score was actually lower. But it was too late. He had told me I was good at it and I believed him.

That was the test.

When I was in Divinity School, I had to take a battery of psychological tests so The Committee could see just how screwed up I was before they let me serve a church. It was mortifying. The summary of results showed all the ways I was tired, scared, embittered, and lonely. I thought I was finished. Then the chair of The Committee said to me, “There is not a single one of us in ministry who does not have our own shortcomings, vulnerabilities, weaknesses, and scars. We are human and we know you are too.

That was the test.

Life is full of tests. Some of them are deliberate; others are serendipitous. Some require #2 pencils; others require compassion. Some provide information; others give grace.