Final Reflections

My final essay at the John Jay Fellowship.

I came to the John Jay Fellowship with three goals. Firstly, I wanted to reinforce my foundation in reading the Western Canon, especially as it pertains to Western liberalism. This was my intellectual background in college. I saw many issues with modernity and its rootedness in Hobbesian political thought, but wasn’t quite ready to give up on liberalism as a sociopolitical system for America. After all, I am a direct beneficiary of its pluralistic and globalist side effects. Secondly, I wanted to discover a Christian politics for myself. My time at Yale had for the most part consisted in keeping my political opinions quiet, if I formed any at all. I saw political moderation as a virtue in itself and also prudent in an emotionally-charged period on a secular campus. I placed more value in living out my Christian faith clearly before those around me and focused on nonpolitical issues, so I never deeply explored how my faith ought to inform the particulars of my political stances. I thought this had a good chance of being rectified in the John Jay Fellowship. Thirdly, I wanted a crash course in communal living. I had lived with roommates before but our physical needs were taken care of by dining hall staff members, custodial staff, and other school employees. I had also never lived with practicing Christians (outside of my family). I wanted a space in which we could live together and grow in Christ.

Looking back, the program taught me meaningful things in all three areas, though not in the ways I expected. For one thing, the readings were much more theological than I had anticipated. The only secular authors I remember from the Christian Civic Thought module were Mill and Nietzsche, and from the Natural Law module, I only remember Aristotle. The emphasis on Christian authorship was probably good for me, because I would probably never study a book in an academic setting if I knew that the author came with explicitly Christian presuppositions. It’s the unconscious bias I acquired from secular school—seeing Christian nonfiction as less legitimate than secular scholarship. However, the God-centeredness of the readings was necessary for the purpose of the program—to equip us for God’s work for the city of God, not man’s work for the city of man.

The most recurring idea I wrestled with this semester was the relationship between church and state. I had always taken separation of church and state as a given, but reading selections of Christian thought through the centuries and speaking with people who hold different opinions from my pluralistic assumptions has helped me form a more nuanced perspective. The evangelical Baptist view I grew up with saw Christianity and the world as diametrically opposed to each other. Even my first reading of Augustine’s City of God pushed me toward the belief that this earthly city, the city of man, would always be distinct and antithetical to the city of God. I was also influenced by Tocquevillian ideas that the church is robust in America because the state played no role in promoting religion. To an extent, I still hold these beliefs. But I have also been enriched by ideas of Christian statesmanship through our reading of the Old Testament contrasting just kings with unjust kings of Israel, the example of Christ’s leadership, and our studies of Christian rulers like Constantine and Theodosius. I have more faith that a Christian leader can live according to her principles while also governing effectively. A clearer articulation of natural law has helped me conceptualize and ground some of these ideas—and I was able to more deeply explore the limitations of natural law theory in Christian politics.

Through discussions with others in the fellowship and my own reading, I have learned more about how the doctrine of separation of church and state are being twisted and misused to erase mention of Christ or the gospel in the public forum. I now have more sympathy toward Christian nationalists and those who want to work toward a broader cultural acceptance of Christianity through rule of law. Awaiting the King by James K. Smith and N.T. Wright’s Surprised by Hope articulated different conceptions of the way Christians can participate in politics—and more than participate—can change and redeem it to God’s glory. The idea that the new heavens and the new earth will be a full redemption of the old earth, instead of starting creation over from scratch, has been especially poignant to me. It gives our political action in this world deeper meaning knowing that we are not simply trying to shore up crumbling institutions that God will scrap anyway, but that every good work building up the world will be remembered and effective in God’s kingdom too.

My conception of God has broadened to include the way He has worked in His body, the church, in all different Christian sects and denominations. It was pure joy to worship with others and precious to see the ways in which Catholics, for example, related to God through the Eucharist and the sacraments, to explore the theology of the Reformed Presbyterians and the faith they have in the grace of God regarding their salvation, and to witness the robust ways in which Anglicans cling to the traditions and orthodoxies that have been handed to them but which they live out daily in ways that renew and transform them, instead of making them comfortable and tepid. I will be honest—it was at times difficult to pray with the Book of Common prayer and disorienting to participate in highly liturgical services. But I have also seen beauty that springs from repetition and order, a different kind of beauty in God from the spontaneity and revolution found in Baptist or Pentecostal worship.

I’ve learned, experientially, that God is a great king and worthy of honor and obeisance. I knew this intellectually, but Pentecostals have a loose, intimate form of worship that emphasizes God’s personal relationship with His children instead of God’s kingly rule over his servants. But He is both! Entering a cathedral and basilica, kneeling in prayer and deference, is like entering the throne room of the king. There is something to church architecture that draws your gaze upward from the earth to heaven, something in the gilded, sculpted, and tinted beauty of sacred spaces that reflects a sort of respect that is due to God’s kingship. It’s a long way from the windowless hotel basement that my Pentecostal church worships in. I still think there is a place for windowless hotel basements and pastors who give sermons in shorts. There is a simplicity and a humility to it. But God is big enough to have room for worshippers in both basements and cathedrals.

The fellowship has given me time to reflect on myself—perhaps too much time. Most of my prayer time with the Lord is dwelling on me and what’s happening to me, when I should be focused on Him and what He is doing. I recognize that as a shortcoming in myself. I spend so much time in my own head that I sometimes have difficulty relating to, understanding, or listening to others. This was amplified by the realities of living with a group of girls in Gillam House. I seek solitude, perhaps too often. I didn’t have a roommate so it was easy to disappear into my room. I did try, however, and did succeed in making good friends when I turned my social switch on. I also realized that I despise travel, though I do it because it’s necessary to visit people and important places and make memories.

I discovered that I am half-and-half extroverted and introverted—I am usually tolerant and judicious, but not all of the time. It takes some probing but there is a sarcastic and brash side that can be brought out. Sometimes I wake up on the wrong side of the bed (especially when I’m in ill health) and I space out or don’t consider my words. My poor fellow fellows have had to put up with me, and I am grateful to them for it. I gotta give myself some credit here however—I am usually sweet, joyful, and polite. I appreciate this social experiment in living with strangers who have become quite good friends. Seeing myself through their eyes has been informative.

The most memorable experience has got to be that stove blowing up. I could still see it in my mind’s eye—hearing that bang, the pot clattering to the floor, my housemate standing there in shock, smoke and fire billowing out of a huge hole in the range. People rushed in from the other room. Movie night was ruined. But not five minutes later, the boys were joking and laughing about it and we all whipped out our phones to take a photo. Isn’t it amazing how resilient a group could be when something scary happens? And it was interesting to experience how I respond in a crisis—practical detachment in the moment, then creeping horror at what could have happened afterward.

The most enjoyable experience may have been potsticker night for me. It was a recipe I came up with from my memories of making potstickers with my family and friends, and it took a few batches to get right, but teaching the others how to fold them, the boys singing a silly song, everyone looking shocked that I would pour cold water into a pan of hot oil—it was hilarious and the potstickers didn’t turn out half bad. It was also a fellow’s birthday. It turns out, I love cooking for others and eating together. One thing I didn’t anticipate about Christian community coming into the fellowship was how much pure fun I’d have.

The most meaningful moments were when my housemates and I stayed up late and talked about life, relationships, theology, and everything else we could think of. I grew quite close to them during these conversations and learned a lot about my own views. These fellows sure ask piercing questions! But we really built friendship during those times, especially because I didn’t have a roommate. It was sad she left when she did, because I expected those late-night conversations to be a highlight of our fellowship. I wish those nights happened more often. They were emblematic of the sort of Christian community I wanted to experience coming in.

The most challenging experience for me was staying on top of the schedule I set out for myself. My sleep habits were fixed during Lent—Hallelujah—when the other fellows encouraged me to give up staying up past midnight. Having a curfew was really helpful. But as the semester went on, my other goals slacked—I stopped working out, I spent less time writing my blog or job-hunting. I napped a lot in the afternoon because I got up really early to do reading, and the quality of that reading time was less good than I would have liked.

But I did grow in discipline somewhat! I did my house chores and the essays got done—some of them even have good ideas in them—and I cooked for the house on Tuesdays and people ate it. And I kept my blog running even though the posts got shorter and shorter over time. It’s a learning process! Plus, you can’t sacrifice community, fellowship, and spontaneity for a regimented schedule just for the sake of having a regimented schedule. The weekend trips and hiking and ladies’ paint nights were so worth throwing off my schedule for.

At the start of the fellowship, I wrote in my blog, “my main desire coming into the John Jay Fellowship is to figure out the next step in my legal career. I was leaning toward returning to NYC for-profit law, but I just don’t have a great grasp on what’s out there in particular and where I can best use my talents.” As it turns out, I will not be returning to for-profit law in New York City, but will do paralegal work in DC with the federal government. The opportunity came through the fellowship, which substantively and crucially launched me on the next step in my legal career. This cannot be said for all the fellows, and indeed I did not expect such an opportunity when I applied—I was expecting something like career counseling and a list of resources, perhaps, and was thrilled when my expectations were greatly exceeded. My excitement at getting the job is greatly motivated by a sense of responsibility to serve the American people well. It is a real taxpayer-funded position and I want to do right by them.

However, regardless of whether I got a job—even if I was going back to the New York law firm scene—the fellowship has given me a clearer sense of my vocation. The best definition of vocation, per our Gene Veith book, God at Work, is my responsibility at the moment to people in the moment and the place where God put me. Yes, it does mean prudence in planning for the future, but I have got to do right by the people in front of me in the here and now. And because I’ve had so much time to reflect, I’m much more comfortable with the path God has taken me on so far and the places He’ll lead me. I typically think of myself as a fairly ambitious person, but if my life ends up with me achieving all my plans for myself, I’ll one hundred percent have failed in life—because God’s plans are much greater than whatever I could think up for myself. He calls us to higher degrees of glory.

I think of this fellowship as investing in a time of formation for me and the other fellows. We have access to excellent mentors and the best Christian thinkers throughout history. Our professors were high-caliber, knowledgeable about their subjects, and encouraging of a diversity of viewpoints, but both orthodox and ecumenical in their Christian convictions. Our program directors set an inspiring example of heathy Christian family and challenged us to be accommodating hosts and hostesses, to speak well and warmly, to make our homes welcoming to guests and use our living habits in the family and following the Christian liturgical calendar as a light for Christ’s gospel to non-believers. We have also been connected to a network of like-minded alumni who care about the same causes we do. We have been incubated together, testing our ideas against each other, sharpening and affirming each other so we can be confident in our beliefs. I imagine that in the future, when we are ideologically challenged or need spiritual support, we can draw on our experiences here at John Jay and upon each other to overcome and speak life into whatever the issue or situation that is confronting us.

I would recommend the John Jay Fellowship to any sincere Christian young person who is interested in political philosophy, who wishes to bring their faith into the public square but hasn’t quite gotten the details of how God will have them do that exactly, and who is open to ecumenical community and the leading of the Holy Spirit to explore in unexpected directions. This description matches myself quite perfectly, so I was a great fit for the program and fully reaped the benefits of my time here. It was truly a joyous time: oriented toward worship of the Lord, intellectually engaging, and cultivating of friendship in the fullest Aristotelian sense—friendship in pursuit of virtue, with habituation and mutual acknowledgment, living together and sharing bread and salt. It doesn’t hurt that we are surrounded by beauty also—the natural beauty surrounding Cairn’s campus and the architecture and furnishings of our houses at Gillam and Fairview. To learn to take care of and steward such a lovely dwelling place well is no doubt good for our souls. Instead of plunging straight from education to career, the fellowship gave us a most valuable time to reflect on our values and reorient ourselves toward our King, who is Jesus.

I’d like to sincerely offer my gratitude to those who have sacrificially given of their time, energy, and financial resources to make this a reality for us. Everything from the maintenance and retention of the gorgeous and comfortable manor houses in which we live, to the stipends we get so we can enjoy this program absolutely free of living costs, to the purchase of books and materials for our study—we have been so blessed by your contributions. I’d like to particularly emphasize my thanks for your investment in the staff members of the John Jay Institute. They are the ones who teach us, direct the program, and mentor us. They are qualified, intellectual, committed to the mission of the program, and clearly care about our well-being. We are immensely grateful to them and to you. By supporting their work and their families, you make this time of spiritual formation possible for us.

I’m sure the ambitious vision of the board of directors of the John Jay Institute—to equip Christian leaders for their future in the world—has borne fruit this semester, and may it be multiplied in the years to come with new cohorts in the program. I will certainly stick close to the alumni community to offer the cohorts whatever resources or help I can provide. They have become my “little platoon”—and we must all have our little platoons!

Love,

Tiana Luo

Spring 2025