Mice and Easter

I would like to share a story. 

It was a cold and gloomy Tuesday afternoon. The permacloud settled in the sky as I dragged my feet towards my apartment. Everything felt like a rut. The same experiments, the same prayers, the same food, the same people…everything was the same.

I hated it.

I was tired, and I could feel the slightest hint of a virus in my sinuses. Should I continue to live this way, constantly exerting effort towards nothing, I knew that I would get sick. I knew that it would be disasterous for me to continue on this path.

But it was all I had known.

However, there was a change that I could make. I could be honest with myself and let go of the things I should have released months ago. Even though I knew that I could be of great help to these people, I was not wanted.

I did not want to let go.

I did not want to change.

With my hands shaking out of sheer exhaustion, I typed out a text or two, doing all that I could to get the last glimpse of closure I had from my past before I made the change I knew God wanted for me. My eyes were dry, and my heart was racing. It hurt to think that a task God had given me so long ago was now finally over.

I had to change my ministry.

And with that change, I asked God to give me a better sense of direction. I asked God to be as clear as possible. I asked God to send me a sign that I was doing the right thing, that I was going where He wanted me to go. All I wanted was some clarity.

I expected something to happen the next day. If I was going to make a big life decision, then I wanted to be reassured that I was doing the right thing. If I was going to stop allowing myself to be walked over, then I wanted to see my strength in the real world. I wanted something to happen the next day.

Nothing happened.

On the third day, I came in to lab to work with my students. I had very little of my own research to do that day, so I took on the “Lab Mom” role, and I fluttered about the lab, asking about experiments and making sure no one was overwhelmed or lost. Sure, I was a bit flustered, but at least they were ok. 

Then I got very tired.

So. Very. Tired.

Exhausted and angry tears pushed on the back of my eyes as I went through the protocols I needed to learn for my project. My life had taken a turn towards active learning and intentional relationships, and yet here I was, still in the lab, still struggling to juggle 12 undergrads and my own projects. I had “died to myself,” and yet I was still the same person, someone who could not even make a simple joke.

It seemed like all I had prayed for was missing.

And I was pissed.

That’s not the end of the story though. We’ll get back to that. First, I want to tell you another story…

It was a gloomy Friday. People were shouting angrily around a well-respected Rabbi. He had blasphemed, and He was going to be put to death. Off to the side of the crowd was a man named Simon. A fairly normal dude, but nonetheless, the soldiers enlisted him to help this Rabbi walk to His death.

They struggled and toiled through the hot desert sun. Blood dripped on Simon’s face, but he did not stop carring the Cross beside the man whom they called Jesus.

Simon was relieved of his charge at the top of the hill. He stood as the brave man he walked beside screamed in agony in the unison with the sound of a hammer against a nail. There was nothing Simon could do for this man now. It was up to Jesus to get on the Cross. It was up to Jesus to end everything.

Simon could not help Him anymore.

He did all that he could

And yet Simon was still bruised and beaten, much like the man hanging on the Tree.

The next day Simon went home. People spoke of a Messiah, but Jesus did not seem to be that man. If He were, then maybe He would have stoped the crowds. If He actually was going to save Israel, then maybe something would have happened today. Yet on this particular Saturday, nothing seemed to happen.

Simon nursed his wounds, but there was nothing left for him to do, not anymore.

That’s not the end of the story though. Let me return to the first story.

I came back to the lab with a cup of coffee in my hand. My advisor strolled in to the lab, and he looked at my undergrad and I. He wanted to know when we could get upstairs to euthanize our oldest mouse. She was particularly old, so I thought it would not be a big deal if we waited.

“Why?” I asked.

“She’s sick.”

Now for those of my Dear Readers who are not Biologists, a sick mouse can be a very good thing. In this case, we removed a gene that we believed could compensate for another protein. No one believed that this protein, STARD9, would really be important. There were even days that I wondered if STARD9 mattered at all.

For over a year, that knockout mouse showed no signs of weakness.

But on that day, the mouse died from complicatons associated with our disease of interest.

In one day, with one mouse, our lab changed. Suddenly all of my experiments were more crucial than ever before. Suddenly I found myself taking new risks, planning better experiments, and finding a solid conviction in myself to answer the questions we had been searching for for so long.

Our lab had hope again.

In another world, in another life, there stood a man named Simon. He was sitting in the city, just waiting for something to happen. His back still ached from The Cross, but no one could tell. No one needed to know the hurt because it did not matter. At least, that’s what everyone thought.

But then the Apostles came running to the tomb.

It was empty.

On that day, the man rose from the grave, and the world changed forever.

Our world had hope again.

I think we all think that we need to see the results of our actions right away. We want to be recognized for the hardships we face. We want people to believe in us. We want to believe in ourselves. Yet when the going gets tough, we find ourselves in a state of doubt and sorrow.

We let go of our past, and we expect the future to be in our midst.

But the thing is…

The most important part of the story is what happened in the background. As we wait for the next big thing, we are changing. We are growing in some way, some form, that allows us to fit in to the next part of the story. If we were to just jump to the end of the story, we would miss all of the little pieces that matter so very much.

On the day that nothing happened for me, I was told that I would be a great PI some day.

On the day that nothing happened for Simon, Jesus was breaking open the gates of Heaven.

Every Good Friday has an Easter Morning. You just need to get through the Holy Saturday to get there.