I Was Made to Be a Scientist
By Jason Stuckey
Assistant Professor of Environmental Science
While I had no idea then that I would become a soil scientist and professor, the path that I took to get here was actually rather successful. When I began to make concrete plans for my long-term education and career, there was a point where I planned out the next nine years of my life. I’m grateful and a little amazed to say that those plans essentially panned out the way I intended and it opened the door to many other opportunities, including my job at Multnomah. Of course, I can’t take credit for any of that. In retrospect, it is easy to see God's providence through it all. He took me on a journey through my career, and I simply did my best to pick a good route and stick with it.
Much of the success I experienced rested upon a willingness to trust God and commit to the decisions that I had made. I didn’t waffle between alternative career paths; I picked one and worked for it, believing that if there needed to be a change in the direction of my life, God would make that apparent. I just had to keep moving forward and do the next thing. Staying the course wasn’t easy, but as I look back, I see the importance of persistence (something that any graduate student knows all too well) and a drive to continually learn more.
People often ask me why I chose soils in the first place. What is it about soils that really grabbed me? My love for soils has grown over time and there is profound meaning for me in my work. At this point in my life, I believe that there's something about working in the soil that's spiritual, but it didn’t start out that way—it wasn't like there were angels singing after the first soil science lecture I attended in college. But from the time I was young, I had a broad interest in the Earth itself. I always enjoyed being outside and, looking back, I can see traces of budding interest in my childhood rocks and minerals collection. Every summer when I visited my grandparents, they took me to a shop that sold various rocks and minerals so I could add to my collection and I studied books on basic geology.
When the time came to attend college, I went to Cal Poly San Luis Obispo intending to major in Earth Science. Because Earth Science was a developing program at the time, I had to start as a Soil Science major and would be able to transfer to Earth Science as a sophomore. I didn’t know anything about Soil Science, but the earth’s surface seemed like a logical place to start. As soon as I took my first Intro to Soil Science course that freshman year, I knew I didn't need to switch majors. I could spend my whole life studying soils and not begin to exhaust them.
The soil was where the other disciplines came alive for me. I wasn't enthralled with physics, chemistry, math, or biology as disciplines themselves, but when I saw them applied to a system, the artificial boundaries between the disciplines began to disappear. Soil processes involve physics, chemistry, and biology all working together. This realization was compelling and invited me to delve into other fields of study. Additionally, I began to learn how important soils are to human life and how understanding the soil could be a way to help people. Almost all food and fiber come from the soil—something most people take for granted. It was invigorating to recognize the fundamental controls that soils exert on food security and water quality. Soil Science made my biblical motivation for environmental stewardship seem actionable. Being a scientist would empower me to understand environmental systems such that I could help clean them up and reverse some of the effects of mismanagement or poor stewardship. I had found something that I loved. The curriculum was rigorous and challenging, but also meaningful and exciting. I was curious about the material and wanted to truly understand and retain what I was learning.
During my time as a Soil Science major at Cal Poly, Dr. Tom Ruehr was providentially assigned to be my academic advisor and wound up being one of the greatest influences on my career trajectory. A brilliant instructor and a Christian, Dr. Ruehr’s default walking pace was at least a couple MPH above mine—he was a man with passion. His office was piled high with stacks of books that he constantly devoured and his door was always open. He willingly entertained all my questions and had an uncanny (and unnerving) ability to continue reading while successfully fielding my inquiries. His breadth of knowledge was overwhelming but inspiring. By observing and spending time with Dr. Ruehr, I learned that I could become an expert in a particular field and spend a lifetime integrating that field with other disciplines. We shared a love of philosophy, which I’ve been able to incorporate in my current teaching. He was a picture of how rewarding a scholar’s journey can be. Through observing and interacting with Dr. Ruehr, I learned that my opportunities to learn could never be exhausted.
By the time I was a sophomore in college, I wanted to go on to get a master's degree, and by the time I was a senior, I knew I wanted to pursue a Ph.D. While the time commitment of a postgraduate education was formidable, I was catalyzed by the body of knowledge that scientists and scholars in other disciplines had accumulated, and wanted to do the work they were doing. I wanted to be on the frontier of that body of knowledge, to identify new, un-asked questions and figure out how to answer them. I knew that nothing would be accomplished apart from God’s design and grace, and only through his providence would I able to pursue those ambitions. As Matthew 7:7 says, “Seek and you will find.”
Near the completion of my undergraduate studies, I began the search for the right institution to earn my master’s degree. I found a professor at Penn State who was conducting a compelling project that would take me to Chile for eight months. I had never traveled internationally besides Canada and Mexico, and I found it exciting that science could take me to other parts of the globe. It seemed like the right fit.
After committing to Penn State in the spring of my senior year, I got an email from a professor at Stanford that I was interested in working with named Dr. Fendorf. He expressed interest in having me join his research group as a Ph.D. student upon completion of my master’s. Dr. Fendorf and his grad students researched the problem of arsenic contamination of groundwater in Cambodia. It was a global problem, but it especially impacted regions receiving water from the Himalaya or the Tibetan Plateau, such as those in China, Vietnam, Cambodia, Bangladesh, and West Bengal. Dr. Fendorf invited me to visit Stanford, and during my time there, he convinced me of the importance of the work they were doing. With over one-hundred-million people affected by arsenic contamination, the research I could do there could have a global impact. It wasn't just science for science’s sake—human health could be positively impacted. Dr. Fendorf’s research program coincided with my intellectual and worldview motivations. Before the visit was over, I was committed to pursuing my doctorate at Stanford.
“We aren’t always going to see what lies ahead of us. More often than not, the future is uncertain, and from those moments of uncertainty, exciting and edifying opportunities can emerge.”
- Jason Stuckey
Suddenly, by God’s grace, as an undergraduate senior, I had the next nine years mapped out for me, which provided both freedom and security. I went to Penn State and spent eight months in Chile, researching and teaching in a chemistry lab using Spanish as my primary language. After completing my masters, I went on to Stanford where I studied with Dr. Fendorf and wrote my dissertation on spatially constraining the controls of arsenic release to groundwater in the Mekong Delta. I graduated with my Ph.D. in 2014.
At that point in my life, I didn’t know what would come next. I now had a wife and a child, so the responsibilities and pressure of uncertainty were greater. But one thing had not changed: God was still the ultimate designer of my life and would determine my path forward. By this time, I knew I wanted to be a professor, to teach, and do research in some capacity, so I decided to bolster my professional experience through postdoctoral work at the University of Delaware, while also beginning to look for faculty positions.
Searching for a faculty job required a great deal of patience and trust in God. One day, I came across a job listing for an Environmental Scientist professor at a Christian university and did a double-take. It was a small school where I would have a good student to faculty ratio. The role would allow me to help build an environmental science program from scratch in the Pacific Northwest. I would have the freedom to develop a breadth of courses, teach them, and mentor students in my discipline and from a Christian worldview. That sort of offer doesn’t just happen by chance. I took an interview, visited the campus, and I have been at Multnomah University ever since.
One of my favorite aspects of being a professor at Multnomah is mentorship. I am able to form meaningful relationships with my students and create bonds like I had with Dr. Ruehr in my own college experience. Being a mentor is an immeasurably important responsibility. Through God’s guidance and the help of my mentors, I became an independent scientist. It was a slow and gradual process that required a lot of work, time, faith, and trust in God to point me towards the next step. I know that my journey wouldn’t have happened without the mentorship I received along the way, and in my role as a professor, I seek to pay that forward with my own students.
Throughout the Scriptures, we see that we do not have to journey alone. Joshua led the Israelites into the Promised Land. It was a monumental task, but God did not force Joshua to do it alone. Along with God’s constant presence, He provided Moses as a leader and mentor so that Joshua could be confident and fulfill the plans God had for him. A good mentor guides his or her student to independence. As a mentor myself, I want my students to grow more comfortable and more confident as they proceed on their own journeys. By sharing my knowledge and Biblical conviction of stewardship with my students, we can participate together in God’s redemption of the Earth.
As I reflect on my journey, I cannot help but think about our collective finitude. I think of C.S. Lewis’s quote about the far-off country where he says that we all have a longing. We all know that there's more out there to experience and enjoy, but it's not all going to come to fruition until Christ returns. We often have grandiose visions for our futures, but romanticizing the future can detract from the here and now. We aren’t always going to see what lies ahead of us. More often than not, the future is uncertain, and from those moments of uncertainty, exciting and edifying opportunities can emerge. But to capture those opportunities we must move forward. We must take the next step in front of us in faith.
In my own life, I’ve found that doing the next thing and inviting God into the process through prayer and learning from the people He places in your life, is the most faithful thing you can do with your life. There is so much for us to explore and enjoy this side of heaven. There is so much good that we can do for the Earth and for the people who live in it. If we can trust God, proceed with what's in front of us, pray about what He has called us to do, seek it out, and then commit to it, I believe that we will each find that God has more in store for us than we could ever ask for or imagine.