A Lesson on Good Parenting

God Works in Mysterious Ways

Thanks so much to my friend Kristen Orr for a good reminder of the proper perspective on parenting. It is so good I’ll take the liberty to repost it here.

Sometimes the best lessons we can learn are from our kids. This morning I had my whole day planned out. We had two errands to run before heading over to a friend’s house to get together.  As anyone can attest getting three kids (or any number of kids) out the door is not quick or easy.  Well as with any day, it did not go as planned, but better. My first change was driving my husband to the park and ride so that he could pick up his bus that takes him to DC each day. The kids and I got home, ate breakfast, and prepared for our outing. I proceeded to make sure that each of the kids were ready to head out the door. Of course, I asked each of the kids to gather a toy to share with their friend. Mary gathered her two dolls and a purse. David insisted on bringing his legos, a set that was not built yet. I kindly and politely asked him to bring something other than legos suggesting even his new shark puppet, Sharky. Thankfully, my son is just as strong willed as his mommy is and vetoed my idea. I could say that I was calm and patient but my frustration was increasing quickly as the minutes were ticking away. Slowly those two errands were turning into one and then turned into zero. As I was on my march over to tell him sternly that it was time to go, something caused me to pause. As I stood outside his door and watched him, my heart was became reflective and instantly changed. I decided to pick up the pieces of my morning and start at the best place I could think of, my morning devotion time. I went to my room and picked up my Bible. As I was sitting there, praying and reading, David ran to me with Sharky in hand and climbed on my lap. His words began pouring out…”Mommy, I was praying about which toy to bring and I should not bring my legos. God told me to bring Sharky. I am going to listen to Him.” I just stopped because I knew God had just worked in my little boy’s heart in a way that my forcing would never have worked. He learned a life long lesson that will stick with him much longer than yelling or forcing his hand.

As I reflect upon my own son’s lesson I realize the power in the lesson for myself as well. First, of all God teaches us in his own timing. Sometimes we have to step back and wait for God to share His words and wisdom. The other lesson I gained was I need to step back and allow God to parent my children. He is the best parent and the best lessons I can learn are from Him. It is precious to watch your children gain understanding and wisdom in their own relationship with Christ. But it is even more wonderful to know that God, the perfect parent, is caring for my kids.

To check out more of her thoughts, check her blog out here.

Reflecting on Imperfect Heroes

¹⁰ as it is written,

“THERE IS NONE RIGHTEOUS, NOT EVEN ONE;
¹¹ THERE IS NONE WHO UNDERSTANDS,
THERE IS NONE WHO SEEKS FOR GOD;
¹² ALL HAVE TURNED ASIDE, TOGETHER THEY HAVE BECOME USELESS;
THERE IS NONE WHO DOES GOOD,
THERE IS NOT EVEN ONE.”
¹³ “THEIR THROAT IS AN OPEN GRAVE,
WITH THEIR TONGUES THEY KEEP DECEIVING,”
“THE POISON OF ASPS IS UNDER THEIR LIPS”;
¹⁴ “WHOSE MOUTH IS FULL OF CURSING AND BITTERNESS”;
¹⁵ “THEIR FEET ARE SWIFT TO SHED BLOOD,
¹⁶ DESTRUCTION AND MISERY ARE IN THEIR PATHS,
¹⁷ AND THE PATH OF PEACE THEY HAVE NOT KNOWN.”
¹⁸ “THERE IS NO FEAR OF GOD BEFORE THEIR EYES.” (Romans 3.10-18 NASB)

I couldn’t help but think of this as I contemplated the death of Joe Paterno this weekend. I was intrigued, though not surprised, by the reaction. Some of my friends, many with ties to Penn State wanted to put aside the recent revelations about Paterno’s poor handling of what he has admitted he knew about the actions of Jerry Sandusky and simply praise the legend that we all thought we knew to be above critique as a man, if not as a coach. Others wanted to say all of that didn’t matter in the shadow of the Sandusky scandal. I can’t help but think that these extremes, while tempting, are simply easy alternatives to admitting that Paterno was a man, like all of us, who had good and bad times. He often made good decisions, and certainly should be applauded for not simply amassing his wealth for himself and seeking the bigger paycheck. He was faithful to Penn State, and donated millions back to the University.

On the other hand, we must admit that his ego has been reported to be large, especially late in his career. It has been a long time since Penn State has been relevant on the national stage in any consistent sense. Partially, this is due to Paterno’s entrenched opinions and unwillingness to change significantly. While the defenses have been consistently good, if not great, the offense has rarely been the envy of anyone. Coaches on his staff rarely were replaced, despite lackluster seasons. The insulated nature of the staff probably contributed to the culture that allegedly allowed Sandusky continued access to the program and facilities long after allegations of impropriety had caused him to be “banned” from the building.

The lesson? None of us is perfect. Some of us tend to overlook our shortcomings and dwell on the good we see in ourselves. Others are more prone to flagellate themselves over every failure and overlook their many good qualities. The truth is that we should keep both in mind. We should also keep in mind that all of the people around us have both as well. Even the biggest villain has some good attributes, and even the most saintly person we know has inner struggles we may never see. Have the revelations about Sandusky changed who Joe Paterno was? No. They have simply revealed things we didn’t know. We ought always to offer grace and mercy to those around us whose struggles are most visible, and refrain from sanctifying others when we know that they are human, and therefore have issues and struggles we know little about.

I leave the decision on his soul to the One who alone makes that determination, but I pray for mercy, as I would want were I in his position.

——————————-

Over at The Way of Improvement Leads Home today, John Fea offers a couple of links to takes on this, but also offers an analysis that agrees with mine, just from his perspective as an historian.

As a historian, I think that there are a few things we have to remember as we assess the legacy of Joe Paterno.

1. It is difficult to give a fair assessment of Paterno’s legacy while we are still caught up in the emotions of his death and the whole Sandusky affair.

2.  When we put our confidence in people, whether they lived in the past or live in the present, we are likely to be inspired by them, but we are just as likely to be disappointed.  There are no heroes in history–we are flawed human beings.  There are no villains in history–we, in the eyes of God, all possess dignity and worth.

You can find his links here.

The Pain of Reflection

After yesterday’s post about understanding the other, this must have been the end of the day for that storm trooper:

 

Hurry Up and Wait

Jon Acuff

Over at his “Stuff Christians Like” blog, Jon Acuff ruminates on waiting on God. Here are his thoughts:

I don’t know what questions you ask your wife or your husband or your boyfriend or your girlfriend. I don’t know what questions you ask professors or friends or bosses or anyone else. But I do know one question you ask God. It’s one of the most popular questions we Christians ask. Here it is:

“Do you want me to wait on you right now God?”

Waiting on God is one of the hardest things to figure out. I’ve written about it a bunch before because it’s a question we all ask at some point.

Does God want me to look for a new job, or be still and wait where he has me?

Does God want me to date more if I’m interested in being married, or does he want me to wait on him?

Does God want us to buy a new house or wait on him?

Does God want me to quit my job and join the mission field or wait on him?

The variety of wait-or-go situations is endless. And confusing.

But I have discovered one tiny verse that’s challenged how I view the waiting dilemma.

The verse is Mark 15:43, and it’s really simple. It’s such a fragment of a fragment of a much bigger story that it’s easy to overlook it. But it does speak to waiting in an interesting way.

Here is what it says:

Joseph of Arimathea, a prominent member of the Council, who was himself waiting for the kingdom of God, went boldly to Pilate and asked for Jesus’ body.

On the one hand, Joseph is noted as someone who was “waiting for the kingdom of God.” He is identified as a man of faith, as someone waiting. But then, within the confines of the same exact sentence, he is described as someone that “went boldly.”

He didn’t do one or the other; he did both. Waiting and action were not mutually exclusive in his life. But most of the time, I act like they are. I usually think it’s a one or the other type of world we’re living in. I either wait on God, or I run with God. But Joseph did both.

He waited and he sprinted.

He was calm and bold.

Peaceful and busy. (Insert your own two words that feel weird together.)

Maybe the answer to the question we all keep asking isn’t what we thought it would be.

Maybe the answer to the question, “Should I wait on God or hustle as hard as I can?” is actually “Yes.”

I, for one, feel convicted.

Steve Jobs: Bad Advice

Steve Jobs delivers the commencement address at Stanford University in 2005

Richard Mouw, president of Fuller Theological Seminary, has joined the list of folks reflecting on Steve Jobs’ passing. Mouw particularly considers the advice given at Standford’s 2005 graduation ceremony, which he juxtaposes with comments by a commencement address from David Brooks. (HT: John Fea) Here is a taste:

I don’t know anything much about his fundamental convictions, but there is one line that caught my attention when it first was publicized, and it is now being quoted as an enduring piece of wisdom from his lips. In his Stanford commencement address in 2005 he told the graduates: “Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life.”

That’s a very different message from the one David Brooks delivered in a commencement address he gave last spring. His point was summarized in the title that the New York Times gave it when it ran it as an op-ed in May: “It’s Not About You.” Graduates leave our institutions of higher learning, Brooks said, with “the whole baby boomer theology ringing in their ears.” Commencement speakers tell them: “Followyour passion, chart your course, march to the beat of your drummer, follow yourdreams and find yourself.” All of that, Brooks argued, is “the litany of expressive individualism, which is still the dominant note in American culture.”

Brooks may even have had Steve Jobs’s Stanford address in mind when he said all of that. And my own evangelical convictions square nicely with Brooks’s concerns. The Apostle Paul certainly seemed to be saying, “It’s not about me” when he wrote that “it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me” (Galatians 2:20). And for many of us in the Reformed world, the Heidelberg Catechism puts it profoundly in its first question and answer: “My only comfort in life and in death” is “that I am not my own, but belong with body and soul, both in life and in death, to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ . . . [who] makes me heartily willing and ready from now on to live for Him.”

So if I have to choose, I clearly go with Brooks rather than Jobs. But it would have been nice to be able to ask Jobs what he thought about the Brooks piece. My guess is that he would have agreed with the basic point Brooks was making, but that he also would have insisted that there is something about “not living someone else’s life” that is worth emphasizing. Both Jobs and Brooks were addressing a generation of students who make much of “authenticity”: whatever you choose, make sure that you choose it, and that you are not just going along with the crowd.

Interesting thoughts (you can find the rest here). As I reflect more on Jobs’ speech, I can understand Mouw’s critique. Jobs’ perspective is certainly consistent with his apparent conversion to Buddhism. He is focused on the self, and actualizing that self. Don’t let external pressures conform you into their pattern, but be true to yourself. As Andy Crouch reminds us (see my previous post), the first part of this sounds almost Christian. We are admonished to not let the world press us into its pattern. The problem is that we are not, as Christians, supposed to simply remold ourselves as we see fit, we are to be transformed by the renewing of our minds by the Spirit of God.

This difference does present a chance for us as Christians to clarify the differences between our faith and the others competing for the allegiance of those around us. Christianity is unique in its focus (relationship with God, rather than adherence to a set of rules) and motivation (we do this not to please ourselves or provide ourselves with reward in the present world, but to gain fulfillment by doing what we were created for: loving God). Jobs apparently never understood this. Do those around me “get it”, or do they see pleasing themselves as the end goal? I need to find ways to show the Truth in my daily life. I think this is what Brooks is trying to say. I’m not an expert on all of what Brooks may have to say, but on this point I certainly agree with him. Our life is not our own, we only “succeed” to the degree that we fulfill our purpose of delighting in the One who created us for Himself.

Steve Jobs: Prophet?

Steve Jobs Portrait by Tim O'Brien

An interesting perspective on Steve Jobs from Andy Crouch via a piece in the Wall Street Journal. (HT: John Fea) Here is his introduction, followed by some interesting pieces.

For every magical thing Steve Jobs revealed in his Apple keynote addresses, there were many other things he concealed. Like the devices he created, his life was more and more opaque even while becoming more and more celebrated. So his death this week came as a shock for nearly all of us, even though we knew that only grave illness could be keeping him from the company he co-founded and loved. He told us almost nothing about his prognosis—right through his last public appearance he was as turtleneck-clad and upbeat as ever. But suddenly, this week, he was gone.

Steve Jobs was extraordinary in countless ways—as a designer, an innovator, a (demanding and occasionally ruthless) leader. But his most singular quality was his ability to articulate a perfectly secular form of hope. Nothing exemplifies that ability more than Apple’s early logo, which slapped a rainbow on the very archetype of human fallenness and failure—the bitten fruit—and turned it into a sign of promise and progress.

That bitten apple was just one of Steve Jobs’s many touches of genius, capturing the promise of technology in a single glance. The philosopher Albert Borgmann has observed that technology promises to relieve us of the burden of being merely human, of being finite creatures in a harsh and unyielding world. The biblical story of the Fall pronounced a curse upon human work—”cursed is the ground for thy sake; in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy life.” All technology implicitly promises to reverse the curse, easing the burden of creaturely existence. And technology is most celebrated when it is most invisible—when the machinery is completely hidden, combining godlike effortlessness with blissful ignorance about the mechanisms that deliver our disburdened lives.

What lay behind Jobs’ perspective? What was his motivation?

Politically, militarily, economically, the decade was defined by disappointment after disappointment—but technologically, it was defined by a series of elegantly produced events in which Steve Jobs, commanding more attention and publicity each time, strode on stage with a miracle in his pocket.

Steve Jobs was the evangelist of this particular kind of progress—and he was the perfect evangelist because he had no competing source of hope. He believed so sincerely in the “magical, revolutionary” promise of Apple precisely because he believed in no higher power. In his celebrated Stanford commencement address (which is itself an elegant, excellent model of the genre), he spoke frankly about his initial cancer diagnosis in 2003. It’s worth pondering what Jobs did, and didn’t, say:

“No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don’t want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because death is very likely the single best invention of life. It’s life’s change agent; it clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now, the new is you. But someday, not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it’s quite true. Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma, which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice, heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become.”

This is the gospel of a secular age. It has the great virtue of being based only on what we can all perceive—it requires neither revelation nor dogma. And it promises nothing it cannot deliver—since all that is promised is the opportunity to live your own unique life, a hope that is manifestly realizable since it is offered by one who has so spectacularly succeeded by following his own “inner voice, heart and intuition.”

Mr. Jobs was by no means the first person to articulate this vision of a meaningful life—Socrates, the Buddha and Emerson come to mind. To be sure, fully embracing this secular gospel requires an austerity of spirit that few have been able to muster, even if it sounds quite fine on the lawn of Stanford University.

How does this “gospel” work out in the real world? Not well, says Crouch:

Upon close inspection, this gospel offers no hope that you cannot generate yourself and only the comfort of having been true to yourself. In the face of tragedy and evil—the kind of tragedy that cuts off lives not just at 56 years old but at 5 or 6, the kind of evil bent on eradicating whole tribes and nations from the earth—it is strangely inert.

Perhaps every human system of meaning fails or at least falls silent in the face of these harsh realities, but the gospel of self-fulfillment does require an extra helping of stability and privilege to be plausible. Death is “life’s change agent”? For most human beings, that would sound like cold comfort indeed.

But the genius of Steve Jobs was to persuade us, at least for a little while, that cold comfort is enough. The world—at least the part of the world in our laptop bags and our pockets, the devices that display our unique lives to others and reflect them to ourselves—will get better. This is the sense in which the tired old cliché of “the Apple faithful” and the “cult of the Mac” is true. It is a religion of hope in a hopeless world, hope that your ordinary and mortal life can be elegant and meaningful, even if it will soon be dated, dusty and discarded like a 2001 iPod.

Crouch then turns to another visionary with a message to preach: the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Dr. King, too, had had a close encounter with his own mortality when he was stabbed by a mentally ill woman at a book signing in 1958. He told that story a decade later to a rally on the night of April 3, 1968, and then turned, with unsettling foresight, to the possibility of his own early death. His words, at the beginning, could easily have been a part of Steve Jobs’s commencement address:

“Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now.”

But here Dr. King, the civic and religious leader, turned a corner that Mr. Jobs never did. “I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land! And so I’m happy, tonight. I’m not worried about anything, I’m not fearing any man! Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!”

Finally, Crouch offers this perspective for the rest of us:

But the rest of us, as grateful as we are for his legacy, still have to decide whether technology’s promise is enough to take us to the promised land. Is technology enough? Has the curse truly been repealed? Is the troublesome world simply awaiting another Steve Jobs, the evangelist of our power to unfold our own possibilities?

And, correspondingly, was the hope beyond themselves, and beyond this life, that animated Dr. King and his companions merely superfluous to the success of their cause, an accident of religious history rather than a civic necessity?

For people of a secular age, Steve Jobs’s gospel may seem like all the good news we need. But people of another age would have considered it a set of beautifully polished empty promises, notwithstanding all its magical results. Indeed, they would have been suspicious of it precisely because of its magical results.

And that may be true of a future age as well. Our grandchildren may discover that technological progress, for all its gifts, is the exception rather than the rule. It works wonders within its own walled garden, but it falters when confronted with the worst of the world and the worst in ourselves. Indeed, it may be that rather than concealing difficulty and relieving burdens, the only way forward in the most tenacious human troubles is to embrace difficulty and take up burdens—in Dr. King’s words, to embrace a “dangerous unselfishness.”

I find this to be an interesting challenge. As Christians, have we succumbed to the secular, self-focused, gospel of Jobs, or do we subscribe to the faith-based gospel of Christ that Dr. King advocated? You can read the whole piece here.

Our Short Sighted Society

Yesterday’s Drabble made me think about the way that our society handles things.

As funny as it is, it struck me at a deeper level. Every year when we put our lights away, it is tempting to toss them in a box and deal with them next year. We fight off this urge and wrap them up carefully so that they are easy to get out the next time we want them. Not to read too much into it, but isn’t this the temptation we fight all of the time? That deep urge to put off until later something we could/should easily take care of now. A few minutes now make things so much easier later. Our problems, like our Christmas lights, seem to get more and more tangled when ignored.

Speaking of which, I think I have a pile of grading around here somewhere that I should get to before even more piles up.

On Andy Rooney and Fame

Andy Rooney is stepping down from 60 Minutes. In his sign-off piece, he offers reflections on his years as a writer (which he said he still is, and thus is not retiring, just leaving 60 Minutes). I remember watching him as a kid growing up. My folks watched the show regularly, and he ended pretty much every episode. (In fact, my Dad posted this on Facebook.) He was amusing in his crotchety ways, and often said things that others were too polite to say aloud. I found his reflection on fame in the piece most interesting. (The whole video is below.) From the Huffington Post article on the sign off:

Rooney said in his farewell piece that he has lived a lucky life, luckier than most. But befitting his trademark crotchety nature, he voiced one parting complaint: He doesn’t like being famous, nor does he like being bothered by fans.

“I spent my first 50 years trying to become well known as a writer, and the next 30 trying to avoid being famous,” he said. “I walk down the street now or go to a football game and people shout, `Hey, Andy!’ And I hate that.”

So if you see him in a restaurant, Rooney said as he signed off, “please, just let me eat my dinner.”

This is a fitting reminder to those of the current generation who waste their time seeking fame and fortune. (Have you seen reality TV “stars”?) Fame and recognition is only enjoyable if your life is empty. It is a drug that hides and masks the emptiness inside for a time. When Rooney finally gained the fame he had wanted, he realized that what he really wanted was peace. He wanted to be able to enjoy a dinner with his family without interruption. The fame that had seemed so important actually interfered with his ability to enjoy life; contrary to all of his expectations.

For the Christian, life should not be about fame, at least not in the eyes of the world. I actually get concerned about Christian leaders who get famous. This is part of the reason I didn’t jump on the Francis Chan “bandwagon” when he suddenly rushed to popularity. I was afraid that the fame meant that his message wasn’t Scriptural, but instead intended to make people feel good. Since then I’ve listened to him read Forgotten God on a book on tape (or CD in the car, in my case) and been impressed. I’m currently reading Crazy Love. The books are great, and accurately portray a Scriptural understanding of faith. However, the popularity of the books has done little, it seems, to change the way people actually lives. In the books Chan calls on believers to sell out, to stop adhering to an Americanized version of Christianity and place ourselves fully into a relationship with Christ that takes over and is overwhelming. This sounds good. It sounds like what the Bible calls us to, and we are quick to give our mental assent to the ideas. But when it comes time to really do it, we often don’t follow through.

It is easier to give in to the culture of being “good enough”, while still hanging on to our dreams of fame and prosperity. We haven’t realized the emptiness of fame (as Rooney has discovered) and the fleeting joy of money and possessions. We like to tell ourselves that with just one more raise or promotion we will be happy and have money to give joyfully. The truth is that our income is never the problem; the problem is our heart. If we really wanted to, we would find a way to refigure the budget to fit in time, money, and energy for the type of self-sacrifice to which God calls us. I’ve seen people sacrifice all sorts of things to get the house they want, the HDTV, the car of their dreams, the vacation they “deserve”, etc. Very few people will make that type of sacrifice to free up time, money, and energy to be available when God leads them to give.

I’m not saying I’ve arrived; I haven’t. I’m still in progress, and Joy and I talk about this all of the time. Of course money issues come up, and we have to figure out how to prioritize what is really important. In some cases, I know we’ve got this wrong. We’re finally nearing the end of paying off the debt for the mistakes we made early in our marriage when it comes to prioritizing our spending. As we free up money that is no longer paying down debt, I hope we don’t fall into the temptation to add other things to the budget just for our comfort without leaving plenty of space for God to control our funds.

I challenge my readers to do an inventory. Where have you allowed your desire for fame and prosperity to overtake an area where God wants control? (Hint: God wants control of every area, so think broadly!) Andy Rooney missed the boat, I think. He wanted peace, but wasn’t willing to pay the price. He says that he has tried to avoid being famous. How did he do this? By appearing on TV every week and publishing nationally syndicated newspaper pieces. I’m not sure I understand. He blamed us, his viewers, for inconveniencing him, when he should have done a self-inspection. If he really hated the fame, all he had to do was quit, and live his life out of the spotlight again. If he wanted the prosperity and income that came with the fame, blaming us for taking the joy out of his life is disingenuous. I hope that I am not like Rooney in this respect. Yes, it is nice to have the comforts of life, but if they come at the expense of fulfillment in life and reward with my Creator and Savior in eternity, the price is way too high.

Here is Rooney’s piece:

Missional Communities at McBIC

My home church, McBIC (Mechanicsburg Brethren in Christ) has been talking about missional communities in the services the past month or so. This week, our Senior Pastor and one of the other pastors on staff posted this video to talk about what missional communities look like at McBIC and share their vision. I know that this idea is popular in Christian circles, so I thought I’d share it here so that my readers could give me their feedback and thoughts, then I can either share with Pastor Layne or Pastor John or point them to this post. I’m especially curious what my friend Rob Martin will think, given that he is the one who I first heard talking about the ideas that are at work here. Thanks!

Personally, I had an obvious connection to the foster care/adoption idea. We have adopted from the foster system, and have not felt a release that we are done with that. Right now, we are not actively engaged in the system, but there is a good chance we will be again at some point. Either way, God has certainly been working on our hearts since the early days of our marriage to impress on us his heart for the orphans at home and abroad. The idea of being part of a community within McBIC that could support foster care and adoption is pretty exciting to me!

How to Get a College Education

John Fea Teaches Messiah College Students

John Fea is up to his old habits: providing thought provoking posts that state things I’ve been thinking about in clearer, more concise language than I could. I’ve long been frustrated with students who seem to want to skate through Messiah College with the minimum their money can buy. They don’t want me to challenge their mathematical abilities, or ask them to think about connections between course material and faith. They especially tend to moan about their general education courses and the things they are asked to consider and debate there. They seem surprised that Messiah would expect them to think about ideas from perspectives other than their own. It seems to me that some of these students would have been happier going to a secular technical school where general education and the liberal arts would not have gotten in the way.

Personally, the Bible courses I took (I ended up one course short of a minor) were not good for my GPA, but they helped me to think more deeply and critically about my beliefs, and impacted the way I look at my specialty, Statistics. Fea joins me in the wondering in this week’s Patheos column:

Unfortunately, too many students today are unwilling to engage in the kind of risk-taking that is essential to education. Many Christian parents think that college is a place where “cherished beliefs” should be affirmed, not challenged. They want their children to have a four year experience in which they are told that everything they have ever believed about life, God, society, science, etc., is true.

Quite frankly, such an approach to college education baffles me. If this is what college is about, then what is the point? Why spend tens of thousands of dollars on an experience that will not stretch the mind? Students can participate on sports teams, make friends, have meaningful social experiences, find a spouse, play in the band, or learn certain specialized skills, and still not be educated. Why not just send your kids to a four-year Christian camp?

Please don’t misread me. The kind of transformative liberal arts education I am talking about here does not mean that students must always abandon their most cherished beliefs in order to be truly educated. This is why wisdom is so important to the process. While education certainly requires a willingness to “surrender ourselves for the sake of a better opinion,” wisdom, as Schwehn puts it, “is the discernment of when it is reasonable to do so.”

And therein lies the balance. To truly get an education and draw closer to a complete understanding of God’s work in the world, we must fully engage with other beliefs and ask for God’s Spirit to guide us into the Truth. This might be a painful process; I would be surprised if it wasn’t. This is often a long process. At least it has been for me. There have been many truths that God has been in a long process of bringing me to see. Maybe I’m just dense, but I doubt that this experience is unique. Many of the beliefs that I grew up with I still possess, but not all.

Another point here is that this might relate to the debate over the continuation of the faith. If we don’t teach our youth to process and evaluate truth in this way, they may come to think that all of their faith is a package, and that if they want to believe one competing claim, they must abandon all of their faith in the process. If we allow our kids to consider various perspectives, and see how every individual is responsible for their own faith, we might build more robust believers. This is part of discipleship, it seems to me. I want my kids to seek after God, and to learn to trust His Spirit to guide them. If they only every believe things because I tell them that they are true, I become an idol in their lives. This is not appropriate, and would be a huge failure on my part. If my kids grow up to pursue their relationship with God through the Messiah, Jesus, then I will have done my job, whether they follow all of my theology or not. I hope that my kids are blessed enough to study under professors as dedicated to this process as Fea is, if they decide that college is right for them.