I am feeling reflective as I write this. I was grateful to have been able to get my first shot for the COVID vaccine this past Thursday, one year to the day after the WHO declared COVID-19 a global pandemic.
I posted this on Instagram afterward getting the vaccine, feeling grateful:
What a year it has been! And yet, God is faithful. Despite all of the hardships, frustration, angst, anxiety, and depression of this past year--for me personally, and perhaps for you as well--I have learned to more faithfully rely on God as my refuge and strength (in a Psalm 46 kind of way) on a day-to-day basis than ever before. When I hear people talk about "going back" to the way things were before the pandemic, I long for some parts of that too. But I also realize how this past year has changed me, in both unhealthy ways (like stress eating as a coping strategy, and a lot more time scrolling on social media) and healthy ways (like more intentionally creating quiet times with God, and growing in being okay with being "just okay.") While I certainly hope to reset some of the unhealthy ones...but I don't want to too quickly "go back" to the way things were before, if it means I might forget and lose hold of some of the good things that have been happening in my life too.
All of this has me thinking about this lovely song, from one of my favorite bands, Rend Collective. The song is "Counting Every Blessing," and it was released some time before the pandemic year (in 2018, I think?) I invite you to listen, and I hope it gives you a lift in the way it buoys my spirits every time I listen to it. It's not a panacea song of, "See, everything is great!" but more of a, "Even when things are hard, or unclear, I can still see that God is in control of all things.
I've been playing my guitar a lot more regularly at home lately. I'm not 100% sure what that's about. Often I gravitate toward playing when I'm feeling sad, or upset, or having other big feelings that I don't really want to talk about, and instead they come out through the strings of my guitar. Tonight I wasn't really feeling any big feelings, but I still headed to the basement and pulled out my guitar for a while to make some music.
I know my limitations as a musician. I can play fine enough--particularly if I have the chords for a song--I can play pretty much anything, but it won't necessarily sound like it does on the radio. I mostly make a joyful noise, if you know what I mean.
I got my first guitar as a high schooler. I was 16, and I took lessons for a few months. I learned enough to get started, but I didn't exactly take to it immediately. But my guitar came with me to college, and I think that's where I really started to learn for real. I still have some chord sheets that I printed off from the On-Line Guitar Archive in the mid 1990s. (Ah, OLGA...I remember you when...) Maybe you can picture me with a mop of blonde hair (with a center part, because, you know, the mid 90s) and wearing flannel and jeans with holes in the knees, strumming away on my acoustic guitar in my apartment? I can admit now that I harbored some secret dream of being part of an acoustic alternative rock group--it was the age of MTV unplugged and all that, after all! But that's a late-adolescent imagination, I suppose.
Still, it's funny how the songs I played then are the ones I still know by heart. "Time" by Hootie and the Blowfish. "Run Around" by Blues Traveler. "Breakfast at Tiffany's" by Deep Blue Something. "One Headlight" by The Wallflowers. "Untitled" by Collective Soul. "Walk on the Ocean" by Toad the Wet Sprocket. "All for You" by Sister Hazel. "The Freshman" by the Verve Pipe. "Lightning Crashes" by Live. (Oh, so many songs...) Some of these bands you might know...others probably not. But they left a mark on me, and they are still part of me.
And, of course, my favorite band of all from that era, Jars of Clay. Jars was my go-to Christian band for...well, honestly, for the past 25 years. As my taste in music has changed and expanded over the years, this is one band that stuck: I'm a forever-fan of these guys, and the way they take their faith so seriously, and the way it informs their musicianship. Their self-titled first album...I must have listened to that one a hundred times during the 1995-96 school year. And, here I am 25 years later... and I can still play many of those songs off the top of my head--by heart.
But it's interesting how we talk about "knowing songs by heart," isn't it? Somehow, these songs that I played so often in my apartment got deep inside of me, into...my heart?
And tonight, that's where I was, in the basement, strumming and singing. Like it was the spring of 1996...I was playing one of my very favorite Jars songs, "Worlds Apart." If you're not familiar with the song, I'd welcome you to take a listen:
I love these lyrics. I love the music of this one. The poetry of this song speaks to me.
And in this contemporary moment, where everyone--me too!--seems outraged about everything, maybe this is the prayer that I need to be praying again. (Maybe you too?)
I am the only one to blame for this Somehow it all ends up the same Soaring on the wings of selfish pride I flew too high and like Icarus I collide
With a world I try so hard
To leave behind
To rid myself of all but love
To give and die
...
To love you, take my world apart To need you, I am on my knees To love you, take my world apart To need you, broken on my knees
All said and done I stand alone Amongst the remains of life I should not own It takes all I am to believe In the mercy that covers me
Did you really have to die for me? All I am for all you are Because what I need And what I believe Are worlds apart And I pray
To love you, take my world apart To need you, I am on my knees
To love you, take my world apart
To need you, broken on my knees
...
Not out of any self-righteousness here...but I needed to sing this song tonight. I needed to pray these words tonight. I need to get over myself. I need to stop thinking so highly of myself, and my opinions, and my self-assumed rightness, as if I can look down my nose at people who think differently than I do, judging them as wrong, because I must be right.
Right now, I'm feeling that I need to humble myself a little bit. Try to be a little more like Jesus. Stop trying so hard to build my own kingdom, and care more about building His.
Take my world apart.
Certainly this is not scripture...its poetry, music.
Take my world apart.
But I think this song captures the gospel.
Take my world apart.
Help me to care more about loving You, loving my neighbors, loving my fellow humans who are created in Your image, loving this world you have made.
Take my world apart, Jesus.
And let me step more and more into Your world, Your kingdom, Your way of being.
I am grateful that I have colleagues who check in on me regularly. My dear friend and colleague in the office next door asked me this morning how the weekend was, and I shared a few of the highs and lows. I'm feeling a lot of anxiety and concern for the church, and the world, and our fractured political climate in the US right now, but being able to share this with a friend who really listens sure helps. As we concluded our short conversation, he reminded me that sometimes we just need to "do the next right thing."
And so, I headed to my office and got on to the many tasks of the day...and I found a song from Frozen 2 running in my head...
And, perhaps strangely, I'm thinking about Psalm 119:105 right now:
Your word is a lamp to my feet
and a light to my path.
I once heard a sermon where my pastor pointed out that the psalmist doesn't say God's word is a spotlight that makes every step on the path clear to us. It's a lamp, perhaps so dim that it only gives enough light for us to see our feet on a dark and unfamiliar path, enough light for us to take the next step on the journey. And that's what faith is about, I think. Not that we have every step of the journey plotted out, but that we have confidence that God goes with us on every step of the journey, and that He already knows the path ahead of us, and that's enough.
And I guess that's my reflection for today. Not the "gospel according to Disney," or anything like that. But when I feel like my world is too chaotic and out of control, I'll just take the next step in faith, make the next move that I can in harmony with the message of the gospel, ...and "do the next right thing," trusting that God goes with me, and that's enough for today.
A friend of mine recently posted a photo of me on Facebook. It's actually a photo of a page in the most recent issue of our University magazine for alumni, and supporters, and friends of the institution. It was in a piece entitled, "On Civil Discourse," and I was grateful to be interviewed for this important article. (Not that my contributions were so amazing, or anything.) I encourage you to read it; you can find it online here: On Civil Discourse.
My friend shared the photo with a post, "Check out my smart friend Dave speaking wisdom." I'm grateful that she thought this was wise! Here's the photo, grabbed from her Facebook post:
It's that time of the semester in science methods...the time when we are wading back into talking about how to approach teaching (potentially) controversial topics for Christians who teach science. Talking about how to teach topics like the age of the Earth, Darwinian evolution, human sexuality, climate change...it's an adventure, for sure.
I have included some version of this series of lessons as long as I've taught Elementary Science Methods, which goes back to 2006 now...this is my 20th time teaching the course! As I shared with my students in class today, it never gets "easier" for me to teach this content...but it does get "better." What I mean by that is, I recognize that there are a wide variety of viewpoints held by Christians on these topics, and it's always challenging to balance grace and truth. That part just doesn't get easier, and that was true when I was teaching middle school science, and it's definitely still true now that I'm teaching future teachers.
In our last class meeting, I advertised the topic of the day as teaching the age of the Earth, and we did talk about that. But, as I pointed out to my students, we actually spent more time talking about the Bible, than about scientific evidence. I wanted to name this specifically for my students, because I think that so often when (some) Christians ask the question, "So...just how old is the Earth?" the real question they are asking is, "Do you believe that the Bible is literally true, or not?" And I think that's an entirely reasonable question to ask, but it's not the same thing as thinking about the scientific evidence for the age of the Earth.
True confession: after finishing my doctorate in 2017, I had a hard time reading anything. (Not unrelated: I also had a hard time writing anything. But that's not really the point of this post...)
Honestly, I have had a hard time getting into reading anything for about 18 months. I'm closing in on two years since my dissertation defense now, and I'm finally getting back into reading.
Oh, it's not that I never read anything, of course. I get four different professional journals, and I always skim through each of them when they arrive, and read an article or two that really catches my attention. I get WIRED magazine, and I eventually always read through each issue--though I still have the December, January, and February issues on my nightstand...and I'm not yet finished with the December issue. I read a few novels in my hammock in the summer. And I still read quite a bit online, usually profession-related things from EdWeek, or things I find on Twitter. And I do read and re-read articles and chapters for writing projects I have ongoing.
But truth be told, until very recently, I haven't found as much joy in reading. I haven't been really reading for pleasure very often since I started my doctoral work in 2013. Of course, while I was in grad school, so much of my reading time was taken up with reading for class or for my own research. But in the almost two years since defending my dissertation, I haven't gravitated back to reading for pleasure.
Today I'm thinking about why this might be the case.
One of the things that I love about teaching at Dordt is that we deliberately pause, right in the middle of our week, to spend time together in worship.
Chapel is not mandatory. No one compels students to attend. And yet, most weeks 600-800 people (or more) gather at 11:00 a.m. to spend time together in song, in the Word, in reflection, in worship. No classes are scheduled for this time. All the offices on campus close. The Library closes. And so we gather.
Our institution is not a church, and we do not seek to replicate churchiness, really. Chapel is not intended to be a church service either. But, as members of the Church, Christ's Body here on earth, students, faculty, staff, and even friends from off campus come together to focus on the Author and Perfecter of our faith in a communal-yet-personal way.
It's Advent season as I write this, the season of the liturgical year when we consider the lead up to Christ's first coming, and experience the longing for Christ's second coming. It's an appropriate time for reflection on just who Jesus is. Today's chapel time was an excellent example of this, and perhaps best exemplified through one of the songs that was part of the worship time today: "Is He Worthy?" by Andrew Peterson. The worship team was joined by members of the chamber orchestra and the choir to lead us into God's presence today as they played and sang this song.
If you're unfamiliar with the song, or with Peterson's music in general, I urge you to take five minutes to listen to it, to reflect, and--I hope--to worship.
True confessions: this is one of my favorite songs anyway (the whole album Resurrection Songs is fantastic, in my humble opinion) but hearing it played and sung live today got me all choked up, and literally brought tears to my eyes. And I've continued humming it throughout the rest of my day ever since chapel.
And that's the gift that chapel at Dordt is to me: the opportunity to pause to worship, to refocus, to get re-centered in the midst of the busyness of a work week, and to carry that on throughout my day. Pausing to worship shapes the rest of my work as well.
It's been an exciting challenge for me to teach this Geography course for the first time this semester. My students have been fantastic, honestly. As I was welcoming them into our last class meeting today, I was handing out candy canes to wish them a Merry Christmas--a small token of my gratitude for their willingness to play along with all of my "crazy ideas" throughout the semester.
(Funny: a colleague who has also taught many of the same students paused at the door, seeing me with the candy canes. She looked in at the group of students who were getting settled for class, and said something like, "Wow, this is an amazing group of students!" So it's not just my bias here, right? She has taught them too, and can vouch for the fantastic-ness of this crew.)
A (belated) merry Christmas to you! I hope it was a happy time of celebrating for you.
I have not always loved the Christmas season. There have been years where the commercialization I see this time of year entirely overshadowed my joy of celebrating Christ's first coming. There have been years when I feel anything-but-joyful during the month of December. There have been years when I dreaded the busyness and stress that all-to-often permeate the American Christmas. But this year? Not so much. I have felt wonderfully joyful and peaceful, and my heart is full to the brim with hope and love, despite the challenges of the time since we last celebrated the Nativity. It's not that everything is perfect, but rather that I am able to see a bigger picture somehow, that I am able to rest in the security of being loved by an infinite God.
I had a tangible reminder of that on Christmas Eve night/early Christmas morning. My brother-in-law and I attended the Christmas vigil service at a nearby Episcopalian monastery. I am not Episcopalian by creed, so it was interesting to note the similarities and differences to other Christmas services I have attended in years past. I enjoyed gathering with seven monks and about a dozen other worshippers to celebrate Christ's coming.
My daughter, who is now a tween, has begun listening to the radio at her own volition. I knew this day would come.
We listen to a lot of music in our house, and many different genres. She gravitates toward pop music, likely swayed by her friends. She recently asked me to change the radio while we were driving someplace to a station that we do not have on one of our pre-set buttons. Now, this is no problem for me, because I actually have a very eclectic taste in music, and I like to talk with my kids about the kinds of music they listen to, and what they like and dislike.
While we were listening, we heard "Wildest Dreams" by Taylor Swift and "7 Years" by Lukas Graham, and then Mark Ronson & Bruno Mars's "Uptown Funk." Now, if you know any of these three songs, you might perceive that there is some potentially problematic content for a tween in any of them. So far as I can tell, much of it is flying over her head yet, at the moment, but we are going to keep listening to music together and talking about the lyrical content.
What makes this listening session notable for me was something she pointed out about "Uptown Funk." With a slightly embarrassed look, she stopped singing along and admitted that there is a "bad word" in the lyrics.
I recently spent a week serving at Royal Family Kids Camp. I was one of 74 adults there working with 38 kids from the foster care system. It's an absolutely amazing ministry, and I am proud to be part of our local camp.
People sometimes wonder what I do at camp. Maybe a strange stretch for a college professor to work with hurting kids?
That's me up in front, leading a silly song as part of our camp training. Image by Royal Family Kids of NW Iowa [All rights reserved]
Officially, my role is to serve as a member of the music and drama team. We are in charge of putting on a daily chapel time for the campers: singing songs, reading scripture in a way that connects with the kids, teaching a Bible lesson each day, and putting on a drama. We are also in charge of "breakfast club," which is an hour-long time of fun and silliness (and sometimes serious stuff too) to entertain and engage the campers while their guides take a much needed break. (The guides are absolutely amazing, basically being right with their campers 22 hours a day.) So...my role is to help out in entertaining and encouraging the campers, supporting the guides who work with the campers much more closely.
"But what do you actually do, Dave?"
To answer that question, I feel like I should quote Liam Neeson's character in the film Taken:
"I can tell you I don't have money. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills, skills I have acquired over a very long career."
So many people asked me this question at church this morning. I found it difficult to answer.
I spent the past week serving at Royal Family Kids Camp, a camp for kids in the foster care system. This was my second year with this organization, and the week at camp again stirred up all kinds of emotions. 38 campers were there, being served by 74 adults and young adults. The kids have all been part of foster care for reasons that are far outside of their control; they have been wounded by parents and others. The world has been hard for them, but many are incredibly resilient. That said, every one of the campers we served was hurting in some way, and many acted out.
Today is, apparently, Soren Kierkegaard's 203rd birthday. (Relevant Magazine told me so.) Perhaps not as quotable as the inestimable C. S. Lewis from a century later, but Kierkegaard has some zingers too.
Here's the one that struck me today:
The Bible is very easy to understand. But we Christians are a bunch of scheming swindlers. We pretend to be unable to understand it because we know very well that the minute we understand, we are obliged to act accordingly.
― Provocations: Spiritual Writings of Kierkegaard
Ouch.
That hits a little close to home. I know I've said things like this before. Perhaps you have too?
This past week I had the pleasure of attending the Q Ideas conference in Denver. "Q" is for "questions"...and the conference was about fostering conversation around those questions. The fundamental question, I think, after attending is this: "What does it mean to be the Church in contemporary culture?"
We convened at the Paramount Theater. Great venue!
This conference was unlike any other I have ever attended. The best way to describe it is TED Talks for evangelicals. The conference arranged for many different voices on contemporary issues facing the church, and the presenters spoke from their expertise and passions, giving 9 or 18 minute talks, followed by some discussion times. Presenters shared about diverse issues, from race relations, to legalization of marijuana, to transgender issues, to understanding calling, to Christian-Muslim relations, to artificial intelligence, to medical aid in dying, to gun control, to the current political climate in the United States. (And there were many more topics as well!)
A few years ago, our small group participated in a church-wide study of Timothy Keller's book The Prodigal God. It was an eye-opening look for me at the cultural context of Jesus' parable that we commonly refer to as "The Prodigal Son" as found in Luke 15:11-32. In the study, Keller notes that this story is traditionally retold to emphasize the grace of the Father to His wayward children--the prodigals, the ones running from His grace, though He is always ready to love them, to forgive them, to accept them into His family.
However...
Keller flips this notion on its head, by pointing out from the very beginning of the story, it isn't all about the runaway son. Keller notes that the story begins, "There was a man who had two sons..."
Today was a hard, hard day for me personally, and for the life of our church body: today we celebrated the life of a little one from our congregation; a 4-year-old whose life ended far too soon.
There are so many unanswered questions, so many wonderings, so many tearful moments. It was a beautiful day, but in a tragic sort of way. It was a wonderful time to surround a hurting family with the love of their broader church family. So many from our congregation came together to serve. My wife and I were asked to help lead the worship time, and we willingly agreed. The parents had selected songs that were especially meaningful for their family, including classics like Amazing Grace and Jesus Loves Me. They also included a more contemporary choice: Rend Collective's song, My Lighthouse.
If you aren't familiar with the song, here's the video. (I love these guys--their heart and passion come through in every song they sing...)
Our guest pastor in chapel today, the Reverend Doctor Paul Mpindi, quipped this line. I laughed, but now I'm wondering if he was right?
He was preaching on he story of the rich young ruler in Mark 10. In the story, a young man comes running to Jesus, falls at his feet, and asks, "What must I do to inherit eternal life?" Rev. Mpindi pointed out that he must have been hungry for the answer: he is identified in the story as being wealthy...and wealthy people don't run and fall down at someone's feet.
The story says that Jesus looked at this young man, and saw the heart of what he desired, and loved him. Jesus loved him!
And so, Jesus gives him this imperative: Go. Sell. Give. Come. Follow.
You want to inherit eternal life? Here's what to do:
Go home. Check out all your stuff.
Sell it all. ALL of your stuff.
Give it away. All your possessions.
Come back to me.
Follow me. Really follow.
And the story says that the young man was very sad to hear this. Despite Jesus' love for him, this was too much for him. And he went away...but not to Go - Sell - Give - Come - Follow, by the evidence in the story. He went away sad.
It was in this context--Jesus telling the young man to get rid of all the stuff--that Pastor Mpindi quipped his one liner.
Jesus, you want me to sell all my stuff, and give it all away? (I see his point. Jesus does sound like a Democrat here, doesn't He?)
But Pastor Mpindi was making a real point here. He challenged us to think about whether we are "Christians" or "followers of Jesus?"
(Is there a difference?)
(Yes.)
(Really?)
(Yes.)
(But c'mon...)
(You can be a Christian in name. Be a Christian who follows all the rules. Be a Christian who does good stuff. But if you aren't really trying to be like Jesus, you aren't really following Him.)
(Oh. Right.)
Go - Sell - Give - Come - Follow. He repeated this over and over again.
And it started to sink in.
I have been a "Christian" for most all of my life. But am I really striving to follow Jesus? To really follow Him? Even if it means sacrificing of myself? Denying myself, taking up my cross, and following?
When I'm honest...it's hard for me to let go. It's easier to be a "Republican Christian." But what if Jesus is calling me to follow Him...and what if this means I can't just play at this following business.
Am I a "Christian?" Or am I a "followers of Jesus?"
(Ouch. This has me thinking...)
---
If you'd like to listen to Pastor Mpindi's sermon, it will be available for your listening pleasure...and you will be challenged by it!
Today is my 18th first day of school as a teacher. Add to that 4 years of college, and 13 years of K-12, and one of preschool, if you want to count that too...and this is my 36th "first day" of school.
I spent last week serving at Royal Family Kids Camp, a camp expressly for kids in the foster care system. My last post shared a few of my initial reactions after my week, but I've continued to reflect on the experiences of the week, and now a whole week has passed since returning home from my six days at camp. I think I'm ready to share this now...
I am still processing the experience. On Monday of last week when I returned to the office, several people asked me, "Did you have a good week at camp?" That was a challenging question to answer, honestly. There were times of fun and great joy, for sure. There were also moments where I felt real sorrow, and even anger. Honestly, it's hard to encapsulate what I feel about it, because it's all so mixed up. It was an emotional blender of a week.
My wife and I celebrated our anniversary this past week. Eighteen years. Sometimes I look back and think, "We were just kids when we got married!" But it's been a good eighteen. And I'm so grateful that I have her in my life.
I love her, you see?
And she loves me.
And we're better together. But that doesn't mean we're perfect.
Love holds us together. And in those (very few) moments when we don't see eye-to-eye, when there is friction, when there is stress...we both know that we will get through it, that we'll be okay.
