Christmas 2009

Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judaea in the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem, Saying, Where is he that is born King of the Jews? For we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him. -KJV Matthew 2:1-2

Every experienced teacher knows of at least a few exciting moments when they have come up with a razzle dazzle lesson plan that “wowed” their students and brought their enthusiasm to a fever pitch. Great teachers live for those moments and yearn for more of them day by day. Students love it as well whenever learning is coupled with fun and excitement of any kind but especially days that include anything involving a live animal, loud noises, real paint, or a combination of smoke and fire. We educators understand the power of excitement and hands-on discovery and would love to infuse every lesson with fireworks or rabbits popping out of hats. Unfortunately, there is much in education that just does not lend itself to the dramatic. A good teacher can bring a certain amount of drama to any subject, and this administrator will encourage that at every turn. But try as we will, there are always those stretches in the educational journey where progress can only be achieved by a good supply of practice, repetition, and memorization that borders on or camps out in the bland land of the tedious.

Teachers have been made to feel guilty, at times, in today’s high energy world for lapses in the school day where repetitious exercises and drill are relied upon to imprint a concept or idea. Avant-guard teachers are even praised for not requiring any homework whatsoever on the part of their students. Yet we know that there is much to be gained through routine and daily practice that may, indeed, be entirely devoid of dramatics or “fun.” Artists will even tell us that discipline, commitment to practice, routine, and structure are the gateway to creative accomplishment having any lasting and real merit. Bertrand Russell wrote of the necessity to bear with the boredom of structure and discipline and argued that any society “that cannot endure boredom will be a generation of little men...unduly divorced from the slow processes of nature, in which every vital impulse withers.”*

I looked to the Christmas story this year and saw many instances where the main characters moved slowly to the center stage of world history through days, months, and even years of tedious labor. Shepherds were keeping watch over their flocks by night, a dreadfully dull duty when all others about them were asleep in their beds. Joseph subjected himself to the tediously slow pace of a cumbersome and pregnant young woman with many special needs while blindly following inconvenient orders that were the despised idea of a foreign king. And the wise men were professionals all who had dedicated years of study to their craft, patiently and studiously charting the heavens. They scratched at the puzzle of the ages of how all the stars swam in relationships that kept changing but yet seemed tied together in some ingenious dance. These wise men were products of a lifetime of study dedicated to a line of work that promised no immediate reward. Yet when the star appeared, they were there looking, observing, and alert to see its implications when everyone else saw nothing at all.

May we be found faithful in the dry valleys of duty while others chase after a mirage of shimmering illusion leading nowhere; an illusion that issues the siren call of instantaneous gratification, quick results, and easy execution. May we lead our children by word and example showing them how to persevere through adversity, weariness, and strain to obtain the rewards of both earthly study and eternal preparation. Let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not (Gal. 6:9). There are enough little men about us.

* As cited in Kathleen Norris, Acedia & Me (New York: Riverhead Books, 2008), 41

Significance

“Thou tellest my wanderings: put thou my tears into thy bottle: are they not in thy book?” - Psalms 56:8

Just how special are you? A clue comes from modern pathology science which has discovered the unique, special mark that each person carries within their DNA. A recent crime story took this simple fact one step further as investigators solved an abduction and murder case involving a 5 year old girl by analyzing the tear stains on the passenger side of her killer’s car. There, within those stains, was found the unmistakable proof of the little girl’s DNA identity. How poignant that this little girl’s tears solved her own murder case. How incredibly powerful is the knowledge that our tears are uniquely laced with our own one-of-a-kind personhood.

In ancient times, we are told that mourners at funerals would collect their tears in little bottles and place them with the body upon burial. Evidence of this has been found in tombs in Rome and Palestine sometimes in great profusion. From this we can flesh out the picture of Psalm 56:8 where God is said to collect our tears in His bottle; or as the indelible stains upon the pages of our record. Our tears are uniquely our own, and our God knows them all.

Two lessons come clear to me upon reflection on this truth. One, each one of us is completely different from all other persons who have ever walked on the earth or will take breath in this world. When the Scriptures talk about a victim’s blood crying out from the ground for justice, we know now that every drop of our blood has our name on it. We are imprinted from birth with a mark that sets us apart from all others. When lost in a large crowd of thousands or imagine ourselves swallowed up amidst the millions of China, we need never lose track of our own unique significance in the eyes of God. And, in fact, He has numbered the very hairs of our head. He sees the sparrow fall but proclaims we are of far greater worth. Such knowledge is too high for me. I cannot attain to it. Yet it is sweetly comforting.

Secondly, God has ordained that we live such lives where tears are inevitable. Sorrow and grief follow in our steps as surely as death follows life. Ever since our expulsion from the garden, pain and suffering are an endemic part of our lives. At one time, my immature thoughts considered pain as either the result of my own poor thought processes or someone else’s. If we were just smart enough, pain could be avoided altogether. Either that or pain was just a result of some bad luck which, like lightning, strikes without cause or warning: a twist of cruel but random fate. I see pain and suffering now as more a constant part of the fabric of our lives: as destined for us as earning our bread by the sweat of our brow.

Yet God, Himself, stepped into our world and took on the limitations and pain of man. Dorothy Sayers wrote, “For whatever reason God chose to make man as he is – limited and suffering and subject to sorrows and death – He had the honesty and courage to take His own medicine… He has Himself gone through the whole of human experience, from the trivial irritations of family life and the cramping restrictions of hard work and lack of money to the worst horrors of pain and humiliation, defeat, despair and death. When He was a man, He played the man. He was born in poverty and died in disgrace and thought it well worthwhile.”* We, too, can walk this vale of tears and find it all worthwhile. Especially as we know we are uniquely significant. Not only that, but we are hovered over by the lover of our souls, one who has experienced all the limitations of the flesh, who keeps a record of all our tears until the day when all sorrow shall cease; no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying when He will wipe away every tear.

*Dorothy Sayers, Creed or Chaos? (New York: Harcourt Brace, 1949), 4.

Completely Loved

“Henceforth I call you not servants; … but I have called you friends;” -John 15:15

A visit to Mrs. Miller’s 4^th gr. class was on my agenda the other week, and so I went to just observe and be as unobtrusive as possible. Before I could enter the room, however, a display of student work on the door arrested my attention and held me riveted by what I began to read. It was just one of those simple fill-in-the-blank exercises that elementary teachers use to get to know their students and elicit some creative expression. Under a photo of themselves, students filled in the blanks with statements about themselves that ranged from the humorous to the profound. A girl wrote: The important thing about me is that I love God. I love my family and my friends. I love my enemies but not working outside on a very hot day. Oh, that all of us found loving our enemies preferable over working outside on a very hot day. Wow! Another wrote: I like ice cream and vegetables but not mold! The most important think about me is I love Jesus, the Christ. Without a doubt, this most important thing is the most important thing. May we do as well to remember.

While these stabbed me to the heart (all the while standing there with a door half opened), one response brought tears to my soul that came close to seeping out the eyes. A girl wrote: The important thing about me is just being me! I like school so much! I like school because my teacher is fun, and my classmates are all great! I also like all the subjects – they are very fun but not English as much. I also like doing cartwheels (a lot) and playing with my sister! I think we play well together. But the most important thing about me is that I am completely loved, completely accepted, and completely significant!!!

I stood there stunned that any 4^th grader would be able to say that they were completely loved, completely accepted, and completely significant at that tender age. I wanted to file a letter of complaint against my upbringing and bring suit against all involved because I was never able to say any such thing let alone be able to even spell those words. How many of us could simply sit in wonder at how we might have matured, how different things might have been, and what results might have followed had we been able to say in 4^th grade, I am completely loved, completely accepted, and completely significant.

My first suspicion upon further reflection was that the parents had coached their daughter on what to say. And so I interviewed them over the phone trying to ascertain the source of these words that had so gripped my imagination. No, there was no dictation involved. The student had freely transcribed these stirring sentiments on her own. But there had been a conscious and deliberate pouring into this young heart a series of devotions taken from God’s word that underlined these very things. Though I am sure that these parents had invested much of their time in giving their children a sense of their own love and acceptance, in the end it is the Scriptures that brings the deepest and most satisfying answer to the child’s heart. For every child instinctively knows that there are secrets and closets within each of us that are known only to God. Parental love is important, but God’s love is even more important because he knows us, oh, so intimately. Once God’s love is grasped and accepted, we are free to love one another as witnessed by the positive words of affirmation towards all of life throughout this young girl’s responses.

It is my prayer that all our students may come to the full knowledge of our standing with God, the creator of heaven and earth, who stoops and deigns to call us, “friend.” Nothing shows the need more than a recent survey of Knox Co. middle school students which revealed that 17% of them had considered killing themselves, 12% had made a plan, and 7% had made an attempt. How desperate the need.

Grasping the Moment

All thy works shall praise thee, O Lord; and thy saints shall bless thee. KJV Psalms 145:10

I paused for traffic on this golden day, and watched in wonder as a swarm of leaves showered over me in a sudden frolic. Once dead upon the ground they held little fascination, yet in flight they spilled themselves in utter abandon, giving the moment a sudden delight. Just for me. They held their place for a season of green but now, they danced with the wind in a blaze of color for this one brief bit of time, just for me, and were gone.

There are these rich days of autumn in which the sun breaks through and lights up a few glorious hours of our year in which one tree in fifty suddenly grips our sight with special beauty. It bids us stop and just behold the color yellow rippling through a blue sky in a demonstration only nature can provide. And there, on the ground, lay a perfectly reflective puddle of yellow flakes anchored to a blackened trunk; mute testimony that says this is no illusion.

And just when I think I have seen the perfect tree with the most vivid hue, another bids me on to come and drink in an even more impressive scene. Now, orange and green blend in marbled splendor and surpass the dead of yellow. I cannot but dread that I am not able to take it all in; that there are more and better views just around the corner. And then I must cope with a sun that will not stand still, though I command and command, and in a few brief turns of time changes everything.

That sun, the same early morning companion I witnessed setting the eastern sky afire in red just a few days hence, refused to do my bidding then. I searched in vain for someone to come to my precipice and share in the sky splitting display that came but once in time. I needed a witness to verify the absolute glory of it all, but it would not wait, impatient to get about its task, and so the moment was gone, the masterpiece dissolving like some passing mist.

I witnessed, too, this week, a father bending over his two sons with tender but manly embrace. He spoke words of blessing tinged with words of challenge; instruction that gave their little lives direction and purpose; rails of steel laid with unmistakable affection into the hearts and minds of two young boys that would not fail to guide them hence and return them safe again. I looked at young eyes that were open to receive these assurances of grace with a trust affirmed by love and deep respect. The beauty of that moment held me transfixed until it, too, passed by.

This same day bore witness to the magic of two, new born babies who pulled at deep passions within a mother’s breast. Not just ‘a’ mother, but all mothers who happened on the scene. For some brief days, these little ones have the power to command and compel complete attention and cause many to stand in line for just a chance to hold them. What fascination to see such quiet and mute forms evoke such tender joy. It is the cry to grasp this moment of time that passes all too quickly, echoing memories of children grown and gone before.

I want to cling to all these moments for their raw beauty, but they pass before me as live drama defying all efforts to freeze them in place. I am forced to live in awe of the now and practice gratitude for these passing moments of beauty and grace. May God give me eyes to see all such passing scenes of splendor that touch my sleeves each day and enough joy in my heart that is sufficient to pay the proper obeisance.

Critical Thinking

“Ponder the path of thy feet, and let all thy ways be established.” Proverbs 4:26

For several weeks now, we have been featuring articles about critical thinking. Our capacity for rational thought is a wonderful and incredible gift from God and distinguishes us from the rest of creation. It is our aim in the educational process to awaken this gift and sharpen it for the glory of God. To neglect and stifle our capacity for thought is tantamount to hiding our “talent” in the ground like the wicked and slothful servant. God commands us to “ponder the path of our feet,” to think carefully of where our lives are headed and to willingly choose His ways over our own. Joshua succinctly summarized the challenge to all humanity when he challenged the children of Israel to “…choose you this day whom ye will serve…” (Josh. 24:15). Our gift of rationality is rooted in our free will given to us by God so that we may choose to serve him willingly and not as the angels do, out of compulsion.

The famous French sculptor, Rodin, has left us with a powerful image in his statue of “The Thinker.” It is the ultimate picture of one engaged in deep and careful thought. What most folks do not know is that this particular sculpture was part of a much larger frieze that surrounded a majestic and ornate set of doors. The whole piece was a depiction of scenes from Dante’s Inferno which describes several layers of hell in increasing terror. Over the top and center of these doors sits “the thinker” contemplating the destiny of his eternal soul. What a wonderful portrayal of how seriously we should take Pro. 4:26 above.

In a day and age where we can access incredible boatloads of information at a touch of the finger and where the media is overwhelming us with messages of every kind, we need discerning minds and spirits as never before “…that we henceforth be no more children, tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the sleight of men, and cunning craftiness, whereby they lie in wait to deceive….” (Eph. 4:14). God is calling us out to be men and women whose minds are girded up to receive the end of our faith (1Pet. 1:13).

But now comes the disclaimer, and it is big. Critical thinking will not in and of itself make us good persons or even necessarily lead us to a knowledge of the most high God. Because of the fall, our rational capacities are unreliable and capable of great self-deception. We can all tell stories of some of the most quick minded but evil people we would ever not want to meet. Pol Pot, the mass murderer of Cambodia, had a college education from France. Lenin was a keen intellectual of the highest order. Your own children are proof of the tremendous ingenuity and capability of the human mind for manufacturing excuses and shifting blame. It is the heart of man that is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked (Jer. 17:9). We need a heart transplant as well as an education. Our theology should determine our morality, but often it is the other way around. Our morality is quite capable of determining our theology.

The heart and the mind need renewing. They represent two ends of a stick held in tension. We choose God with our minds, and He, in turn, changes our hearts. God touches our hearts with his love, and then renews our minds with His Holy Spirit illumining His truth to us. Which comes first? Not quite sure. But as beings created in His image, I know we are to be people of incredibly loving hearts and sound minds. May we grow up to the fullness of who He created us to be.

Mercy and Truth,

Critical Thinking I

And they could not take hold of his words before the people: and they marveled at his answer, and held their peace. -Luke 20:26

“But I don’t want to think. Just give me the answer.” This is a line guaranteed to make teachers grind their teeth and employers lose any thoughts of seeing management potential. It is a common complaint of high school teachers in talking of their students. I know, because for years I have had to listen to one every evening. There are two kinds of knowledge; one, the anecdotal collection of facts ranging from the essential to the trivial, and the other, those ideas, principles, and suppositions buttressed by a superstructure of reasonings and conclusions. We learn the essentials of 2+2 but then launch these numbers into the realm of theoretical possibilities that propel men to the moon and back again. In between the two, an ocean of hard reasoning and creative thinking must take place that carefully builds theorem upon theorem, test upon test, and conclusion upon conclusion. Those who dare to think and stitch together the known to the unknown are those who build our future and become the path makers of tomorrow.

Building that kind of intellectual muscle takes time and practice. It is our nature to avoid strengthening exercises of any sort. We would prefer our meals fast, our stairs to be elevators, and our lessons spoon fed. Such attitude is quite common in adults, and we should not be surprised to find it in children. High level problem solving skills do not come naturally but must be fostered, taught, and encouraged. Yes, children will quickly find ways of reaching a high-shelved cookie jar but must be taught the problem solving involved with washing clothes, simple geometry, or finding a cure for cancer.

C.S. Lewis credits a teacher, a Mr. Kirkpatrick, with teaching him the skill of dialectic, the art or practice of examining ideas logically to determine their validity.* Lewis was boy of 16 when sent away to the care of this giant of a man who became affectionately among the Lewis family as “the great Knock.” He met young protogé at the train station and walked him into town. “Kirk” began their amble with the solemn pronouncement that they were “proceeding along the principal artery between Great and Little Bookham.” Not knowing what to say, Lewis tried to make small talk commenting that the scenery of Surrey was much “wilder” than he had expected. “Stop!” shouted Kirk with a suddenness that made him jump. “What do you mean by wildness and what grounds had you for not expecting it?” What followed was more “conversation” in which each answer was torn to shreds. It finally occurred to Lewis that his teacher really wanted to know. Lewis was guided to the conclusion that he had no right whatsoever to any opinion on the subject. So began one of the most significant relationships in the formation of Lewis’s keen mind and intellect. He acknowledged that many boys would have fled such a withering inquisition, but for him it was all red beef and strong drink. “Here was a man who thought not about you but about what you said.” We all owe debt of gratitude to “the great Knock” for those early lessons.

I have asked our teachers this year to look to their curriculum to see if we are doing enough to encourage critical thinking skills. We will never be able to supply our students with enough answers for life. In fact, we have no idea of the questions and challenges they will face as the future generation. It is for us to equip them with the skills of using their God given minds to be able to think through the unknowns of tomorrow with sound reasoning and the application of Scriptural principles. (to be continued)

*Surprised by Joy, C.S. Lewis

The New

"Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing!” -NIV Isaiah 43:18-19

It has begun. A parent stopped me on Monday to exclaim how the first day of school is always so exciting. I marveled, somewhat, as this was coming from a former teacher who had experienced many first days of school in her recent past. Yet, she was genuinely excited in large part because of her children and their first day of a new year, a new grade, a new teacher, and a new school. She was not alone as I sensed the electricity everywhere on that first morning. Our new teachers, especially, were tuned to a fever pitch. And returning teachers were exultant over the new students they were receiving.

There is something distinctly human about all this. There is an inherent love for new things in the human heart that can’t be disguised. A new job, a new house, or a new baby all bring a certain kind of joy and excitement that is undeniable. What is it that resonates within us to rejoice in something new? I can’t help but believe that it derives from the image of God whose stamp we bear. Our God is a creative God who took delight in creation with a full spectrum of colors, infinite variety, and downright whimsy. Witness the lowly walking stick or the marvel of the hummingbird or a dog’s hind leg and you will see incredible creativity at every hand. Not only did God create the tree but, indeed, thousands of species of them each bearing its own special design, grain, and inherent characteristics that woodworkers love to explore. Creation is a riot of excess that surrounds us all.

So, too, man is not content to live out his days in tedious monotony. To do so is the very diabolical heart of incarceration and imprisonment. My grandchildren at age one and two have to find something to do, to play with, to experience anew with every passing hour much to the tired chagrin of their parents. Adults, also, must create and build and learn each day or else their souls begin to whither and die within them. It is an intense and very real force that resides within. And new challenges, new opportunities, new experiences awaken in us that God given fire to imitate in part what He has done in the whole. It is what we were born to do. I know of no other adequate explanation.

May we all keep that fire burning within us to grow and exult in the new, the novel, the fresh and to relish opportunities for innovation, pioneering, and creating. I must remind myself that this is a unique year of life for this school and each of your children, and it will never pass this way again. That thought should impel us all to remove our hum drum shoes of habit and custom for we are standing on holy ground. Let us rejoice as well in the newness of life that God is still in the process of building within each of us. He has not rested from His labors but desires earnestly that we become more and more conformed to the image of His Son. To that end, He still works and toils and, I suspect, takes joy in it with each new day.

the human heart

“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?” -Jeremiah 17:9

That is not a very cheery verse of Scripture, I know. And not something I would normally expect to write about in the middle of our summer break when we are enjoying trips to the beach, picnics with family, and all sorts of light hearted and innocent pleasures. It represents, as well, one of the most despised of Christian doctrines, that of the natural depravity of man. It may be the most despised yet it remains the one doctrine for which there abounds the most evidence. Sickeningly so.

I returned from close to three weeks of relative isolation from the news media and events of the day to discover in our local newspaper fresh evidence of all the above. News item after news item detailed in astonishing fashion the foolishness of men and women, even in our own community, many of whom were members of our fashionable and educated elite. Some had simply destroyed their own reputations while others had utterly destroyed the lives of others. I am privileged only to read about such matters. My friend, a policeman, has to investigate first hand and witness the underside of our community in all its gruesomeness. I can see and feel the anguish and astonishment that turns over in his soul each time I meet him when he even starts to hint at the stories he cannot tell me.

I was reminded of the ever present nature of sin and how it seeps into the lives of all around us while traveling by plane to Seattle. I observed with some admiration a stewardess moving so confidently about our plane calmly directing the passengers, handling all the little issues arising in those cramped quarters, and handing out refreshments at 40,000 feet. She was our authority figure completely at ease with her responsibilities and master of her high-flown domain. Yet I could not help but marvel in over hearing her discussion with a co-worker as they sat awaiting landing as she poured forth her personal anguish over her own teen-age children who were not doing the right thing. How could one so confidant and capable in directing perfect strangers be so powerless to direct the lives of her own children? And how could I be so easily fooled in failing to see a life of quiet desperation that exists behind such a professional façade?

Yes, sin is everywhere, even crouching at our own heart’s door. Alexander Solzhenitsyn wrote of how desperately he wanted to become a part of a traveling drama troupe while confined in Stalin’s prison camps even though it furthered Stalin’s evil propaganda. It was easy duty away from picks and wheel barrows. A year after failing to gain entrance to this traveling team, he learned that their truck had been hit by a train en route to another camp. “…I once more realized that the ways of the Lord are imponderable. That we ourselves never know what we want. And how many times in life I passionately sought what I did not need and been despondent over failures which were successes.”*

I see quite readily the huge fault lines in the lives of so many around me as they fall into ruin. Yet I must retain a healthy distrust of my own desires, both base and sublime, for I truly do not know what I really want. Jesus said I am nothing more than a sheep after all, one of God’s most helpless and mindless creatures. We are called to walk humbly with our God. Read your newspaper, talk to a policeman, or simply watch the well heeled lives around you stumble and fall. Together, they are a very ample source of humility to remind us all that there except for the grace of God go you and I. Nothing like a little portion of soberness in the middle of your summertime fun. Sorry.

*The Gulag Archipelago Two, Harper & Row, 1975, p. 501

Thus is the man blessed who fears the LORD. Your sons will be like olive shoots around your table. NIV Psalms 128:3-4

The kindergarten teachers along with Krista Allison put together a royal kindergarten graduation ceremony on Monday evening. Running a little late from the events of the day, I arrived to discover the auditorium filled with parents, siblings, and proud grandparents. It was hard to sneak in unobtrusively especially when you are taking part in the program.

The students did what they did best, looking “cuter than a puppy under a little red wagon on Sunday,” as Tennessee Ernie Ford used to say. As each student had their moment in the spotlight, I could hear the murmured sighs of joy coming from one family and then the next. The slide show was melting hearts right and left as images of innocence paraded by. Any number of tissues were consumed during the evening as all bore witness to a year of spectacular growth and change in these young children. If nothing else, the evening highlighted what a treasure each little life represented and how it was such an honor and privilege to have shared in one year’s life of a child. And to see your children awake from your dreams is a feeling only a parent knows. The cameras were rolling and a ton of digital images were preserving the moment.

Of course, these were the very same children that barely a few months ago had so provoked their parents that they were tempted to pinch their little heads off. Moms and dads were squaring off and telling each other to do something about THEIR offspring, blaming each others genes for any and all behavioral problems.

Now that is family life for you: proud as punch one day and ready to rip an arm off to beat someone over the head with it the next. But time has a way of smoothing out the bumps, and when we stand back and get a glimpse of the big picture, we are amazed at what God had done and is doing through it all. We are participating in the very act of creation, growth, life, and blessing. For every one inconvenience, late night sickness, broken lamp, or scene of public embarrassment our children bring, we stand amazed at the grace that takes us through it all. Growing up is not a neat and clean affair. But it is powerful as we see it bring into being a story all its own, one that has never been told before since the beginning of time. And we were there.

So it is looking back on this year as an administrator. Life in the CFC family was not always neat nor clean and sometimes even downright messy and painful. Yet there was life, pulsing, moving, growing, learning, and always riddled with some laughter along the way. As I reflect, I, too, will grasp and hold the beauty of it all as we participated in the mystery of one year in the life of a child, times 150. Yes, there were tears, scuffed knees, failed tests, notes home, and even a conference or two. But stepping back to sense the big picture, I celebrate on this day a year of school busting out with life and the promise of more growth to come. My cameras are rolling. I am murmuring pride at all that these students are becoming. And, yes, I am proud to know that I and all those who labor alongside of me had just a little something to do with it all. I will keep my tissues hidden, but you will see them if you look closely. Thanks for letting us participate in the lives of your children. What a privilege.

The Visual Part IV

“the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes,” KJV Genesis 3:6

I will attempt to close this series on the overwhelming “power of the visual” and try not to get too radical in my prescription. No promises, however. Up to now, I have attempted to convince the reader that we actually may have a problem that has real consequences for learning, for development, and for all that we know about us as our “humanness.” That is no small challenge. Many of us have drifted to where we are quite unaware or indifferent to the increasing power of the visual in our age. So what do we do about it?

As with any problem of abundance, whether it be food, wealth, time, or whatever, the answer is to find the joy and freedom of a disciplined lifestyle. Food is for the body. The body is not for food. Simple enough. Yet entering into a covenant with oneself to limit our intake to only what we need is such an ongoing problem for us all because of the smorgasbord of affordable possibilities that lie at every street corner. So, too, with the visual. It is everywhere and well within the reach of most every household. We can turn our living rooms into a totally captivating arcade at minimal cost. The question is, “Should we?” And if we do, how much of our weekly schedule should we allow it to consume? And at what age does it inhibit normal development?

The visual industry, when you reflect on it, is all about entertainment. Television, movies, games, and the internet are predominantly used to entertain. Yes, there are educational applications to all of the above, but that is not what draws teens and twenty-somethings into addiction. We need to ask ourselves just how much of our lives we will allow ourselves to be entertained. Have we set limits for ourselves and our families? To surfeit ourselves with entertainment is to stand with the ancient Romans crying out for more “bread and circus.” Creativity dies. Initiative dies. Any sense of mission dies.

Secondly, I believe we need to develop a keener sense of age appropriateness. A driver’s license is given into the hands of teens only upon a developed sense of maturity, an attained legal age, training and testing. I believe we need to start questioning the age at which we should entrust the powerful visual tools we have created. It wasn’t too long ago when parents debated the wisdom of allowing a telephone in the room of a teenager. We knew it was a gateway to private conversations into the nether world of the prevailing teen culture. And now we allow teens and pre-teens not only to have their own totally private cell phones but also unfettered access to the social websites. Social websites (and even email) are powerful tools. I question the maturity of teens and pre-teens to handle them responsibly without being drawn into a world of peer pressure, secret chatter, or mind numbing trivia. There is enough cruelty to be suffered at the hands of other teens without exposing them to on-line anonymity, taunts, and intimidation. If a child must be allowed to carry a cell phone, I would recommend the cheap and disposable types sold at drug and dollar stores with renewable minutes. It is all my wife has or needs. Picture phones are now being bent to the most abominable purposes in the hands of children. Time on video games needs to be carefully regulated and monitored. At any sign of flagging attention spans for the more mundane things of life (such as reading), I would recommend their removal altogether. Let’s stop using movies to babysit or pacify our children. It is the “soma”* of our age. Let them learn to entertain themselves. It is essential for creative development. Constant exposure to fast paced visual entertainment destroys attention spans in the youngest of children, much to the bane of teachers everywhere.

If you are uncertain as to how much the visual distractions of our age are affecting your home, I challenge you to go on a 30 day fast from all forms of electronic gadgets, games, and images. See and observe what happens in the life of your family. If you see little difference, all may be well and good. You are probably at a level that is appropriate and sustainable. But if you or your children experience the pains of withdrawal, not knowing what to do with yourselves, there is a problem you will need to address. A 30 day fast will, in and of itself, cause you to turn to one another for interaction, entertainment, and relationship building. Homework and chores may even take on new significance and meaning. And no telling what kind of hobbies may develop.

We may look at the Amish and laugh at their self-imposed exile from modern life, but secretly, we must all wonder if they don’t have something right. Indeed, they have had the courage to look modernity in the face and raise the question, “Just because we can, should we?”

* “soma” – a state supplied drug to pacify the general populace in Huxley's BRAVE NEW WORLD.

the visual part II

"the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes,” Genesis 3:6 KJV

It is easy, very easy, for my generation to fall asleep at the switch with regards to the dangers of digital addiction. First of all, many of us older fogeys have little interest in video gaming or social web sites as we either are content with our lives, busy as they are, or these things are past our comfort zone in this computer age (yet there is a spike among retired folk who have more time). Secondly, I see where many parents are enamored with anything involving computer skills, and the thought of their children and grandchildren learning how to navigate their way around the world of the web is a point of pride: “My child is learning the future!” Thirdly, we are only now becoming aware of the reality of digital addiction and the threat it has become.

In 1995, a New York psychiatrist, Dr. Ivan Goldberg invented the term, “Internet Addiction Disorder,” as a joke to parody an association manual just released cataloging all the known mental disorders. To his surprise, he received a rash of mail from people and colleagues confessing their “addiction.” It is no longer a joking matter. South Korea is the most wired country on earth with a 97% broadband penetration into homes versus only 67% in the U.S. The S. Korean government now estimates up to 30% of those under the age of 18 are at risk of internet addiction. Internet cafes have proliferated to the level of some 20,000 so-called “PC Bangs” where rows and rows of mainly young boys and men line up to play video games. The Korean government has now set up 200 counseling centers and has trained more that 1,000 internet addiction counselors. Two week camps are set up to treat young people in “p.c. free” zones where the aim is to restore a “lost childhood” with real time activities with real people. China has over 300 treatment centers and estimates about 10 million adolescents qualify as addicted. It has ordered online game operators to install “fatigue” systems that post warnings and diminish point rewards after three hours of play.

The next version of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual from the Psychiatric association, due out in 2012, very well could contain some form of disorder designation for digital addiction. If so, it would mean that treatment for internet addiction could be covered by your health insurance. This is the world we are now entering. I cite all these dismal statistics just to make the point that the power of the visual has assumed enormous proportions and poses a very real threat to normal, human health and development, especially among young people. We have created a powerful machine and now must learn how to control it.

How big is this business in the U.S.? Studies say 97% of American teens aged 12-17 play video games using a variety of devices and half of them do so every day. We know that boys are especially cued to the visual and, not surprisingly, 99% of them are players versus 94% of girls. 65% of males are daily gamers versus only 35% of females. 27% of teens play games with strangers on line. About one third of parents do not or only occasionally check the ratings before they allow their children to play a game. In 2008, World of Warcraft was the most played game in the U.S. at about 11 hours per week per gamer.

Houston, do we have a problem? Sorry if this is depressing. I wanted to get your attention.

(to be continued)

the visual part I

“the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes,” Genesis 3:6 KJV

Please forgive me for getting a little controversial here. I am thinking out loud and know that’s dangerous. This all started with a quote I just read from a Ravi Zacharias speech given at Amsterdam in 2000 in which he identified five major changes that have had significant impact on cultures around the world. Number three on that list was, “The controlling impact of the visual.” Since that speech, nine years of technology has perhaps doubled or tripled that impact. I am not a cell phone video junkie, nor do I play video games, nor do I own a high def. TV. Yet, I feel it stalking me.

I confess. I cannot carry on a decent conversation with even an old fashioned TV program going in a room at the same time. TVs mounted in restaurants regularly get me in trouble when having a quiet dinner with my wife. I am absolutely agog at the sight of college football in H.D. I get stuck in front of the new video monitors or TVs at department stores. And the Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, and The Passion movies were all visual overloads for me, totally transfixing in their power and intensity.

Let’s admit it. The state of perfection of the visual media today along with computerized animation is awesome. What I am wondering is if we need to slow down a bit and examine what role we as Christians allow this powerful media to have in our lives. I am not even going to begin to talk about the dark side of the internet. That is another story all in itself, and the carnage is incredible. Let’s just think about the “morally passive” stuff we have made so much a part of our lives. Here is where it gets controversial.

I guess I am thinking back to the days when I was in the thick of raising young children of my own. We had a love-hate relationship going on with television even then, as black and white as it may have been. Captain Kangaroo was a daily delight and captivating even for adults as I learned trying to walk through the room without stopping. Finding “Les Miserables,” the movie, on TV one night was a thrill, an absolute gem. But then there was the routine of it all that began to sap more and more family time, deadening us to violence, and assaulting us with subtle compromise. We tried owning just a small cheap one that didn’t work very well. No help. Finally, we just went cold turkey for 10 or more years while the kids were growing up. Family and friends didn’t understand and kept trying to give us TVs. No need to buy one in America, I learned. The whole world will feel so sorry for you that they will pile them up on your doorstep.
But we discovered reading novels around the dinner table, and our home became a haven for board games, conversation, company, crafts, a club house, and Sunday dinners for extended family. We have never looked back on that time with regret. Our girls did get to see every episode of “Little House” at Grandma’s. I got to see football with friends. But I think what happened was that we witnessed our “humanness” being amplified, that part of us that shows forth the creative image of God as it was meant to be.

The comic strip Doonesbury this week (not my favorite), showed a young 20-something character being contacted by a former employer. “Stop right there,” he protested. “No way I’m getting sucked back in! I’ve got a life now!” The other party responded, “No, you don’t. The most important thing in your life is an X-box.” A pungent moment of silence was followed by, “Okay, so you’re creeping me out.” How much of life is being “twittered” away with games and texting, the endless trivia of ‘Facebook,’ or 200 channels of digital HD? I saw what my generation did when they discovered the toy of amplification: sound taken to deafening levels. What will this generation do with their new toys of the visual, and where will it take them?

(to be continued)

professional hazards II

“The mouth of a righteous man is a well of life:” Proverbs 10:11 KJV

Last week I talked about the perils of communication. Pro. 10 tells us, “In the multitude of words there wanteth not transgression,but he that refraineth his lips is wise.” This we know quite well from experience. We all remember, with embarrassment and pain, times when we have hurt or been hurt through well meaning exchanges with even good friends. The lesson that echoes through our hearts is to “keep our peace,” to just not say what comes to mind even when we know that someone ought to say something. True enough, Scripture abounds in advice in matters of the tongue and reminds us that “the heart of the righteous studies how to answer.” But that is far, so very far, from calling us to a vow of silence in a world full of troubles.

In the very same chapter where we are told that in the multitude of words there is peril, we are also told that wisdom is found in the lips of him that has understanding, that the tongue of the just is as choice silver, that the lips of the righteous feed many, that the mouth of the just brings forth wisdom, that the lips of the righteous know what is acceptable, and that the mouth of the righteous is a well of life. Much of Scripture contains paradoxical truth. A paradox is troubling in that it calls us to think and weigh out opposing elements with a judicial eye. It is also comforting in that truth is seldom simple, a reassurance to us that the Word of God is a real-world testament and contains deep wisdom.

How interesting that in a single chapter there are six verses that praise a right word fitly spoken and only one that calls for caution yet we remember the one most clearly. ‘Tis a mark of our humanity that we are forever conscious of our own frailty and remain to our core a bundle of fears. We fear others, and failure, yet we are called to be instruments of God’s truth in a world of confusion and falsity. But we would be like Jonah, preferring flight to a storm tossed sea rather than be a truth bearer and confront a world gone wrong. How much safer it is to avoid the battle altogether than speak a word for righteousness sake into the lives of a neighbor, a co-worker, or even our own children.

While there is much to learn about being the wise one who speaks with grace, making knowledge acceptable, being a truth speaker is the ultimate in risky behavior. Jesus did it as well as anyone ever could, but we all know where it got him. What makes the difference between the eventual success of a Jonah-message and the martyrdom of Stephen, both of whom spoke the truth in love? No one knows for sure, but I read a lot about the prophets being stoned in Scripture. Yet we know that God’s truth brings life. The word of correction is the sure evidence of a father’s love. And whoever would name the name of Christ is now the bearer of good news into all the world, let the chips fall where they may. We must also stand, at times, in the footsteps of Martin Luther, defying the known world, and declare with him, “Here I stand. I can do no other. God help me. Amen.”

For all of our truth witnessing into the lives of our own children, for all those dangerous ventures we made into the confines of their young souls, molding, prodding, praising, and rebuking, we were still very conscious of the possibility of error and injury to these tender shoots. At some point near young adulthood, we approached them in fear and trembling and asked them if there were any instances where we had left a seed of bitterness in their hearts at all the correction we had poured into their lives. We awaited fearfully as each of them scanned the horizon of their years, just sure there would be a list of grievances, small or large. To our relief, there were none. We slept better that night. But we also slept well knowing we had been faithful to uphold God’s standard of Truth as best we knew how. It is a delicate balance, but one every faithful watchman knows full well.

professional hazards

“In the multitude of words there wanteth not transgression;” Proverbs 10:19 ASV

Lawyers live in fear of that lapsed word, that oversight of precise language that could cost someone his fortune, his home, or his reputation. No matter how much good they may have done on behalf of a multitude of clients, tomorrow could reveal a calamitous error. Doctors, too, go home each day and pray they have made the right call as they prescribe small portions of healing drugs from closets full to overflowing with deadly toxins of every kind. Preachers step down from pulpits and immediately are plagued with doubts about the “rightness” of their pronouncements that hang somewhere between heaven and earth. And each must mount that cockpit again and again daring to speak for God to the world all the while secretly wondering how preposterous a task that must be for any of Adam’s race.

Preachers, teachers, and writers, all who live by the words of their mouths, whose stock and trade is an endless stream of pungent vocabulary formulated into wishful sense and meaning, are condemned to co-exist with the constant dread of error and offense. Facts come out incomplete, judgments are ill-conceived, and words trip up even the most astute and knowledgeable. We who speak daily, write weekly, or lead constantly are conscious of the two-edged sword that hangs over their heads. At any moment our words can fall upon us and cut in deadly fashion. If any are not duly humbled by that daily possibility, there is truly something very deeply wrong and dangerous about them, and they should be barred from all of the above.

Just last week I stumbled badly in my use of language that gave offense where none was intended. A friend also was reeling as his efforts at leadership were constantly being sidetracked by a whole series of misunderstandings, words run off the rails by unseen and undetected sensitivities. I watched two other highly trained and capable individuals labor and strain to understand one another. This all was happening around me in the span of one short week. It is enough to make one despair at the prospect of ever constructing accurate and effective communication. Oh, to be an artist painting in a solitary studio whose only dialogue is with pigment and palette. Oh, to have the simple life of an assembly line worker who can look with satisfaction at a thousand widgets well made at the end of a day.

But where would we be without lawyers fearlessly exercising their craft to create a world of law and order? How well would we live without doctors who dare to cut through flesh and bone or deal in life saving medicines? And where would we be without preachers and teachers who go where angels fear to tread, laying down the unseen measuring lines whereupon we build our lives?

Lest you pity too much these professions and the daily perils they face, remember that we as parents have equal hazards to our trade. We, too, pour out a torrent of words upon our children every day, their meaning loaded with the freight of tone and grimace. We correct, admonish, train, reinforce, encourage, and address them powerfully in our many different roles. So, too, the potential for catastrophe is there with words said in ignorance or haste resulting in wounded spirits, or at a minimum, have the potential to stir up strident responses. No wonder some parents would rather retreat to a world of passive permissiveness than dare to conduct those daily interdictions that call for incisive language in an effort to bend young lives to receive and shoulder the yoke of responsibility.

To speak words of truth is to claim a moral high ground, one fraught with risk. May we be courageous enough to try when the time comes to defend our corner of the wall; and humble enough to admit the possibility of error so endemic to us all.

(to be continued)