This post is one that has been brewing within me for sixteen years.
If that doesn't intrigue some and frighten others, I don't know what else will.
I am not writing this to pose an either-or situation and force people into a false choice. I am not here to utilize inflammatory rhetoric. I am not here as an expert in such matters. I am simply one voice among many with a burden on my heart. Maybe I'm a lone voice on the frozen tundra of the universe; maybe I'm the C.M. Punk of this discussion and I happen to be the voice of the voiceless. The second possibility is unlikely, but here we go nonetheless.
I have spent fourteen years in Christian education, ever since the day Mickey Bowdon said "Son, you're my man for this position." I realize that Christian education a very nebulous term. It might conjure up all sorts of images, from white-flight evangelical-ish academies in the Deep South to parochial Catholic schools to Lutheran schools (from which my younger brothers were privileged to have graduated) even to religiously-based boarding schools like Welton Academy in Dead Poets Society or St. Matthew's in School Ties. To define our terms--and because it's my blog and I control this "open letter"--I'm sheep-penning the definition as follows: Christian education is accomplished in a school environment where students are spurred to academic excellence under the sovereignty of God and are encouraged to connect, love, and apply the intersection of subject matter to the journey of faith.
An additional caveat: I don't like the practice of exclusion (as readers will discover further on) but due to the pedagogical waters in which I have been swimming--some would say dog paddling--over my career, I am limiting my "open letter" to a particular vein of Christian education. My remarks are largely addressed to secondary (grades 7-12) or unified (K-12) schools within the evangelical and broadly Reformed (Calvinist) tradition, so if my Catholic and Lutheran educator friends feel left out, I apologize.
So are we all clear on the addressees? Good. Read on if you desire.
In a world of curriculum, of advancing and improving our existing programs, of constructing new initiatives (not always advisable), and of carpet-bombing ineffective programs, one might think this open letter is about what we teach and how we teach. Well, that might come up later, but it's not my primary focus. I am not here to discuss scope and sequence, the nature of tests, quizzes, and projects (Oh for the love of St. Jude, the patron saint of hopeless causes...let's STOP calling them "assessments"). This is not about the "what" we teach, the "how" we teach, or the "where" we teach. It will touch on why we teach, but my issue is the community of learners.
We need to think about who we teach.
Specifically, the admissions policy question...which I think is the eight-hundred pound moose on anabolic steroids sitting in the middle of the room.
There are two primary schools of thought on admissions policy in the Christian school world. One is the covenantal model. In a nutshell, this philosophy means that admission is granted to a student whose parents/guardians (or perhaps at least one of them) make a credible profession of faith in Jesus Christ and regularly attend church. The students may primarily come from the specific faith tradition upheld by the school (e.g., majority of Baptists in a Baptist school) or the student body might be more diverse, but the main thing is that the parent/parents must be Christians, and this discovery is part of the admission process. The school where I presently serve holds to a covenantal model of admissions, and it works for them (meaning there is no shortage of parents making professions of faith that affects enrollment).
The second stream of thought is the open enrollment model. Here, the school in question may be located in evangelical soil or it may not be. Regardless, the policy here is that (a) students do not necessarily have to make a profession of Christian faith and (b) the parents/guardians do not have to make a credible profession of Christian faith, yet (c) clearly outlined in the admissions process is the reality that this institution is a Christian school, with a particular model and expectation for the instruction of the student. This is the "you need to understand what you're signing up for" moment, in which parents recognize and affirm worldview and behavioral parameters therein. The student body in this model tends to be a highly diverse melting pot of all faiths or none. Different strata will include (1) young, serious and growing believers, (2) immature members of the barely faithful, (3) skeptics yet genuine seekers of meaningful belief, (4) cynics and scoffers, and (5) outright agnostics and atheists. There may be others but those layers will suffice for now. And also, this does not mean Christian schools are obligated to take everyone who applies. As private schools, they have the right and the duty to be choosy and selective, basing their process on a variety of factors, not the least of which is academic potential and chance for future success and enrichment.
Now to answer your next question: The first three Christian schools where I worked? All open enrollment.
So what's my point?
First, I am not here to tell covenantal admission policy schools to change their minds or their approach to whom they select. This is especially the case for Christian elementary schools that are part of a local church's ministry. A covenantal policy could well be the most effective at this level. I would also say that a number of other schools find the covenantal model workable and best. Whether they are more comprehensive schools or ones based on the classical and blended (traditional-homeschool) model, this can be the most effective policy.
Secondly, both policies can yield highly diverse, academically precocious student bodies. All of my academic employers oversaw school populations that were ethnically wide-ranging. At least two of them had a wide swing in socio-economic levels represented. All of them have been centers where scholarship is valued, where struggling students are assisted in their quest to learn, and where achievement is celebrated. Two of these schools I consider to be outstanding models of faculty professionalism and diversity.
But my third point--and the one I've been driving at--is this: I would strongly make the case that an open enrollment policy does in fact result in a Christian educational environment which reflects the community God desires, that properly responds to the Great Commission of Christ, and that can create more effective teaching and witness.
The community God desires: It is my firm belief that God wants us to be engagers of the world around us and not engagers-in-waiting. Yes, Christian schools can exist for children of Christian parents and train the kids well, and upon graduation the students are prepared to take their scholarship, wisdom, and devotion to a waiting world. But what if that world didn't have to wait? What if among us there would be atheists, skeptics, and other not-yet-believers who were part of our community? How cool would that be? What if Christian schools became intuitively seeker-understanding (note: this is different from seeker-driven)? What if we sent the message to all who desired an excellent education with moral foundations that our credo was Even if you don't believe what we do yet, if ever, may you still come among us and be part of our community. Belonging can precede believing, and in this place, it will.
I get goosebumps at the idea of such a school family.
Responding to the Great Commission of Christ: In Matthew 28, Jesus says, "Go and make disciples of all nations." What if part of our 'going' was in fact welcoming people of all faiths or none as students and school community members? Atheists? Welcomed. Buddhists? Welcomed. Hindus? Welcomed. Jews? Welcomed. Postmodern fans of Jacques Derrida (look him up)? Welcomed. Christian students would in a sense have on-the-job training in how to respond to objections to faith because conversations would take place at lunch, in the locker room before soccer practice, in the hallways after chapel, and wherever else such talks might crop up.
I smile broadly at the idea of such a school family.
More effective teaching and witness: At Christian schools in Louisiana, Virginia, and Florida, there was one common thread in my teaching assignments. I taught eleventh-grade Bible, which had to do with apologetics, or the study of understanding the Christian faith and being able to make a credible case for it while responding to questions and objections of others with grace and respect (see I Peter 3:15). In all three schools, I had non-Christian students in my classrooms. In fact, in Virginia and Florida, I would say the majority of my students were not only non-Christian, they were unchurched. Now THAT makes for an interesting dynamic! Instead of teaching the Christian faith to those "on the inside", I had to think about teaching about faith to unbelievers. Instead of a lecture, it was more of a conversation where--to be honest and credible with my students--I welcomed questions and honest interrogation. What I found was this made me a better teacher. It made me a better communicator of spiritual truths because I had to package things in an understandable manner for people with no clue of religious jargon or "Christianese" language. I had to put the Gospel cookies on the bottom shelf. It opened up avenues with students for friendships and spiritual conversations that continue to this day. Many of my prized students were and continue to be atheists and skeptics. But we respect and value one another, and I continue to trust that God is at work behind the scenes in ways I can't imagine. But the point is this: Open enrollment made me a more understanding, conversationally-conscious, compassionate and spiritually sensitive teacher and communicator than I would have been otherwise. Yes, it was difficult and I didn't do it perfectly. It's a messy process. It's hard. But (to quote Tom Hanks' character in A League of Their Own) "it's supposed to be hard. The 'hard' is what makes it great." The view on the other side is incredible. If we as teachers are running from this opportunity rather than running to it, then my question is "Why?" The opportunities are downright endless and spiritually recharging!
I weep with joy at the idea of such a school family.
Again, I don't want this letter to be read as me being "anti-covenantal admissions". That would be like saying because I'm pro-American, therefore I'm anti-Canadian, or because I'm a Cubs fan I thus hate the Cardinals. Nothing could be further from the truth. I'm not telling administrations to do this; I graciously submit to my present employer's admissions policy, which works well. I'm merely tossing a new ball into the conversation and saying this is a game that could be worth playing.
What I am saying is that Jesus gave us a grand opportunity that extends until his return to this planet for its renewal and cleansing. And opening the doors of Christian schools to members of all faiths or none could just be one of the exciting roller coaster rides he has granted us in fulfilling his vision and for bringing in his dream for this world.
Think about it. Pray about it. And dream about it.
Monday, April 29, 2013
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Reading Reviews: A Tale of Two Governments
"Government" is getting to be a volatile word in many quarters. The recent conundrums in America, with showdowns on issues like gun control, immigration reform, terrorism, and economic policy have drawn fairly severe lines on the field, polarizing the discussion. Should government be more expansive? Should it be more limited? Strong? Weak? The queries go on.
What gets overlooked--especially on the Christian side of things--is the role of church government. Though it doesn't get the press like the machinations in Washington, D.C., the Christian church is an institution with outworkings of various functions. One part of the church's work is church discipline--indeed, the churches of the Protestant Reformation included this alongside the preaching of Scripture and the administration of the sacraments as the marks of the true church. So as not to obfuscate anything, the working definition for many of church discipline tends to be as follows: The leaders of a local church responding in Scriptural-based action to a grievous sin from which an individual (or group) refuses to repent and change attitude or behavior.
Got that? I know. It's not the kind of thing many churches have in their public relations brochures.
It is the issue of church government and church discipline that Robert J. Renaud and Lael D. Weinberger bring to the forefront in their book A Tale of Two Governments: Church Discipline, the Courts, and the Separation of Church and State (Dunrobin Publishing, 2012). The book tackles a number of matters: the history of the relationship between church and state, church autonomy and its limits, and the practical matters to protect the church to its free exercise.
The book has its genesis in a 2007 case of Westbrook v. Penley, in which a Texas pastor was used for violating his professional duties as a counselor. A female parishioner, who was having an affair, had no intention of reconciling her marriage. Pointing out that doing so was a sin against God and Scripture, the pastor Buddy Westbrook carefully went through the steps of discipline outlined in Matthew 18. The parishioner, upset over this turn of events, sued the church.
So the question for Renaud and Weinberger became: Can the state intervene in a matter of church discipline? What is the nature of the separation of church and state? How may churches practice discipline?
I will not attempt to summarize the book to answer those questions; I do want you to read it, after all. A brief overview of the book's strengths with other suggestions should suffice.
The authors, being students of history, do a commendable job of presenting the scope of this matter. After a chapter on the biblical theology of church-state relations, they give the grand sweep of attitudes of church and state from the days of St. Augustine, through the days of Luther and Calvin, on through the work of John Knox and the Scottish Reformation, to church-state relations in America. They shift to legal implications of church and state today, followed by practical understanding on church discipline itself and steps for the church to protect itself legally.
The authors do a fantastic job of leading the reader through history in a way that undoes a lot of myths about the Christian view of church-state relations. Especially strong are the sections laying out the beliefs and actions of Martin Luther and John Knox. The authors make a strong case for the notion of church and state being separate spheres of true authority (p. 14) over the lives of others.
Their proposal that each sphere provides a check on the other, so that neither becomes a power monster, is rather intriguing. Many can see how that is needed as a stiff-arm against the federal government, but the church (especially in the Middle Ages) has its own history of getting too big for its leadership britches.
One only has to take a glance at the bibliography to realize how well-researched A Tale of Two Governments is. The authors really did their homework and research. An additional aid for the reader comes in the form of review questions at the end of each chapter that reinforce the main ideas and encourage deeper reflection.
A Tale of Two Governments is extremely helpful for several strata of readers. Pastors, seminarians, and law students will reap great benefit from its pages. Although it is a scholarly work, it is written with a minimum of legal jargon, so even the garden-variety curious soul will find it an engaging and helpful read.
Renaud and Weinberger deserve much praise for resurrecting the issue of church discipline when this issue is at its nadir in the evangelical community. America--aside from becoming a more secular nation--is marked by a decline in the understanding of spiritual purity and personal holiness. Add to this the reality that people are highly consumeristic in their church selection ("Oh, I don't like the way this church does this...I'll just go across town to First Community Church."), then it's no wonder many people disdain the notion of the church and Scripture having authority over the way life is lived. Whether people take their words to heart or not, Renaud and Weinberger are at least offering a helpful dose of correction. The health of the church is at stake.
Two areas of suggestion for mild improvement: Although the historical overview of church-state understanding is extremely helpful, perhaps an even greater weight given to how it played out in American history would be more helpful. Also, one should not forget that it is easy to think of church discipline as a reactive exercise. It is true that is the case when dealing with abject, deep, unrepentant sin in the church. But understand this is not the entirety of church discipline. I would say ninety-nine percent of church discipline is proactive. My father once pastored a church in Maryland, and an elder at that church once remarked that whenever parishioners hear the preaching of Scripture, they are under discipline, because they are being encouraged to bring their lives under God's teaching, expectations, and grace.
Overall, A Tale of Two Governments is a volume worthy of one's time and effort. We should never stop learning from history. Christians should have a passion for having their lives shaped by God's will. A Tale of Two Governments empowers readers to walk both of those paths with vigor and clarity.
What gets overlooked--especially on the Christian side of things--is the role of church government. Though it doesn't get the press like the machinations in Washington, D.C., the Christian church is an institution with outworkings of various functions. One part of the church's work is church discipline--indeed, the churches of the Protestant Reformation included this alongside the preaching of Scripture and the administration of the sacraments as the marks of the true church. So as not to obfuscate anything, the working definition for many of church discipline tends to be as follows: The leaders of a local church responding in Scriptural-based action to a grievous sin from which an individual (or group) refuses to repent and change attitude or behavior.
Got that? I know. It's not the kind of thing many churches have in their public relations brochures.
It is the issue of church government and church discipline that Robert J. Renaud and Lael D. Weinberger bring to the forefront in their book A Tale of Two Governments: Church Discipline, the Courts, and the Separation of Church and State (Dunrobin Publishing, 2012). The book tackles a number of matters: the history of the relationship between church and state, church autonomy and its limits, and the practical matters to protect the church to its free exercise.
The book has its genesis in a 2007 case of Westbrook v. Penley, in which a Texas pastor was used for violating his professional duties as a counselor. A female parishioner, who was having an affair, had no intention of reconciling her marriage. Pointing out that doing so was a sin against God and Scripture, the pastor Buddy Westbrook carefully went through the steps of discipline outlined in Matthew 18. The parishioner, upset over this turn of events, sued the church.
So the question for Renaud and Weinberger became: Can the state intervene in a matter of church discipline? What is the nature of the separation of church and state? How may churches practice discipline?
I will not attempt to summarize the book to answer those questions; I do want you to read it, after all. A brief overview of the book's strengths with other suggestions should suffice.
The authors, being students of history, do a commendable job of presenting the scope of this matter. After a chapter on the biblical theology of church-state relations, they give the grand sweep of attitudes of church and state from the days of St. Augustine, through the days of Luther and Calvin, on through the work of John Knox and the Scottish Reformation, to church-state relations in America. They shift to legal implications of church and state today, followed by practical understanding on church discipline itself and steps for the church to protect itself legally.
The authors do a fantastic job of leading the reader through history in a way that undoes a lot of myths about the Christian view of church-state relations. Especially strong are the sections laying out the beliefs and actions of Martin Luther and John Knox. The authors make a strong case for the notion of church and state being separate spheres of true authority (p. 14) over the lives of others.
Their proposal that each sphere provides a check on the other, so that neither becomes a power monster, is rather intriguing. Many can see how that is needed as a stiff-arm against the federal government, but the church (especially in the Middle Ages) has its own history of getting too big for its leadership britches.
One only has to take a glance at the bibliography to realize how well-researched A Tale of Two Governments is. The authors really did their homework and research. An additional aid for the reader comes in the form of review questions at the end of each chapter that reinforce the main ideas and encourage deeper reflection.
A Tale of Two Governments is extremely helpful for several strata of readers. Pastors, seminarians, and law students will reap great benefit from its pages. Although it is a scholarly work, it is written with a minimum of legal jargon, so even the garden-variety curious soul will find it an engaging and helpful read.
Renaud and Weinberger deserve much praise for resurrecting the issue of church discipline when this issue is at its nadir in the evangelical community. America--aside from becoming a more secular nation--is marked by a decline in the understanding of spiritual purity and personal holiness. Add to this the reality that people are highly consumeristic in their church selection ("Oh, I don't like the way this church does this...I'll just go across town to First Community Church."), then it's no wonder many people disdain the notion of the church and Scripture having authority over the way life is lived. Whether people take their words to heart or not, Renaud and Weinberger are at least offering a helpful dose of correction. The health of the church is at stake.
Two areas of suggestion for mild improvement: Although the historical overview of church-state understanding is extremely helpful, perhaps an even greater weight given to how it played out in American history would be more helpful. Also, one should not forget that it is easy to think of church discipline as a reactive exercise. It is true that is the case when dealing with abject, deep, unrepentant sin in the church. But understand this is not the entirety of church discipline. I would say ninety-nine percent of church discipline is proactive. My father once pastored a church in Maryland, and an elder at that church once remarked that whenever parishioners hear the preaching of Scripture, they are under discipline, because they are being encouraged to bring their lives under God's teaching, expectations, and grace.
Overall, A Tale of Two Governments is a volume worthy of one's time and effort. We should never stop learning from history. Christians should have a passion for having their lives shaped by God's will. A Tale of Two Governments empowers readers to walk both of those paths with vigor and clarity.
Friday, April 26, 2013
Grace in Transition
Vocationally, I have had a number of twists and turns. Within the last eight years, I have been told on separate occasions--in separate locations--that (a) my rear end was getting fired immediately, (b) my contract for the next school year unfortunately could not be renewed due to financial considerations, and (c) my position in my organization would be downgraded. Thus, I know what it's like to have a less-than-ideal moment thrown in your face. Some situations are completely unjustified; others you understand are out of everyone's control; still others make a decision in the shadows and give you and others the political answers. It happens every day around the planet.
Those of you who are getting antsy, relax. I received a contract at my school and signed it.
The ennui that drips from this page comes from the news I received yesterday: A good friend of mine has been told by his employer they will be letting him go. I do not know the reasons behind this decision, so I won't attempt to speak to the particulars. I will be chatting with my friend this weekend in order to reach out to him, and maybe I'll know more then. It is especially tough because he was a colleague of mine in this institution for four years. I love this institution as he does, too. It is hard to speak of anything I don't like about this workplace. He himself has served this organization for a decade and a half. Faithfully. And yet, he finds himself without gainful employment there next year.
It is difficult for me to write this because of my deep friendship for this man. He is twenty years my senior, which means at his age there may be some issues finding a steady paycheck. He is an absolutely brilliant man. He taught World History and AP European History for many years, has dabbled in college professorships in the past, and gained a Ph. D, from the University of Virginia--hence, he is no intellectual slouch. In addition--and this will be a staggering statement to those who know me--he has forgotten more sports trivia than I have ever known. I mean, specifics like the pitch count when Bobby Thomson hit the "Shot Heard Round the World" or the score of the last time Brown beat Princeton in Jadwin Gymnasium. He got our family and some friends from Atlanta into Ash Lawn-Highland for a gratis tour of James Monroe's home, where he served as a guide. He was forever sipping from a bottle of diet Coke, always engaging in conversation, and could graciously hold court on any topic. A true Renaissance man. A confirmed bachelor, transplanted New Jersey prep school product who spent his entire higher education life below the Mason-Dixon Line and seamlessly transitioned into a true Southern gentleman.
In truth, that's what comes to mind with my friend Roger: his graciousness. It draws you to him like a magnet. I remember stopping by his apartment the night before we moved out of the state to the next phase of our lives, simply because I wanted to tell him how much his friendship meant to me.
He would tell you that his colleagues and students mean the world to him. Whenever I've talked to or emailed him, he updates me on former students and teachers who intersected with us. It's clear that he misses us being around. In fact, in the spring of 2004, after a faculty devotional time, it was announced that I'd be leaving for another position at the end of the school year. In one of the greatest moments that still causes people to laugh, Roger forgot where he was and muttered, "Aw, s---!" loudly enough for the entire back row to hear. More dour folk would excoriate him for dropping a curse word; I counted it as a moving tribute from a dear friend.
It hits me that in this world where people can be pretty outspoken about what they believe, that my friend Roger has been the most private person in terms of talking about his faith. But when it comes to exhibiting godly virtues of patience, kindness, and generosity, he blows almost every other Christian out of the water. Many talk about faith; he lives his faith. I think it significant that--according to other friends in our circle--he has taken this new chapter in stride and bears no ill will. There's something within the heart of my friend that beats forth an abiding trust that God will provide no matter what the trial. That's a lesson that I am very slow to learn, and I am eternally grateful that he has re-taught me this bedrock truth even when it's a difficult time for him.
I believe that God will provide for Roger. And I am thankful for the godliness and grace that Roger has exhibited during this time. My friend, there is truly no one like you.
Those of you who are getting antsy, relax. I received a contract at my school and signed it.
The ennui that drips from this page comes from the news I received yesterday: A good friend of mine has been told by his employer they will be letting him go. I do not know the reasons behind this decision, so I won't attempt to speak to the particulars. I will be chatting with my friend this weekend in order to reach out to him, and maybe I'll know more then. It is especially tough because he was a colleague of mine in this institution for four years. I love this institution as he does, too. It is hard to speak of anything I don't like about this workplace. He himself has served this organization for a decade and a half. Faithfully. And yet, he finds himself without gainful employment there next year.
It is difficult for me to write this because of my deep friendship for this man. He is twenty years my senior, which means at his age there may be some issues finding a steady paycheck. He is an absolutely brilliant man. He taught World History and AP European History for many years, has dabbled in college professorships in the past, and gained a Ph. D, from the University of Virginia--hence, he is no intellectual slouch. In addition--and this will be a staggering statement to those who know me--he has forgotten more sports trivia than I have ever known. I mean, specifics like the pitch count when Bobby Thomson hit the "Shot Heard Round the World" or the score of the last time Brown beat Princeton in Jadwin Gymnasium. He got our family and some friends from Atlanta into Ash Lawn-Highland for a gratis tour of James Monroe's home, where he served as a guide. He was forever sipping from a bottle of diet Coke, always engaging in conversation, and could graciously hold court on any topic. A true Renaissance man. A confirmed bachelor, transplanted New Jersey prep school product who spent his entire higher education life below the Mason-Dixon Line and seamlessly transitioned into a true Southern gentleman.
In truth, that's what comes to mind with my friend Roger: his graciousness. It draws you to him like a magnet. I remember stopping by his apartment the night before we moved out of the state to the next phase of our lives, simply because I wanted to tell him how much his friendship meant to me.
He would tell you that his colleagues and students mean the world to him. Whenever I've talked to or emailed him, he updates me on former students and teachers who intersected with us. It's clear that he misses us being around. In fact, in the spring of 2004, after a faculty devotional time, it was announced that I'd be leaving for another position at the end of the school year. In one of the greatest moments that still causes people to laugh, Roger forgot where he was and muttered, "Aw, s---!" loudly enough for the entire back row to hear. More dour folk would excoriate him for dropping a curse word; I counted it as a moving tribute from a dear friend.
It hits me that in this world where people can be pretty outspoken about what they believe, that my friend Roger has been the most private person in terms of talking about his faith. But when it comes to exhibiting godly virtues of patience, kindness, and generosity, he blows almost every other Christian out of the water. Many talk about faith; he lives his faith. I think it significant that--according to other friends in our circle--he has taken this new chapter in stride and bears no ill will. There's something within the heart of my friend that beats forth an abiding trust that God will provide no matter what the trial. That's a lesson that I am very slow to learn, and I am eternally grateful that he has re-taught me this bedrock truth even when it's a difficult time for him.
I believe that God will provide for Roger. And I am thankful for the godliness and grace that Roger has exhibited during this time. My friend, there is truly no one like you.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Unspeakable Past, Untouched Future
But I am going to allow the pundits and others take the lead on talking about Boston, because I have been thinking about a different side of violence. It's not the devastation wrought by terrorism, but that doesn't make it any less damaging, for the body or for the soul.
If you want to get off the blog now and skip today's post, I'll understand, because I'm talking about child sexual abuse and you may not like the tone. But April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month, and a pointed chat on this topic is long overdue.
I'm not talking about this as a survivor. No one sexually abused me during my childhood. For reasons of God's mercy, I have two great, loving parents who understood their covenant responsibilities. None of my relatives did, either. No one in my neighborhood or among my coaches or teachers attacked me, molested me, or tried anything else. And I'm pretty sure I'm not repressing anything; I have a darn good memory that borders on the photographic.
But sadly, others cannot count that blessing amongst their childhood laurels. The best statistics through adult retrospective studies bear out that 1 in 4 women and 1 in 6 men were sexually abused before the age of 18. Children fall victim to the predators that lurk amongst them. The overwhelming majority of these sex abusers are not faceless individuals; they are people the children know and trust and with whom they have (on the surface) good relationships. They are relatives, neighbors, teachers, coaches, mentors, and church leaders like priests and deacons.
I've read a good bit of material on sexual abuse and the survivors thereof. Dan Allender's The Wounded Heart is one of the best books on the topic. The Finnish cello metal band Apocalyptica brought clergy sexual abuse into the open with their song "I'm Not Jesus" (music video above). I know a number of people who have shared their stories of abuse with me. Some have developed issues of sexual identity confusion; others have sought sexual intimacy through other means that may be less than appropriate; a number of them developed suicidal thoughts; nearly all battled with feelings of worthlessness and hopelessness; in all of the ones I know, there can be a simmering anger that roils below the skin, erupting in the question, "Why me?", followed closely by the other question, "Where was God?"
And buttressing both of those queries is the ongoing angst: "Whom can I ever trust?"
That, along with sexual confusion and dysfunction, is the legacy of childhood sexual abuse: the erosion of trust in human relationships. While I believe it is unhealthy to put up a wall against others for the rest of one's life, I completely understand the sentiment. Why put yourself through the horror again when it's happened before?
This matter came front and center for me a couple of months ago. A number of years ago, I served as a pastor/church revitalizer for a small Presbyterian church in central North Carolina. Per our denominational guidelines, my ministry was overseen by the regional "church planting committee" (CPC). For our entire two years there, the director of said committee made my life a living hell. Long story short, he directed a hostile takeover that left my time there in tatters. He lied on the floor of a presbytery (the regional group of our churches) meeting, claiming the CPC had no funds to underwrite my severance--never mind that our son Joshua desperately needed our medical benefits for his medications. Never mind the CPC actually had half a million dollars to spare, so my severance was assured. But what distressed me was the lying and deception and that it never seemed to budge his pulse or his conscience. I always remember my wife (an exceptional judge of character) being very disturbed by his persona.
Two months ago I swept through various Internet sites and landed on one in the Charlotte area, wondering whatever became of my former (God bless him nonetheless, I thought) nemesis. I was not prepared for what I saw. His face. Mug shot. With 14 counts of inappropriate touching and indecent liberties with fourth-grade students from his teaching days. A litany of horror that rose to 110 counts two weeks later, and then to over two hundred counts (including one forcible sex offense) by mid-March. (By the way, his trial begins any day now.)
I remember sitting in front of my computer thinking, "He saw fit to think he did God a favor by cutting my ministry legs out from underneath me, lying incessantly, when this past rot was under the surface the whole time?"
And then I stopped. I had to pray about my attitude. Because it ultimately is not about my vindication or even the evil that emanates from this monster. It's about the children, the nine-and-ten year olds who are now a few years younger than myself, who have had to live with that horror, with that violation of trust, with the warpedness of life that comes with being a victim of those actions. All this through no fault of their own, though often their perpetrators (and sadly, others) will give them the opposite message.
Thank God for organizations like SNAP (for victims of clergy abuse), Sparks of Hope, Darkness to Light, and countless other groups that minister to the broken and educate the rest of us on how to come alongside the hurting and violated.
There is something wrong with this world when we turn our backs on those enduring or who have survived childhood sexual abuse. And yes, I don't discount that some people can fabricate stories to score a financial windfall in court, but are we to believe that's the state of play here? I read garbage from the comments section on this case in North Carolina, and people say "Oh come one, you know there won't be any DNA evidence of the abuse so you can't prove it."
People like that need a fistful of cement to the jaw and a good course on logical thinking. Of course there's no DNA evidence now! That's because molesters operate on a different level. You won't find DNA, a carbon footprint, or twenty-year evidentiary support anywhere on a kid-turned-adult; the imprint has been left on the soul.
If the man of whom I speak is guilty, I pray for full justice. Not because of what he did to our family (we've made our peace with it and moved on from ecclesiastical shenanigans of the good-old-boy network), but for what he would have done to dozens of children in years past. And I pray for all victims of sexual abuse. Wholeness and deliverance is difficult enough for all of us, but their trek is even more dicey. It will never come in its fullness in this lifetime. All we can hope for is bringing as much of God's shalom into the lives of the hurting as humanly possible.
The past for those--including any of you reading this post now--who are such victims is unspeakable and it breaks my heart. All I can hope is that you believe in the core of your spirit that your future is untouched. May you find the true healing that you desire and need. And may a multitude of willing, true friends come alongside you and shepherd you through days of darkness into warmth and light.
Monday, April 22, 2013
Standardized Tests: What They Can't Show Us
I admire and trust a number of people, but Craig Dunham has to be one of the people hovering near the top of that list. Craig is the headmaster at Veritas Classical Academy--a blended model Christian school in Oklahoma City--and he served with me here in St. Louis until the end of the 2010-11 school year. We were colleagues in the Ethics department at Westminster and I always admired Craig's thoughtfulness and opinion about what works and what doesn't in education. Not only is Craig a quality thinker, he is also a published author on the subject of young self-identity and teaching. But one of the things I've always enjoyed about Craig is his humility. He warns on his classical education blog that it's important we not think of ourselves as the pinnacle of history, that we have figured a few things out in the scheme of education, but we continue to paddle the surface of an inexhaustible ocean. There's a lot that we do in schooling; there's also a lot we don't know.
A lot has been said about curricular materials and standards of education recently, and I discussed my preliminary take on the Common Core initiative in my post from April 3rd. One undercurrent in this sea that's been on my mind recently is the issue of standardized testing. Now, let me say first of all that there is a definite place for these tests, and they are not going away. At Westminster, we give what my daughter called "bubble tests" at almost every level. While I can't recall if seventh grade does much in that area, we do give the EXPLORE test in eighth grade; freshmen take the ERB test in the fall, as do sophomores with the PLAN test. Juniors (along with select sophomores) are hit with the PSAT/NMSQT in mid-October. And then juniors and seniors are peppered with (depending where you live) the SAT or ACT for college.
My friend Craig has just pulled himself out from under a week of standardized tests (hereafter known as ST), mainly the Iowa Test of Basic Skills and the PLAN test. As he finishes his second year as headmaster at Veritas, he has some interesting ruminations (well worth a couple of deep readings) on this whole world of ST. Yes, it is necessary to probe the work of students in this manner, and it does help schools see if there are gaps or holes in their curriculum that need shoring up (this is why our school in Florida used the Stanford Achievement Test...the other SAT). In short, there are benefits to testing. And it never hurts your school's public relations if you can say your students scored in a high percentile of all students taking a particular test. We should be proud when our students demonstrate a high level of achievement.
However, the current push toward ST and a number of initiatives that incorporate such matters can muddy rather than purify the waters. Craig rightly points out that there can come a mentality of "teaching toward the test", but even more disconcerting than this is the worldview that comes with an ST-emphasized universe. And that zeitgeist is as follows: All success must be measurable, and if we can verify what a student can upchuck back on a bubble sheet, then we particularize his success level and can move on.
As Stewie Griffin would say on many a Family Guy episode: "What the deuce?"
In fact, there is a LOT that STs never test because such areas can't be measured by a test. Craig notes several aspects of a student's experience which are essential to lifelong learning: (1) leadership potential and growth, (2) enjoyment of spontaneous creation, (3) value of actively engaging in community, (4) risk-taking and innovation, (5) empathy and compassion, (6) ability to ask deep questions, (7) reception of constructive criticism, (8) integrity and humility, (9) desire for truth, goodness, and beauty, (10) collaboration with others, and (11) overall love of learning.
In other words, a stay-on-the-intellectual-surface, soulless, cynical, pompous cheat and liar who is disdainful of others and who just wants their education to be a door to a wealthy lifestyle can score highly on the SAT or ACT and get a full ride to the university of their choice. On the other hand, a passionate and insatiable learner who assists well in group projects, loves outdoor walks in the early days of spring or the color changes of autumn, prays with a friend who lost their father in a tragic accident, asks her history teacher a follow-up question on the origins of World War I, and participates as a school peer counselor for younger students could score a 23 on the ACT.
Guess which one I think is the better student? Guess who I would choose to have in class? Guess who I would hire if I ran a business?
You said student #2, right? Good for you.
Of course, we want improvement. Naturally, it's a good thing to check this sliver of a student's overall development. But it's just a critical, as Craig says, to help students (and their parents) "understand that the ultimate goal of assessment is not to pass the test and then fail life."
I don't counterpoint this assessment issue because I wasn't that great of a ST taker (even though I recognized early on what my glass ceiling was on the SAT). I think what Craig points out has significant merit and wisdom because I've spent fourteen years in the classroom--less than some, more than others--and I know that there is much more that STs leave untouched than they measure.
As a veteran of teaching religious studies, I see a parallel between education and one's spiritual faith. We like to think both areas are measurable, but in fact different people develop at varied paces. My father couldn't figure out what a verb was for a long time (probably well into fourth or fifth grade) until one day the light came on. Other students who are deemed "slow" are merely deliberate and enjoy chewing on the wisdom that comes their way, wanting to turn it over in their minds (Not everyone needs to be at the same pace). In the same way, one's faith journey is not always a rhythmic, measurable pace where one can verify if they are a "strong Christian" (I don't believe there is such an animal as a strong Christian) or not. Measuring faith and learning--while part and parcel of the educational experience--can have serious soul backdraft if not kept in proper perspective.
Ah, well. Something to consider anyway. Maybe the whole point here is patience. Students who have a passion to know and grow in wisdom, who are determined to be lifelong learners, and who exhibit a love of truth, integrity, and leadership...eventually they will blossom with or without an ST. For me, the thrill of the ride--not the destination--has always been the thing.
A lot has been said about curricular materials and standards of education recently, and I discussed my preliminary take on the Common Core initiative in my post from April 3rd. One undercurrent in this sea that's been on my mind recently is the issue of standardized testing. Now, let me say first of all that there is a definite place for these tests, and they are not going away. At Westminster, we give what my daughter called "bubble tests" at almost every level. While I can't recall if seventh grade does much in that area, we do give the EXPLORE test in eighth grade; freshmen take the ERB test in the fall, as do sophomores with the PLAN test. Juniors (along with select sophomores) are hit with the PSAT/NMSQT in mid-October. And then juniors and seniors are peppered with (depending where you live) the SAT or ACT for college.
My friend Craig has just pulled himself out from under a week of standardized tests (hereafter known as ST), mainly the Iowa Test of Basic Skills and the PLAN test. As he finishes his second year as headmaster at Veritas, he has some interesting ruminations (well worth a couple of deep readings) on this whole world of ST. Yes, it is necessary to probe the work of students in this manner, and it does help schools see if there are gaps or holes in their curriculum that need shoring up (this is why our school in Florida used the Stanford Achievement Test...the other SAT). In short, there are benefits to testing. And it never hurts your school's public relations if you can say your students scored in a high percentile of all students taking a particular test. We should be proud when our students demonstrate a high level of achievement.
However, the current push toward ST and a number of initiatives that incorporate such matters can muddy rather than purify the waters. Craig rightly points out that there can come a mentality of "teaching toward the test", but even more disconcerting than this is the worldview that comes with an ST-emphasized universe. And that zeitgeist is as follows: All success must be measurable, and if we can verify what a student can upchuck back on a bubble sheet, then we particularize his success level and can move on.
As Stewie Griffin would say on many a Family Guy episode: "What the deuce?"
In fact, there is a LOT that STs never test because such areas can't be measured by a test. Craig notes several aspects of a student's experience which are essential to lifelong learning: (1) leadership potential and growth, (2) enjoyment of spontaneous creation, (3) value of actively engaging in community, (4) risk-taking and innovation, (5) empathy and compassion, (6) ability to ask deep questions, (7) reception of constructive criticism, (8) integrity and humility, (9) desire for truth, goodness, and beauty, (10) collaboration with others, and (11) overall love of learning.
In other words, a stay-on-the-intellectual-surface, soulless, cynical, pompous cheat and liar who is disdainful of others and who just wants their education to be a door to a wealthy lifestyle can score highly on the SAT or ACT and get a full ride to the university of their choice. On the other hand, a passionate and insatiable learner who assists well in group projects, loves outdoor walks in the early days of spring or the color changes of autumn, prays with a friend who lost their father in a tragic accident, asks her history teacher a follow-up question on the origins of World War I, and participates as a school peer counselor for younger students could score a 23 on the ACT.
Guess which one I think is the better student? Guess who I would choose to have in class? Guess who I would hire if I ran a business?
You said student #2, right? Good for you.
Of course, we want improvement. Naturally, it's a good thing to check this sliver of a student's overall development. But it's just a critical, as Craig says, to help students (and their parents) "understand that the ultimate goal of assessment is not to pass the test and then fail life."
I don't counterpoint this assessment issue because I wasn't that great of a ST taker (even though I recognized early on what my glass ceiling was on the SAT). I think what Craig points out has significant merit and wisdom because I've spent fourteen years in the classroom--less than some, more than others--and I know that there is much more that STs leave untouched than they measure.
As a veteran of teaching religious studies, I see a parallel between education and one's spiritual faith. We like to think both areas are measurable, but in fact different people develop at varied paces. My father couldn't figure out what a verb was for a long time (probably well into fourth or fifth grade) until one day the light came on. Other students who are deemed "slow" are merely deliberate and enjoy chewing on the wisdom that comes their way, wanting to turn it over in their minds (Not everyone needs to be at the same pace). In the same way, one's faith journey is not always a rhythmic, measurable pace where one can verify if they are a "strong Christian" (I don't believe there is such an animal as a strong Christian) or not. Measuring faith and learning--while part and parcel of the educational experience--can have serious soul backdraft if not kept in proper perspective.
Ah, well. Something to consider anyway. Maybe the whole point here is patience. Students who have a passion to know and grow in wisdom, who are determined to be lifelong learners, and who exhibit a love of truth, integrity, and leadership...eventually they will blossom with or without an ST. For me, the thrill of the ride--not the destination--has always been the thing.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Boston, Bombs, and the Depth of Our Need
Bob Russell, former pastor of Southeast Christian Church in Louisville, KY, has blogged about the recent tragic and nailbiting days in Boston. Whether you agree with his conclusions or not, he's worth a read.
Russell begins by saying:
Why would two brothers who have lived in the United States for the past decade become terrorists? What motivates young men that were described as, “modest and athletic, the kind of kids that made neighbors feel comfortable,” to viciously kill and maim innocent people? What possibly goes on in their minds? We’re all asking those questions in hopes of finding a way to prevent terrorist activity in the future.
I firmly believe the answers can be found in the Bible. Solomon said there is nothing new under the sun. And C.S. Lewis once wrote that we really don’t need to be taught new ideas as much as we need to be reminded of old truths. Here are seven basic Biblical principles that help explain the escalation of evil and the most practical path to restraining terrorism.
You can read the rest of the post here.
Russell begins by saying:
Why would two brothers who have lived in the United States for the past decade become terrorists? What motivates young men that were described as, “modest and athletic, the kind of kids that made neighbors feel comfortable,” to viciously kill and maim innocent people? What possibly goes on in their minds? We’re all asking those questions in hopes of finding a way to prevent terrorist activity in the future.
I firmly believe the answers can be found in the Bible. Solomon said there is nothing new under the sun. And C.S. Lewis once wrote that we really don’t need to be taught new ideas as much as we need to be reminded of old truths. Here are seven basic Biblical principles that help explain the escalation of evil and the most practical path to restraining terrorism.
You can read the rest of the post here.
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Reading Reflections: M.C. Beaton
Name an author in the field of detective fiction and the name of their protagonist is never far behind. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's work registers the face and idiosyncrasies of Sherlock Holmes. Agatha Christie gave us Hercule Poirot. P.D. James' body of work brings us into the world of Adam Dalgliesh of New Scotland Yard.
Although not as well known as the aforementioned authors, M.C. Beaton [actual name Marion Chesney] puts out a couple of mystery novels per year in the Agatha Raisin and the Hamish Macbeth series. Although the number of volumes in each grouping runs neck and neck, the Hamish Macbeth books are likely more well-known; this may be in part to the BBC's Hamish Macbeth series of episodes starring Robert Carlyle in the titular role (a sharp contrast to his work in The Full Monty). And while I did manage to read the Agatha Raisin mystery As the Pig Turns, I've read eight to ten of the Macbeth novels. Beaton's Macbeth is a tall Scottish bobby (i.e., police constable) with flaming red hair, living in the fictional and idyllic Highland village of Lochdubh (pronounced loch-DOO). Macbeth loves his stomping grounds so much that he has no ambition for promotion, eschewing any chance to be elevated because it would force him to work the beat in neighboring Strathbane. Macbeth is known for his unorthodox ways, his intuitive knack for squeezing what is needed from a question or two, and his tragicomic bad luck with women--particularly his lost love, Priscilla Halliburton-Smythe.
The Macbeth stories follow the enjoyable pattern of the British cozy mystery: The victim is introduced early on in the narrative (in fact, sometimes right in the title...e.g., Death of a Dentist, Death of a Witch, etc.), with Hamish himself intersecting with said victim within striking distance of the opening pages. Hamish has enough antagonists to contend with, including Inspector Blair from nearby Strathbane, an irascible alcoholic and incompetent detective. But for the most part, the surrounding neighbors are a durable, hearty lot, with recurring stock characters reappearing throughout the series. Chesney centers the overwhelming majority of the action in the Highlands, but on occasion Hamish will have to head to Glasgow, Inverness, or Edinburgh; once, he has to go with a fellow detective to the Netherlands (Death of an Addict).
Beaton draws Macbeth in a compassionate light. Readers will root unreservedly for the constable and tend to overlook his mistakes of omission and commission. Beaton also does a phenomenal piece of work in her portrait of Lochdubh, and her descriptions of Highland weather enable the reader to feel the biting cold, surprising rainstorms, or welcome sunshine.
There is a tinge of realism throughout the Hamish Macbeth series. Not every case turns out well. Occasionally, Hamish leads the charge to arrest the perpetrator, who ends up dying rather than facing justice. Some moments may lend themselves to disappointment, but they reflect the ebb and flow of the way life is.
If one would ask me if I have any caveats, two come to mind. First, stick mainly to Beaton's earlier Macbeth novels. I haven't read her two most recent releases (Death of a Kingfisher and Death of Yesterday) but I came away somewhat rankled by the two before those (Death of a Valentine and Death of a Chimney Sweep). In Chimney Sweep, the plot line shifted and took some bizarre turns and characters leapt into prominence without much build at all (I say this with humility, as a new writer who fully realizes that I will have to endure any criticism when Litany of Secrets comes out in the fall). Death of a Valentine contained some contradictory moments; the scene of the same wedding is described at the beginning and end of the book, but two different men walk the bride down the aisle in each scene. This speaks more to the editing job, perhaps, but it was rather glaring.
One other caveat comes from the tone of the novels. They are given more to the brooding and insouciance of postmodernism than the foundationalism of the classics. Doyle, Sayers, Christie, and James drove the reality of justice delivered through what is right and true, even if through some very flawed detectives. Yet there seemed to be no hesitancy among them to call good good and evil evil. Readers expecting a world view that makes room for that righteous indignation will do well to realize Beaton does not go there; the primary emphasis is on Macbeth's ability to piece together a puzzle. Given these parameters--and if one enjoys a good cozy mystery--one should be able to pass many an evening by the fire with a Hamish Macbeth story at hand. A dram of whiskey is optional, but it helps!
Although not as well known as the aforementioned authors, M.C. Beaton [actual name Marion Chesney] puts out a couple of mystery novels per year in the Agatha Raisin and the Hamish Macbeth series. Although the number of volumes in each grouping runs neck and neck, the Hamish Macbeth books are likely more well-known; this may be in part to the BBC's Hamish Macbeth series of episodes starring Robert Carlyle in the titular role (a sharp contrast to his work in The Full Monty). And while I did manage to read the Agatha Raisin mystery As the Pig Turns, I've read eight to ten of the Macbeth novels. Beaton's Macbeth is a tall Scottish bobby (i.e., police constable) with flaming red hair, living in the fictional and idyllic Highland village of Lochdubh (pronounced loch-DOO). Macbeth loves his stomping grounds so much that he has no ambition for promotion, eschewing any chance to be elevated because it would force him to work the beat in neighboring Strathbane. Macbeth is known for his unorthodox ways, his intuitive knack for squeezing what is needed from a question or two, and his tragicomic bad luck with women--particularly his lost love, Priscilla Halliburton-Smythe.
The Macbeth stories follow the enjoyable pattern of the British cozy mystery: The victim is introduced early on in the narrative (in fact, sometimes right in the title...e.g., Death of a Dentist, Death of a Witch, etc.), with Hamish himself intersecting with said victim within striking distance of the opening pages. Hamish has enough antagonists to contend with, including Inspector Blair from nearby Strathbane, an irascible alcoholic and incompetent detective. But for the most part, the surrounding neighbors are a durable, hearty lot, with recurring stock characters reappearing throughout the series. Chesney centers the overwhelming majority of the action in the Highlands, but on occasion Hamish will have to head to Glasgow, Inverness, or Edinburgh; once, he has to go with a fellow detective to the Netherlands (Death of an Addict).
Beaton draws Macbeth in a compassionate light. Readers will root unreservedly for the constable and tend to overlook his mistakes of omission and commission. Beaton also does a phenomenal piece of work in her portrait of Lochdubh, and her descriptions of Highland weather enable the reader to feel the biting cold, surprising rainstorms, or welcome sunshine.
There is a tinge of realism throughout the Hamish Macbeth series. Not every case turns out well. Occasionally, Hamish leads the charge to arrest the perpetrator, who ends up dying rather than facing justice. Some moments may lend themselves to disappointment, but they reflect the ebb and flow of the way life is.
If one would ask me if I have any caveats, two come to mind. First, stick mainly to Beaton's earlier Macbeth novels. I haven't read her two most recent releases (Death of a Kingfisher and Death of Yesterday) but I came away somewhat rankled by the two before those (Death of a Valentine and Death of a Chimney Sweep). In Chimney Sweep, the plot line shifted and took some bizarre turns and characters leapt into prominence without much build at all (I say this with humility, as a new writer who fully realizes that I will have to endure any criticism when Litany of Secrets comes out in the fall). Death of a Valentine contained some contradictory moments; the scene of the same wedding is described at the beginning and end of the book, but two different men walk the bride down the aisle in each scene. This speaks more to the editing job, perhaps, but it was rather glaring.
One other caveat comes from the tone of the novels. They are given more to the brooding and insouciance of postmodernism than the foundationalism of the classics. Doyle, Sayers, Christie, and James drove the reality of justice delivered through what is right and true, even if through some very flawed detectives. Yet there seemed to be no hesitancy among them to call good good and evil evil. Readers expecting a world view that makes room for that righteous indignation will do well to realize Beaton does not go there; the primary emphasis is on Macbeth's ability to piece together a puzzle. Given these parameters--and if one enjoys a good cozy mystery--one should be able to pass many an evening by the fire with a Hamish Macbeth story at hand. A dram of whiskey is optional, but it helps!
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