To the Class of 2020

Graduations look a little different these days

It’s difficult to overstate the level of disruption the Coronavirus has brought into our daily lives. A few years from now we’ll likely view this period as a lost six months, year, whatever. For many of us, we’ll probably be able to shake off this experience and view it as no more than a strange blip that we lived through. There are simply some things, however, that will be permanently lost. One of the first that comes to mind is the opportunity to walk with your peers at an in-person graduation ceremony.

Whether we’re talking high school or college, your senior year is special. After all the waiting, you’re now in the class that’s at the top of the heap. After graduation, you’ll probably keep in touch with some of your friends, but it’s never quite going to be the same again. In that sense, graduation ceremonies are bittersweet mixes of celebrations and goodbyes. In my mind the lack of an opportunity to partake in a traditional ceremony robs students of closure both in triumphing over the academic struggles and in parting ways with classmates.

To all the Seniors out there, I’m sorry the virus robbed you of this memorable experience. There’s nothing I can do to restore that for you, but this week’s post is in honor of you, and hopefully you can live vicariously through the experiences shared here. It’s nothing major, but hopefully it’s at least fun to read.

One other major thing that distinguishes your senior year from all others is that, as upperclassmen, you’ve got dibs on pulling pranks. It’s important to understand that pranks are usually pretty pointless in terms of what they achieve, but they can be a thrill to plan and execute. The journey is the destination. Very seldom does a prank result in something that alters the course of history, but history is full of memorable “what was the point of that?” pranks.

As a senior in college, I was super busy my senior year (see this post for more background about how I brought this on myself). Some of my friends and other people from my class took part in some antics around the campus, but I just didn’t have the time to participate. A group of my friends snuck into the cafeteria one evening under the noses of the cafeteria workers and swiped a few stacks of the trays students used during meal times. They then brought them to the gym after hours, where one of the participants had “accidentally” neglected to secure a certain door upon locking up for the night. The next morning a whole bunch of meal trays were discovered floating in the pool, and I’m not sure how the cafeteria supplied trays for breakfast.

To our college’s credit (and to our dismay as student delinquents), they had a fantastic prank clean-up crew. I was on my way to class one winter morning, at least a few days after it had snowed, and as I walked along one of the main routes that included a tunnel through one of the buildings, it was odd to see one of the maintenance staff using a snow blower to remove a huge pile of snow near the tunnel entrance. I didn’t think too much of it until later, when I learned that someone I knew and a group of his buddies had filled up the bed of a pickup truck with snow multiple times, and then proceeded to dump the loads of snow in front of this tunnel. (And I know at least one of you is reading this…it was a great attempt, thanks for filling me in on it later!)

We eventually figured out that the diligence of the “clean-up crew” was the largest barrier to the “epic-ness” of whatever prank we would attempt. How frustrating it was to undertake these endeavors only for them to be covered up or countered by the college staff. We had to come up with something more diabolical. (These days I use my creative powers for good. Mostly. I am a dad of three kids, so there’s still some mischief.)

In our last month of senior year, a group of us decided that in order to have a bigger impact, we had to do something that would overwhelm the ability of the cleanup crew to quickly return things to normal. We decided that to get the largest percentage of the student body to see our handiwork, we would target the campus chapel on one of the nights before a chapel session would be held the next morning.

Coincidentally, all of us had work/study jobs as a way to pick up a little money. One of us had a job as a janitor somewhere on the campus. I don’t remember if it was a little at a time or if it was all at once, but one guy snuck a garbage bag full of toilet paper rolls that would be used to TP the chapel. Considering how precious a commodity toilet paper has been over the past few months, this seems like it could be considered a felony today. It also lends some insight into the truth behind why tuition prices keep going up so much.

I didn’t have an appreciation for how wasteful this was until recently

I was still very busy with things to do, but on this occasion I figured out a way to get stuff done while being a part of this prank. We had recently returned from an eventful club whitewater rafting trip, and I wanted to record many of the details in a journal before I forgot them. (You can read about some of those adventures here and here.) Between classwork, activities, studying for finals, and winding down my final college semester, I didn’t have time to effectively capture those memories. I even recorded more of those trip details while sitting onstage during Baccalaureate and graduation.

For this prank, I was going to be the lookout, with a walkie-talkie, who journaled during the dull parts. This was a unique situation, because although two of us had walkie-talkies (the lookout and one of the TPers), I would be the only one talking. I ended up using different voices to pretend to be a couple of different people on the radio who were playing some kind of game nearby, and we had established certain words ahead of time to indicate how safe it was to participate in the hooliganism. The guy on the other radio would listen to my babblings, keeping an ear out for these code words.

I sat at a spot where I could see most of the entrances to the chapel, and saw the pranksters moving one or two at a time toward the door they’d arranged to enter. A few of them carried garbage bags. They got inside and got to work. I think someone else heard my radio’s transmissions though, because a few people showed up in the area looking like they expected to find someone. A security guard eventually made his rounds, and even stopped to chat with me. I’m sure it was unusual, though probably not the weirdest thing he’s seen, to find a college student writing in a book in the dark. He probably put two and two together the next day, but we didn’t get caught that night. I gave the TPers as much time as I could to do their thing, but little things kept adding up, and I eventually gave the signal to scram.

We all met back up afterwards, and the TPers were very enthusiastic about the feat they’d accomplished. I didn’t get to see the final results of their work, but they told me they’d been running around up in the catwalks and loft, tossing TP through the chandeliers and other hard-to-reach places for all they were worth. “Man, they won’t have it all cleaned up for a week!”

I don’t know if I ever looked forward to a chapel session so much. The next day as I walked into the chapel, there was no sign whatsoever that Team TP had even been there.

Thwarted again.

Class of 2020, pranks may not have been at the top of your to-do list, but you probably didn’t get to do all the things you wanted to do before your last day of in-person class. That’s not the end for you, though. As you move into your next phase of life you’ll have setbacks and you’ll have triumphs, but the most important thing will be for you to keep plugging away, even…no…especially if there’s more “rough” than “smooth.” I believe you can do it, and that this will shape your outlook even after things pick back up again. Good luck, God bless, and best wishes as you make the most of the opportunities you encounter.

You’re the Key

Those are all keys behind him

When I was really young, my dad was a maintenance guy at a Christian conference center in eastern Pennsylvania, and our family lived on the campus. Groups of people from churches in New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania would come and attend retreats at this place. Once the groups departed, somebody had to walk around to all the rooms that had just been vacated, and make sure all the lights were turned off and the heat/air conditioning weren’t blasting in a vacant room. Sometimes that duty fell to my dad, and every once in awhile he’d take me along.

As a part of the maintenance staff, Dad had a key ring that was chock full of keys that opened just about anything and everything on the whole complex. It could be a master key for all the guest rooms in a given building, the key to the room in the gymnasium where they kept all the spare basketballs, the padlock to the room in the basement of the snack shack where they kept a bunch of electronics and motors, or a little key to adjust the thermostat in the meeting rooms. If you needed to open a lock anywhere on the campus, there’s a good chance my dad’s key ring had a solution.

As a kid, it was impossible to keep track of the differences between all the keys. A few of them stood out from the others; maybe some were shinier, bigger, or the head had a distinct shape or color. To me, though, most of them were indistinguishable from one another. If someone plunked me down in front of a random locked door somewhere on the campus with that key ring, it would’ve taken a good deal of time by trial and error for me to open it. Dad knew what each one did, though.

Now imagine that every Christian is a key on God’s giant key ring. There’s a door, or maybe a group of doors, that you have the ability to unlock (or lock). It’s your purpose; it’s what you were made for. You can be jealous of what other keys were built for, but it sure isn’t going to help you fulfill your role any better. You might even try to function in a lock you weren’t designed to operate, but it’s not what you were made for. Some people are dissatisfied or in denial about the lock in which they fit, and they want to choose their own lock.

Sorry Pardner, it doesn’t work that way.

There’s a lock out there for which you are the key, and you might encounter your lock during this unique time in history. The Man holding the key ring wants to use you according to His schedule, but if you’re unwilling or are too focused on a lock for which you’re not the key, you’re missing your calling. My request to you would be: work the lock you’re built for.

Planned Obsolescence

Ever notice how you can say “they just don’t make it like they used to” about a lot of things?

For example, my parents have a clothes dryer that’s older than me. It’s complained a bit every now and then, but the thing is built like a tank and is still going after a few fixes. Modern ones seem to break if you look at them the wrong way.

Newer cars seem to fall apart much easier than the ones from, say, 30 years ago. What used to be fixed by a good hit with a ball peen hammer now requires more genteel computer diagnostics to figure anything out before you can start to make repairs.

I don’t know if this is true or not, but I heard that back in the 1940s and 50s, women’s pantyhose was of such high quality that the manufacturers worried they weren’t selling enough to sustain their businesses. Their product was so good that after a woman bought some, she didn’t need any more for a long time.

Enter the idea of planned obsolescence, or the intentional use of lower quality materials and construction to shorten the lifespan of a product in an effort to induce consumers to buy more of them. If it falls apart sooner, you’ll end up buying more units than you otherwise would have.

Here’s an odd thought: what if we are the lower-quality product? In 2017 the average life expectancy for Americans was 78.54 years. By comparison, at that point in Moses’ life, he hadn’t even stood before Pharaoh yet. Abraham didn’t have his first child until he was 86, and then he lived about 90 years beyond that. Noah was over 500 years old when he started building the ark, was 600 when the flood started, and he lived another 350 years beyond that until he was 950 years old! This was before antibiotics, nutritional supplements, and the medical knowledge we enjoy today. My friends, you and I are some of the best examples of planned obsolescence I can think of.

Even great figures of Biblical history are shuffled off the stage of God’s theater. Consider King David. Though flawed, he was one of the most genuine and passionate characters in the whole Bible. He’s the stuff legends are made of; as a youngster he vanquished a giant professional soldier with a sling and a rock, then went on to lead raids of enemy camps with ragtag mercenaries as his companions. Although defined as a man of war, his zeal for the Lord led him to set the stage for Solomon’s construction of the Temple by collecting an unbelievable amount of precious metals and other materials. Jesus came from the line of David, for goodness’ sake! At the end of his life, he was unquestionably recognized as a giant of the Faith. Yet even he was just a man, and was intended to play a small role in God’s overall plan. In spite of all his accomplishments, listen to how David is described in Acts 13:36:

“Now when David had served God’s purpose in his own generation, he fell asleep; he was buried with his ancestors and his body decayed.”

“Falling asleep” in the Bible is usually a euphemism for dying. That’s not the interesting thing though. There are a few different things we can take from this verse, but the two I want to focus on are 1. that he served God’s purpose “in his own generation,” and 2. when he had fulfilled God’s reason for putting him here on Earth, he moved on into eternity.

To the first point, can you imagine if you lived during a different time period? You could have lived 4,000 years ago, or you could have been placed on hold and not made your debut here on Earth for another 200 years. God put you in the here and now intentionally. You are a part of “your generation” because you are to fulfill God’s purpose within it. I don’t know what that purpose is and you might not either, but the fact that you’re reading this right now, today, means you probably weren’t born before 1940 or so. The “today” you see is not an accident or a random assignment, you belong here.

To the second point, you’re here on Earth to do whatever God put you here to do, and you might not be going anywhere until you do it. At some point after that He’ll escort you from this life, but it could be seconds or decades between when you “complete your mission” and you make your departure. To throw a curveball at the situation: almost none of us know with full certainty what our specific purpose is or when we’ll accomplish it.

Zooming back out to the big picture and our limited time on Earth, it seems we might be a little bit more like an aging toaster than we care to admit. We can tell when things are getting toward the end, but most of us can’t predict when we’re toasting our last bagel.

What are we to do then? I’ll summarize it as best I can:

Love God ferociously and use the talents, resources, and circumstances He’s matched you up with to make a positive difference in people’s lives, all the while giving the glory to Him. You will fall, you will have self doubts, and in many cases you will fail. There may be more bad days than good days, but you have been placed here, at this exact point in history, to make an eternal difference in some way.

There’s a song we’ve all heard a million times; it’s one we usually hear in December, but its message fits with the core of this post. If you were meeting the newborn King of Kings, and you simply couldn’t compete with the expensive gifts that others brought, one of the best things you could do is use the talents He’s given you to make Him smile. Isn’t that what we’re all after? (There’s a fun version of this song below.)  

Do your best to serve God’s purpose in your generation.

I Hear What You’re Saying, But…

If I told you I’m a parent, you’d probably believe me, but it’s not the same thing as seeing evidence that I’m a parent.

I came home from work one day and saw a Frisbee on the roof over our garage. We often have misspelled words and stick figures drawn in different colors of chalk on our driveway or sidewalk. In the summertime I often see little bits of broken water balloons on our porch. Inside the house, the living room is seldom “all the way” cleaned up, even if we tell the kids to make it “Mommy and Daddy mode.”

We have kids, and there are signs of them everywhere. (It’s unquestionably a good thing, even though sometimes there are a few too many signs.)

These things, in and of themselves, are not proof that I’m a parent. To an observer though, these signs make the notion a lot more believable.

There’s something similar when it comes to Christianity. If you claim to be a Christian, yet you haven’t changed at all from the way you were before joining the faith, something’s probably not quite right.

Galations 5:22-23 describes the qualities that a Christian will develop over time. The author’s not saying that only a Christian could have these qualities, but, in the same way that the Frisbee on my roof is probably there because of a kid rather than an adult, a Christian’s life will contain signs, indicators, or evidence of the faith they’re claiming.

When someone accepts Christ, at that moment the Holy Spirit sets up shop in that person’s life. What does that mean? It means that from that moment on, God starts working on changing your attitude to be more like His. I heard someone say once that God accepts you for who you are, but He loves you too much to leave you that way.

My mom used to have a tee shirt with a three-by-three grid on it. Inside each box was a picture of some kind of fruit, but instead of labeling them “grapes” or “watermelon,” they’d say things like “patience” and “self control.” These nine things (love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control) collectively make up what the Bible calls “the fruit of the Spirit.”

Having these fruits is not something that happens quickly. Fruit takes a long time to grow. You can’t put in a weekend of intensive Bible reading and prayer and have these things spring forth in your life; it takes time. The outcome of being a Christian and continuously pursuing a relationship with Christ is a life that is characterized by these nine fruits.

Consider taking a closer look at these traits. Is there one (or several) that you’d like to develop or increase in your walk with Christ?

Happy birthday Mom! Love ya!