Hope

I don't know where to start. I'm not sure what to say. 

Abandoned Danville Church Burns to the Ground

That link will take you to the WCIA news story about this old abandoned church in Danville that burned down. But it was more than an old building or an old abandoned church to me. This is... was the Old Edgewood Building with the attached Hope Christian School.

From the middle of the building, looking toward the sanctuary.

Canyons and Crannies in the Bible

This is (sort of) the third post in a series. 

The First Post: Geometry and How to Think

The Second Post: Canyons vs. Crannies Theology

I am sure that there are a few people who've had their toes stepped on from my posts. If not these two, then any number of previous posts I've done, may have stepped on toes. I can admit that from time to time I've posted some things with the express purpose of toe-stepping. I can admit that. Though it was never meant to be overtly mean, I can admit that there have been a few times where I phrased things knowing that whether or not it stepped on any toes, it would still be received about the same way that a stray Lego piece is when encountered on the floor in the middle of the night... when barefoot. I could argue that some people just need to put shoes on (i.e. not be so sensitive), but that wasn't my main concern when typing these things out. Even though I can admit this with some previous posts, I want to stand by my claim that these last two posts, specifically the previous one, was not meant at all for an insult to anyone. The topic that I began to cover, I believe, is one of the most important topics that needs to be addressed in our American Church.  I believe this for two reasons. 

Canyons vs. Crannies Theology

Please don't be offended by this post. If you read anything here that you find offensive, please just talk with me. 

Anyone and everyone that believes that the Bible is the inspired Word of God, is a theologian on some level.  I absolutely believe this to be true. A person doesn't always have to be a professional theologian to be a theologian. Theology is simply the study of God, so one could be a professional theologian, investing their time and energy into this study, but they might also be a lazy theologian, deeming the study of the Word to be not all that important, at least not as important as Sports Center or their Facebook feed, but both ends of the spectrum depict theologians none-the-less. If a person believes something... anything... about God, they are a theologian. And if they also believe the Bible to be the inspired Word of God, then to some degree those beliefs are shaped by their reading, or their lack of reading, the scriptures. 

Geometry & How to Think

I know that anyone that comes across this will most likely find it a bit on the boring side. I get that. I'm not trying to build an audience here, I gave up on that dream long ago. At the same time, what I am going to say, I believe has relevance. I believe it is important. I believe that it borders on essential. And so I write it, not thinking that it is a statement that will sweep the nation or the educational system or even the 5 people I know online. I write it instead, as an actual exercise in thinking, which is the core topic of this post. So I encourage you to read it, to think about it, and to communicate with me about it, not for social media hype, but for community and dialogue and for thinking... 

Geometry

The longer I teach Geometry, the more I believe that the real purpose of Geometry is not how to find angles and identify shapes and compare congruent triangles... No. All of those things are secondary to, what I believe is, or ought to be, the real purpose of a Geometry Course. Don't get me wrong, all of those things, along with slopes of lines and right triangle trigonometry and the surface area of spheres is all important: amazingly, exceptionally, actually important. The more technical our world gets, the more these things are drastically important. And even if I go another way with Geometry... the "Geometry in Construction" way, which is another course that I teach, these things are still really, really important. Houses still need to be built with the proper pitch of the roof. Rafters need to be cut, doorways need to be square, and floors need to be level. Again... all important stuff... but... But the longer I teach Geometry, the more I believe that the real purpose of Geometry is not necessarily any of these things. The real purpose may be... ought to be... probably should be or at least could be... how to think. 

I guess that if I am going to talk about this topic in this format, I should probably attempt to accomplish a few things in this "talk". I most likely need to say something about the need for our youth to be taught how to think. You wouldn't think that this would need an explanation, but it might. From there I should try to show you why I think that the Geometry classroom is the proper delivery vessel for students to be taught how to think... I think. Let's start with the need for thinking by thinking about thinking, you think?

Just an Old Table

This is just an old table. 

At some point in the fall of 1986, I sat at an old table in an art class at Hope Christian School and scratched out a message from God to my future self. 

I was a freshman in high school. My teacher's name was Mrs. Clingman. Since it was already an old table at the time, it was covered with scratches, indentations, stains and drops of paint. I can remember scratching the bubbles out of the dried paint drops. You can see that in this picture: 

I also remember sitting at the other end of the table and noticing a little indentation that looked like an eye. I was probably supposed to be working on some other project or listening to my teacher give instructions on the next project we were to be working on or an art technique that I was going to need to use, but instead, I was doodling on that eye. And I can actually remember thinking to myself, I am going to write "I see you!" for someone else, someone who would come along after me and see this little eye and its little message. 

...

This morning I swung by our little church on my way to teaching summer school. My father had pulled these old tables out of our storage shed to toss into the dumpster we had rented. He had texted that he needed help getting them into the dumpster the previous day. He had been able to pull them out of the shed, but with the heat, he thought it best not to attempt tossing them into the dumpster by himself. I volunteered to meet him after my school day and help him throw them in, but decided on my own that I would just swing by there in the morning and throw them away. These tables had been in my life for as long as I could remember. I had probably sat at them during a vacation Bible school when I was 6 years old. 

To be more to the point, the previous Saturday we had a church clean up scheduled (hence the rented dumpster). Some of us who had been a part of Edgewood the longest, especially those of us who had attended when we were at the previous building, were having a challenging time watching some of the items make it into the dumpster. They were items that needed to go, but each one had a multitude of memories attached to them. For my wife and myself it was especially difficult because it felt like our time in ministry... with the bulletin boards we had made and designed, the things we had kept for a potential future aspect of the ministry, white boards and chalk boards we had put teaching notes on... were all headed for the dumpster. 

So I didn't want anyone with me when I went to throw these tables away. I had thought that maybe these tables might make it into a futue fellowship hall. ... Foolish, I know. Who wants old tables in a new fellowship hall? Especially these old, and might I say, exceptionally heavy, tables. These old discardable tables. These old tables that were only used for loaning for garage sales. These old tables that had been there for countless potlucks, Easter sunrise breakfasts, and various fellowship meals. These old tables that I had griped about their weight more times that I could remember. These old tables that were resigned from ministry and in the shed, but now were going to make their way to a dumpster. Just some old discardable, useless tables, no longer fit for ministry at Edgewood Church. 

But on the very last table I picked up... I knew this table was there, because I wanted a picture of the paint drops I had scratched off... and it was the final table. And then I saw it. As I lifted the next to last table to toss into the dumpster.... as I was contemplating the similarity between these tables and my life and time in ministry... I saw it. 

Oh. I had seen it before and knew that I was most likely the one that had written it, but when I saw it this time, the memory of scratching those words into the table came flooding back, but instead of seeing these words for what my intention had been when I had scratched them into that table in 1986, I saw them ... no... I heard them spoken to me, and my Lord, my Savior, my King, my Good Shepherd said to me, "I see you!"

 

The Clockwork Boy Dreamed

The clockwork boy dreamed. 

To the clockwork boy, it seemed,

That all the books he’d read

With boys and men of whom its said

They dared to reach beyond their state

And out of need, fulfilled their fate

Doing deeds, that were great

So maybe clockwork boy could be

More than clockwork, he would see. 

The clockwork boy waited. 

He dared to dream a time was fated

For him to reach beyond his state

And do a deed considered great

So wait he did for proper time

In meantime reading prose and rhyme

Dreaming big he hoped to shine

So maybe clockwork boy could do

A thing that poets will write too. 

The clockwork boy observed. 

Watched for needs where he could serve

Based not on gifts he bore innate

But hoped that gifts were born of fate

So plunging in when need arose

Not a dipping of the toes

A head-first plunge is what he chose

So maybe clockwork boy could trust

That though he lacked, it’d be enough. 

So clockwork boy acted. 

And gears and springs were all impacted

By strain of acts beyond his scope

But clockwork boy did naught but hope

That maker did have this in mind

When gears installed and springs he’d wind

Crafted as… one of a kind. 

So maybe clockwork boy won’t break

If acts were done all for his sake. 

So clockwork boy functioned. 

Doing deeds with one assumption

That deeds were done, not based on skill

But acts of grace done by his will

For to proclaim the gospel call

When fools and weak give their all

Then wise and strong of world will fall

And now clockwork life exhibits

Sufficient grace in all that it is. 

Then clockwork boy seemed

To fill his hopes and live his dreams

But clockwork parts won’t this strain take

Springs will fail and gears will break

No greatness now like stories old

Deeds unwritten, life untold

Wood hay stubble now unfold

Picked-up pieces moved aside

Pondering now what he had tried. 

So clockwork boy pondered. 

“What went wrong?” is what he wondered

He thought it wasn’t based on skill

Or wits or might or force of will

Weren’t it simply gospel grace

Enabled feeble, take their place

Along with chosen glorious race

Now he huddled, parts in hand

No strength remained to even stand. 

So clockwork boy darkened. 

No longer heard the call he harkened. 

No longer see the light from sky

No longer feel a breeze go by

Now alone in depths of pit

Ridiculous joke, piece o’ shit

Absent hope, this was it. 

No clockwork repairs in the deeps

Utter despair… a miserable heap. 

The clockwork boy looked

For any hope in maker’s book. 

He longed to find a simple word

From voice of him he often heard

Convey kindness when he spoke

Loved with simple lightweight yoke

The laden who were not a joke

But crafted with eternal thought

Into this scheme clockwork bought. 

The clockwork boy was let down. 

It seemed to him he had not found

The things that maker said were true

Of what a clockwork boy could do

Where was he when springs did break

When gears did fail and did not make 

Any difference for his sake? 

Does he stand now so far off

While the scoffers choose to scoff. 

But clockwork boy remained. 

Through grief there was some faith sustained

That maker had not failed at all 

But kept a plan with greater call

Beyond the clockwork boy’s own thoughts

With greater plans and fuller plots

Tying clockwork mind in knots. 

But written by a loving hand

He trusted now the makers plans. 

So clockwork boy picked up 

Broken pieces all messed up

Worthless now it seemed to him

For anything he might have been 

Tomorrow is an unknown thing

Miseries or joy to bring

Letting go of everything

He clung now to this only thought. 

His life by shed-blood had been bought. 

To my wife on our Anniversary

To my wife on our anniversary

I loved you when

Our journey began.

I love you now and

I'll love you then.

And when this journey comes to its end,

I'll listen to the story told

Of love...

... and love again 

(Written 20 years ago for our 8th anniversary.)