In my capstone class for Nursing, we have discussed the very real problem of burnout. It is an understandable issue when you consider that nurses are coming face to face with the sick, broken, and crisis-ridden every day. Their entire occupation centers on the fact that the body is fallible and weak, needing outside care from time to time. In my development courses, we discussed the fact that sustainable work involves trying to work yourself out of a job. The desire is that the work you do eventually brings enough stability and support, empowering those around you, that it can either a.) be resolved or b.) go on without your presence. I've done quite a bit of thinking about how development work overlaps with my understanding of nursing, but this is an area where I struggle. Clearly, the hope that nurses could work themselves out of a job is unrealistic. That will never happen in this lifetime.
There are a few questions in our covenant that address this frustration:
"For what are we hoping, as we understand that the kingdom is already but not yet?"
"How do we have hope for shalom in such a broken world? Especially when we will never get it right?"
"What will allow us to persevere?"
In facing future decisions, I've been asking myself this question a lot. How will I avoid the "brokenness fatigue" that can be plaguing for those who build a career based on service, while still allowing for appropriate amounts of lament? The reality is that this is a difficulty for everyone, since we are all functioning in a world that doesn't work the way it's meant to. Last night at staff meeting, I was reminded by the staff that it is through community and relationships that we can navigate the messiness of life. Lament is a healthy response, but can be mediated by a drive to do something about it with the support of people around you who are also motivated to bring justice and make changes.
What an encouragement. It is wonderful to be reminded that in your weakness, God's strength is manifested. The burden of the world does not lay on one person's shoulders alone, but collectively on all of us. Each of us has a very small part to play and while at times that insignificance is overwhelming, it is also liberating. The balance of these two extremes is important in allowing us to move forward.
I pray that our passion for justice and advocacy would not fade after leaving this immediate community (Calvin, the S-LC, the places we live), but that we would search out people and places that have a shared vision. I pray that our self-importance would be tempered with a sense of insignificance that encourages us to turn to those around us. Most of all, I pray that we would seek first the kingdom.
-Melanie Roorda, ABSL Coordinator
Somewhat relevant, but mainly a shameless plug:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IJfiXhI5UiWGungor comes to Calvin March 31st.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Friday, March 2, 2012
A Seed of Service-Learning Planted Abroad
Last semester I had the privileged opportunity of studying in Budapest, Hungary with 17 other Calvin students under the leadership of Jeff Bouman, professor and director of the Service-Learning Center. In Budapest, Jeff undertook the project of implementing Service-Learning while studying abroad. Students in our group participated at various placements, including schools, a coffee shop ministry for youth, church choir director, as well as working for volunteer coordination agencies. Kendra Haan and myself were assigned to a high school on the north end of Buda.
The Alternative High School of Economics (AKG) in Budapest is unique among schools and service-learning placements in my experience. Partly due to the foreign context, but also partly due to it’s inherent quality and characteristics. Twice a week, Kendra and I would depart the dorm at 9:00am, ride a tram to the 86 bus, and then proceed to with our commute north, along the Danube River, north of Margit Island. Our first classes began loosely at 10:05 or 10:10.
As the name of the school suggests, it is alternative in its approach to teaching, learning, and appearance. Although the building doesn’t stand out among its neighbors, if you look closely some windows are covered with artwork to be seen through the natural lighting. Entering the school, student artwork is ubiquitous. Hanging from the ceiling, adorning walls, filling shelves, and even covering railings and stairwells, you could not escape the art in this school.
Structurally, the school really stood apart from orthodox educational institutions I’ve witnessed, observed, or passed through. Striving to keep up with the educational reforms of the 21st century, the school splits learning into two phases. The first (7-10) is more generic and doesn’t record marks. The second, (11-13) offers students choices in a focus of interest and grants students more autonomy in the school.
Also unique is the school’s system of patronage. From the students’ time of entering the school, they are paired with a teacher as their patron. Each teacher typically has 8-10 students. The teachers purpose ranges from mentoring to discipline to friend, depending on the student and situation. The students and patrons will remain together until the time of matriculation.
When we started, the English department at AKG shuffled Kendra and I around to various classes to participate in circle discussions. After about two weeks of this, we were split into different classes with various roles. As the semester carried on, my role became more concrete in some regards. I was paired with three students who excelled in their English classes and we formed a conversation group that met every week. In other classes, I would attend the normal class session instructed by the regular teacher and join the lesson. For a few weeks in the midst of the semester, I filled in for teachers that were absent with illness or in the hospital. Overall, it was a very wide range of English class experiences. During one hour, I could be participating in a teacher’s planned lesson and English grammatical game, then I would sit with the three students in our conversation group in a public area in the school and have open discussion, and following this I might be given a whole classroom without a teacher and basically told to do whatever. Learning to deal with the lack of direction was a lesson that took me a while to grasp. Especially as a service-learning placement, I am used to having my duties laid out clearly. At AKG, this was not the case. They placed a lot of trust in us and I think it was helpful and beneficial for both parties.I also struggled with whom exactly I was serving during the semester. My first class visit revealed a student population of affluence. I am accustomed to service-learning placements at churches and public school systems in inner urban United States schools. How can I serve an affluent group of people and have it be beneficial to the work of building the kingdom? I struggled with this question all semester. Then, it came to me that perhaps I had the wrong framework. Rather than serving a certain rung on the societal ladder, I have been serving the universal educational institution. I have (hopefully) benefited the learning of others, and perhaps been a role model to students who could also participate in service-learning placements in school systems around Budapest. Because service-learning was a bit of a new idea to the students, maybe our presence planted a seed.
Taking on the role of teacher before a classroom full of high school students can really stretch ones capacity to love as well. My life thus far has found me in the role of peer or student much more than teacher in any context. To love students as a teacher was a different perspective. Often times, many students would either disengage the lesson or discussion, or be subtly disruptive. At AKG, discipline is given a different approach than regular schools, and as a visiting English student, I didn’t have the power anyways. In these situations, I let it go and made the best of the situation. At the end of the day, I knew that I had done my part, and to the students that wanted something from the situation, they took advantage of the opportunity.
Overall, I am very thankful that I made the decision to attend service-learning at AKG. I really enjoyed the semester here, even if my role was often times unclear and I was tossed into situations I didn’t feel prepared for. Through it all, I think I learned quite a bit about an alternative approach to education as well as gleaned much from my consistent interaction with Hungarians. I hope my presence helped further positive social change, though in the context of the larger educational system, I affected a small facet of it. It could be that I’ll continue this avenue of thought next year at AKG as a hired staff member. On one of my last visits to the school, the director of the English department at the school offered me a position teaching English in the Fall. I'm still deliberating over this decision.Saturday, February 25, 2012
"A Blessing for Wakefulness"
I woke up early Wednesday morning from a nightmare easily identified as an indication of stress. Amidst a busy season at the office and midterms in grad classes, we find ourselves confronted making a decision about kindergarten. Of course, it’s not just a decision about kindergarten. It’s a decision about the next many years of our family’s life and development and energy. It’s a decision about a community to which we will commit our children and into which we will pour our hopes for their formation.
When I woke up with the dream’s leftover anxiety, I prayed for the sort of courage that might write a theology of school choice. I found some solace in remembering dear friends who have made the same choice before us. I am deeply grateful for friends who are honest about both beauty and missteps in their lives. They are models for me and their kids are models for my kids. Someday I might like to write the theology of our school choice. Wednesday morning though, I leaned on words written by a friend, words I find particularly meaningful when I face fear and must remember to whom and to what purpose I am committed.
Waking up is hard to do
But once we see
How deep the suffering goes
How high the purpose of human beings
Created in the image of the Creator
What is sleep, but settling for so much less?
What is sleep, but surrendering to a tiny, lazy savior?
What is sleep, but biding time in such boredom
That eternity becomes bad news?
So, friends, may you be fully awake,
And in that wakefulness:
May you love beyond reason.
May you hope beyond what’s realistic.
May you find true pleasure in what pleases God.
May your hunger and thirst for shalom
Be satisfied by the Bread of Life
Embodied in the bread of earth.
You may find the full poem, "A Blessing for Wakefulness" by Kirstin Vander Giessen-Reitsema, here: https://www.catapultmagazine.com/wake-up/editorial/a-blessing-for-wakefulness
When I woke up with the dream’s leftover anxiety, I prayed for the sort of courage that might write a theology of school choice. I found some solace in remembering dear friends who have made the same choice before us. I am deeply grateful for friends who are honest about both beauty and missteps in their lives. They are models for me and their kids are models for my kids. Someday I might like to write the theology of our school choice. Wednesday morning though, I leaned on words written by a friend, words I find particularly meaningful when I face fear and must remember to whom and to what purpose I am committed.
Waking up is hard to do
But once we see
How deep the suffering goes
How high the purpose of human beings
Created in the image of the Creator
What is sleep, but settling for so much less?
What is sleep, but surrendering to a tiny, lazy savior?
What is sleep, but biding time in such boredom
That eternity becomes bad news?
So, friends, may you be fully awake,
And in that wakefulness:
May you love beyond reason.
May you hope beyond what’s realistic.
May you find true pleasure in what pleases God.
May your hunger and thirst for shalom
Be satisfied by the Bread of Life
Embodied in the bread of earth.
You may find the full poem, "A Blessing for Wakefulness" by Kirstin Vander Giessen-Reitsema, here: https://www.catapultmagazine.com/wake-up/editorial/a-blessing-for-wakefulness
Friday, February 24, 2012
Living the questions... still.
Last Monday, I gathered with the group of student leaders who facilitate service-learning in the residence halls for our biweekly meeting and asked them a simple question: "What do you want to talk about this semester?" Our meetings happen late at night due to the obnoxious complexity of college student schedules, and I'd been feeling at a loss regarding what topics would be worth their time and attention. So I asked. (I'm a big believer in democracy.) And I was astounded by the response.
My CPCs wanted to know how to communicate a vision to people. How to encourage other people to care about the things they already are passionate about. How to integrate service and intentional lifestyles into a variety of different careers and lifestyles after they graduate. How to balance--or juggle--the tension between witness and service and evangelism. You know, small questions.
I was really proud of them, on the one hand--and terrified, on the other. I'm only two years older than they are, after all. How am I supposed to speak into any of those amazingly profound and wonderful questions?
But that's the wrong question too. Because the point isn't that I have the answers. The point is that they are asking the right questions, and we can ask them together. Together, we can look for faithful responses to those questions--because there aren't clear, simple answers, and we might never arrive at resolution. But that lack of resolution is no reason not to search for truth.
So my plan for the next meeting is to tell stories--parables, like Jesus did, that point us to the Truth of the Kingdom, and that leave room for the shades of gray that exist in our life now. I'm going to talk about immigration reform, and introduce them to the people I know and love whose lives have been messed up by a broken system, and I just might get all riled up and teary-eyed. But in the process, I hope and pray that they'll glimpse my passion and maybe develop a bit more of their own. And that's the best I can do, right? Because just like Jesus did when He spoke to the woman at the well, we're invited to "come and see." Just like God did when He put on humanity and became incarnate, we're invited to become more human by learning and knowing each other's stories--and in the process we see a bit more of the truth. Like Karl Barth writes, we only are truly human when we're in relationship--when we look into another's eyes and really see her, or listen to him speak and really hear him, and therefore know Another. Then, as we see the truth about this world, ourselves, and each other, we come to care, because all of a sudden this brokenness is personal. Then, all of a sudden, we realize that we've lived into the questions with passion and that there's still room for grace, and that God is faithful even in that chaotic search for truth, and that ultimately His Truth will set us free.
-Kelly
My CPCs wanted to know how to communicate a vision to people. How to encourage other people to care about the things they already are passionate about. How to integrate service and intentional lifestyles into a variety of different careers and lifestyles after they graduate. How to balance--or juggle--the tension between witness and service and evangelism. You know, small questions.
I was really proud of them, on the one hand--and terrified, on the other. I'm only two years older than they are, after all. How am I supposed to speak into any of those amazingly profound and wonderful questions?
But that's the wrong question too. Because the point isn't that I have the answers. The point is that they are asking the right questions, and we can ask them together. Together, we can look for faithful responses to those questions--because there aren't clear, simple answers, and we might never arrive at resolution. But that lack of resolution is no reason not to search for truth.
So my plan for the next meeting is to tell stories--parables, like Jesus did, that point us to the Truth of the Kingdom, and that leave room for the shades of gray that exist in our life now. I'm going to talk about immigration reform, and introduce them to the people I know and love whose lives have been messed up by a broken system, and I just might get all riled up and teary-eyed. But in the process, I hope and pray that they'll glimpse my passion and maybe develop a bit more of their own. And that's the best I can do, right? Because just like Jesus did when He spoke to the woman at the well, we're invited to "come and see." Just like God did when He put on humanity and became incarnate, we're invited to become more human by learning and knowing each other's stories--and in the process we see a bit more of the truth. Like Karl Barth writes, we only are truly human when we're in relationship--when we look into another's eyes and really see her, or listen to him speak and really hear him, and therefore know Another. Then, as we see the truth about this world, ourselves, and each other, we come to care, because all of a sudden this brokenness is personal. Then, all of a sudden, we realize that we've lived into the questions with passion and that there's still room for grace, and that God is faithful even in that chaotic search for truth, and that ultimately His Truth will set us free.
-Kelly
Thursday, February 16, 2012
The Bride
Hi folks. I'm Jack. I'm a part of the Church.
I am not my own. I do not live in a vacuum. I cannot be governed simply by what I want. That won't work. Paul said, "I joyfully react to God's law in my head, but I see another law at work in my body, fighting God's law in my mind, and making me a prisoner of the law of sin." A prisoner of a law that makes me miss God's desires. Wow. That sucks. Who will save me from this body of death?
Oh.
Jesus.
There's no condemnation for us now, who are in Jesus, because the law of the Holy Spirit set us free from sin and death. Not that we don't still feel it. But we're not prisoners to it.
What? How?
I'll dare to say: Church.
When we confess our desires that don't match up with God's desires, we can begin to be free of them. I cannot confess to myself. The devil could have me lying to myself all day. I need my brother or sister in Christ to join me, and in His name, there He is with us, and sin cannot stay where He is.
We need Church.
I live at an intersection of two worlds. At the corner of Wealthy Street and Diamond street stand contradictions. On one side is the Wealthy Street Market, a small, family-run food mart with enough high fructose corn syrup and salt to fill its customers up nicely, but wreck their heath in the long term. On the other side, the Electric Cheetah and Brick Road Pizza, two restaurants with delicious, healthy, beautiful, local, lovingly made and procured food. Who frequents these places? How much money do they make? How much money does their family have? What is the history of their people? How have they wounded each other? Do they even know that the other exists? Do they even care?
Who can rescue us from this ugly separation? Jesus. How? The Church. How about a potluck, where rich and poor, all races, both genders, share food, are equally sustained by one another's contributions to the table?
We need the Church. Our neighborhoods need the Church.
I have learned, in my time at Calvin and at City Hope (my congregation), that the Church is a body of people. We are welcomed in at Baptism and sustained by the Lord's Supper. We are to be formed and re-formed into God's Image, as a community, not just one person. That formation happens in the congregation, and then the people are to go out, carry the light of Jesus out.
I want love for the Church and commitment to a congregation to be central to life at Calvin. Calvin College is not a church. But it forms us. Big time. And if we can be formed to love the Church and be committed to a congregation by our college, that would be wonderful.
Baptism used to be a pretty dangerous thing, because it meant the Roman Empire saw you as unstable and against the Empire. It's not that dangerous today, but it's still hard. It's a commitment. It's a sacrifice.
But it's worth it. Because God is Good. And the Church is His baby.
Love Her. Respect Her. She's not perfect. But she's our mother.
-Jack
I am not my own. I do not live in a vacuum. I cannot be governed simply by what I want. That won't work. Paul said, "I joyfully react to God's law in my head, but I see another law at work in my body, fighting God's law in my mind, and making me a prisoner of the law of sin." A prisoner of a law that makes me miss God's desires. Wow. That sucks. Who will save me from this body of death?
Oh.
Jesus.
There's no condemnation for us now, who are in Jesus, because the law of the Holy Spirit set us free from sin and death. Not that we don't still feel it. But we're not prisoners to it.
What? How?
I'll dare to say: Church.
When we confess our desires that don't match up with God's desires, we can begin to be free of them. I cannot confess to myself. The devil could have me lying to myself all day. I need my brother or sister in Christ to join me, and in His name, there He is with us, and sin cannot stay where He is.
We need Church.
I live at an intersection of two worlds. At the corner of Wealthy Street and Diamond street stand contradictions. On one side is the Wealthy Street Market, a small, family-run food mart with enough high fructose corn syrup and salt to fill its customers up nicely, but wreck their heath in the long term. On the other side, the Electric Cheetah and Brick Road Pizza, two restaurants with delicious, healthy, beautiful, local, lovingly made and procured food. Who frequents these places? How much money do they make? How much money does their family have? What is the history of their people? How have they wounded each other? Do they even know that the other exists? Do they even care?
Who can rescue us from this ugly separation? Jesus. How? The Church. How about a potluck, where rich and poor, all races, both genders, share food, are equally sustained by one another's contributions to the table?
We need the Church. Our neighborhoods need the Church.
I have learned, in my time at Calvin and at City Hope (my congregation), that the Church is a body of people. We are welcomed in at Baptism and sustained by the Lord's Supper. We are to be formed and re-formed into God's Image, as a community, not just one person. That formation happens in the congregation, and then the people are to go out, carry the light of Jesus out.
I want love for the Church and commitment to a congregation to be central to life at Calvin. Calvin College is not a church. But it forms us. Big time. And if we can be formed to love the Church and be committed to a congregation by our college, that would be wonderful.
Baptism used to be a pretty dangerous thing, because it meant the Roman Empire saw you as unstable and against the Empire. It's not that dangerous today, but it's still hard. It's a commitment. It's a sacrifice.
But it's worth it. Because God is Good. And the Church is His baby.
Love Her. Respect Her. She's not perfect. But she's our mother.
-Jack
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Who We Are
I've been taught, though words and/or experience, that it's the pinnacle of naivete to believe that people are innately good, but for some reason, I've believe with all my heart in goodness of humanity. Sometimes I think that my belief stems from being surrounded by such wonderful people as my friends and co-workers at the S-LC. Whatever the reason, I think you, with all your idiosyncrasies and flaws, are good.
Core classes at Calvin are infamous for being a drag. I'm a junior, and I've been skipping around my religion core, but I'm finally taking Religion 121. Well, Calvin professors and classes will never cease to surprise me with their insightful tidbits of knowledge. We have been studying Genesis 1 and 2 this past week, and my professor was elaborating on the topic of the "image of God." He pointed out that all of the Bible after the fall says nothing of this image being damaged or taken away. In a way, we humans have retained our innate goodness that God proclaimed when he said, "It is very good." Now, I know Calvin is reformed and total depravity and all that jazz, but I don't mean for this post to be a theological statement in anyway. I also don't mean to disregard our need for God's grace. I only mean to say that perhaps we are meant to see in others the image of God and thus see also the goodness in my annoying sister, in your unlovable classmate or co-worker, in the poor and unwanted.
Let us not in our recognition of the brokenness of this world fail to see the goodness God created in the first place.
Peace,
Anna
Core classes at Calvin are infamous for being a drag. I'm a junior, and I've been skipping around my religion core, but I'm finally taking Religion 121. Well, Calvin professors and classes will never cease to surprise me with their insightful tidbits of knowledge. We have been studying Genesis 1 and 2 this past week, and my professor was elaborating on the topic of the "image of God." He pointed out that all of the Bible after the fall says nothing of this image being damaged or taken away. In a way, we humans have retained our innate goodness that God proclaimed when he said, "It is very good." Now, I know Calvin is reformed and total depravity and all that jazz, but I don't mean for this post to be a theological statement in anyway. I also don't mean to disregard our need for God's grace. I only mean to say that perhaps we are meant to see in others the image of God and thus see also the goodness in my annoying sister, in your unlovable classmate or co-worker, in the poor and unwanted.
Let us not in our recognition of the brokenness of this world fail to see the goodness God created in the first place.
Peace,
Anna
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Lists
Lists: Oh, how I love them. To-do lists especially. In the midst of my crazy, busy life they help me stay sane and semi-organized. I was going to post a sample of one of my infamous task lists or my penciled full planner, or my desk full of sticky notes, but I will spare you all the pain of this horrid sight – especially on this, the end of only the first week of the semester. I don’t know about you, but for me these first 5 days of class flew by – right in front of my face like a cheetah or racecar or a bullet or the speed of light maybe. Yet, it somehow feels like I’ve been in class for weeks. (Does anyone else ever feel like this, or is it just me?)
Anyways, while I would normally shrug my shoulders to this feeling that I have felt so many times before, it dawned upon me this week why it is I feel this way. I’ll give you a hint: it isn’t because of the large amount of work I actually got accomplished for once, or the ridiculous amount of time I spent in class, or the new go-go-go busyness of a new semester schedule. BUT because…Ready for this? I am amount to be very profound. Hold your breath. Drum roll please……..I have discovered time flew this week because I have learned so much. Really. It was a lot. I seriously had a list (surprised?) of topics and good quotes and life lessons and bible verses that all came up during my week – all of which would have made awesome discussion topics to comment on here in this blog. The problem was that I couldn’t choose just one. They were all just too good. And in combination, they brought me some great insight as a whole:
Anyways, while I would normally shrug my shoulders to this feeling that I have felt so many times before, it dawned upon me this week why it is I feel this way. I’ll give you a hint: it isn’t because of the large amount of work I actually got accomplished for once, or the ridiculous amount of time I spent in class, or the new go-go-go busyness of a new semester schedule. BUT because…Ready for this? I am amount to be very profound. Hold your breath. Drum roll please……..I have discovered time flew this week because I have learned so much. Really. It was a lot. I seriously had a list (surprised?) of topics and good quotes and life lessons and bible verses that all came up during my week – all of which would have made awesome discussion topics to comment on here in this blog. The problem was that I couldn’t choose just one. They were all just too good. And in combination, they brought me some great insight as a whole:
1) Calvin is a place that fosters learning. And I love it!
2) Sometimes God has something he wants to teach us. Even if we aren’t in a place of looking or searching for answers. He puts us in the right place, at the right time, with the right people for a reason so that we might learn and grow.
So I have started making a new list, a list of what I’m learning each day, and each week, and each month because these are ‘aha moments’, facts, lessons, self-realizations that are worth remembering.
What have you learned lately? I challenge you to reflect on your week and see what God is trying to teach you.
Peace and Blessings in this endeavor,
Emily
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