Franklin

December 1, 2008 at 3:55 pm (Culture)
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I teach a course on American history at our local college.

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Benjamin Franklin, by Michael J. Deas

It’s an interesting subject, and one with a myriad of details. Of the more fascinating periods in American history is the revolutionary period, and the situations and histories of the founders.

A little bit of research will also uncover a very unique reliance upon God in the formation of the United States. They were keenly aware of the circumstances of their rebellion against Great Britain, and drew from a vast array of philosophies and ideal in creating something entirely new.

I wanted to introduce those themes to my course, and in my own lectures I drew extensively from the following article in this part of the course, and I will include, today, the first portion of it.

It’s a great read, for sure, and a great insight into the minds of the founders, and their reliance upon the hand of God in the forming of the first free society in the history of the world.

The article, published in The New American in 2002, is entitled The American Miracle, and is written by Dennis Behreandt. The portion below details the writing of the Constitution of the United States, and the unagreeable nature of the men who convened to write the document. Benjamin Franklin, the first American statesman, saw the disagreements, and had a unique proposal. Here it is, in the words of Behreandt …

Our War for Independence seemed destined for failure. But with the intercession of providence at key points, the American cause succeeded in spectacular fashion.

The creation of a new government hung in the balance. After almost five weeks of intense study and debate, of yeas and nays, of discord and acrimony, the convention was at a stand-still. Except for Rhode Island’s, all the states’ delegates, composed of the leading professionals and intellectuals

of the day, had met at the Philadelphia State House in May of 1787 in hopes of addressing the shortcomings of the Articles of Confederation, under which the young union of 13 former colonies operated. Despite these delegates’ intellectual brilliance, despite their patriotic diligence and goodwill, the convention had produced nothing but discord.

… By the end of June, the stalemate had solidified. On the 28th of that month, Benjamin Franklin, concerned that the convention would end in failure, prepared to address the delegates. Franklin was America’s elder statesman. At 81, he was the oldest delegate at the convention and, during his long life, had achieved a degree of fame and acclaim greater than any other American save Washington. His genius was wide ranging. A noted inventor, he famously studied electricity along with geology, agriculture, astronomy, and meteorology, among other subjects. He had distinguished himself as a printer and journalist and as a diplomat. Now, he addressed the assembled delegates.

Franklin’s words, like those of the other delegates, were carefully recorded by James Madison in his famous notes on the convention. “The small progress we have made after 4 or five weeks close attendance & continual reasonings with each other–our different sentiments on almost every question … is methinks a melancholy proof of the imperfection of the Human Understanding,” Franklin sadly observed. “We indeed seem to feel our own want of political wisdom, since we have been running about in search of it. We have gone back to ancient history for models of Government, and examined the different forms of those Republics which having been formed with the seeds of their own dissolution now no longer exist. And we have viewed Modern States all around Europe, but find none of their Constitutions suitable to our circumstances.”

Franklin continued:

In this situation of this Assembly, groping as it were in the dark to find political truth, and scarce able to distinguish it when presented to us, how has it happened,

Sir, that we have not hitherto once thought of humbly applying to the Father of lights to illuminate our understandings? In the beginning of the Contest with G. Britain, when we were sensible of danger we had daily prayer in this room for the divine protection.–Our prayers, Sir, were heard, & they were graciously answered. All of us who were engaged in the struggle must have observed frequent instances of a superintending providence in our favor. To that kind providence we owe this happy opportunity of consulting in peace on the means of establishing our future national felicity. And have we now forgotten that powerful friend? or do we imagine that we no longer need his assistance?

I have lived, Sir, a long time, and the longer I live, the more convincing proofs I see of this truth–that God Governs in the affairs of men. And if a sparrow can not fall to the ground without his notice, is it probable that an empire can rise without his aid? We have been assured, Sir, in the sacred writings, that “except the Lord build the House they labour in vain that build it.” I firmly believe this; and I also believe that without his concurring aid we shall succeed in this political building no better, than the Builders of Babel…. I therefore beg leave to move–that henceforth prayers imploring the assistance of Heaven, and its blessings on our deliberations, be held in this Assembly every morning before we proceed to business, and that one or more of the Clergy of this City be requested to officiate in that Service.

Franklin’s motion was adopted that day, but the effect was gradual. A few days later, on July 10th, George Washington, who presided over the convention, still fretted over the outcome. In a letter to Alexander Hamilton he wrote, “I almost despair of seeing a favourable issue to the proceedings of our Convention, and do therefore repent having had any agency in the business.” But the convention continued and compromise began to follow compromise and at the close of four months the delegates closed the convention in triumph.

Madison records that upon concluding the proceedings Franklin turned “towards the President’s Chair, at the back of which a rising sun happened to be painted, [and] observed to a few members near him, that Painters had found it difficult to distinguish in their art a rising from a setting sun.” Now, Franklin said, “I have the happiness to know that it is a rising and not a setting Sun.”

To Washington it seemed that God had positively influenced the proceedings. A few months after the convention’s close, he wrote to Marquis de Lafayette, “It appears to me … little short of a miracle, that the Delegates from so many different States should unite in forming a system of national government….”

Prayer was presented as the simple solution to such a complex problem. In the textbook I use for the course, Franklin’s plea is interpreted as a silly solution to serious squabbles. But the words of Washington are touching.

He perceived the authoring of one of the foremost pieces of government ever established as nothing short of a miracle.

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Feast

November 17, 2008 at 3:25 pm (Culture)
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(Note to you, dear reader. I’ve included a quick poll at the bottom of this post. Your answers are completely anonymous, so feel free to vote!)
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In early October, I, with a friend, had the opportunity to attend a worship conference in Nashville.

After an afternoon of travel, we entered into the lobby, full of people with coffee cups in hand, standing and networking and talking and laughing and wondering. There were book tables and, in the lobby, a baptistery, with a large glass window which viewed the large courtyard to the back of the campus.

As the sanctuary doors opened, we walked inside and found the auditorium which, with pews, could seat well over two thousand peoples, but instead of pews or chairs, it was filled with tables and chairs, and the thousand or so which came to the conference found their places and waited.

The worship leaders took the stage, an a capella group, with around a dozen singers, and the first note of the first song was angelic. The room erupted into praise from ministers and worship leaders eager to be filled during a worship assembly, a stark departure from spending Mondays virtually emptied from leading hundreds in worship on Sundays. I was one of those people, and found myself in a room of raw emotions and needful people, and could not sing, for my voice weakened, and my emotions softened, and the worship experience, though very subtle without musicians or bands or instruments, was simply remarkable, and easily the most transforming moment of worship I have ever attended.

The night of worship was such a feast for the soul. Great worship songs led into an emotive and energetic and intelligent speaker, which then gave way to another time of worship. That led to a video montage of several movie clips, which had most of us laughing, which then gave way to another moment of speaking. We then engaged into a community activity with those sitting around our table, and then were led again in a moment of worship. The two hour event moved fast, and was a true sensory feast. At the conclusion of the event, I was simply overwhelmed.

And it wasn’t because the quality of the worship leaders or the speakers was any greater than what I see, and in which I participate, every Sunday. It was just the careful and simple planning to ensure that you can connect with God in every single sensory way, from singing to listening to writing to watching to talking.

Traditional churches find this thought very revolutionary, with static schedules of worship. But a teacher in a classroom of second graders understands that if you want students to learn, and you want your learning environment to be a true learning experience, you need to ensure that your students can learn in a variety of ways, by surrounding them with varying angles of the same message.

Yesterday, in the church where I worship and work and lead, was a day very similar to the conference described above. The worship schedule included a brief moment of worship, then a presentation, followed by a longer period of singing. Our church then shared communion, and, before the offering, watched another presentation. We prayed for those who have been saved, and then heard a message on giving. After, we witnessed a baptism of one of our students, but the comments made by her father were just overwhelming and moving. I saw one of our church members at lunch, and he told me that the morning was just great — and that we only made him cry three times.

He is not alone. Great moments of humility typically follow genuine encounters with God. Isaiah, the prophet, could not speak when he saw the cherubim of God, and heard His voice. The face of Moses glowed after speaking with God on a mountain, but that was well after God approached him in a bush glowing with fire, but never quite burned. Elijah heard God in a whisper. Peter and Andrew and James and John, and others, saw God as a human, and watched him heal the withered legs of a crippled man. And they were soon given the same power to heal.

Moreover, all of those stories attest to the fact that God has no one favored way of approaching humanity, but, in fact, approaches us in a variety of ways, because we have varied ways of sensing and feeling and understanding. I believe we have every right, and every capability, to find and worship God with every emotive response we possess, for we are created that way.

We again tested this idea last night, when we hosted a more contemporary worship event, targeted for teenagers, with a sensory worship environment, that included, of all things, a painter, painting a scene from the crucifixion. With the lights dimmed, the schedule was again broken into parts, which alternated between moments of speaking and singing, and watching. It wasn’t variety, for the sake of variety, but rather, a genuine, honest attempt to reach a new generation of seekers, whose lives are filled with multiple tasks at once. They expect their experiences to be total and complete and surrounding. Others don’t, but find God in new ways when they engage in worship like this.

It was a worship of surrounding, with people finding God in layers of emotions and responses and experiences. It was truly a feast.
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Share your thoughts! Your submissions are completely anonymous, even to me, so please, vote!

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Write

September 12, 2008 at 2:49 pm (Church, Opinions)
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it’s how the kids do it these days.

and it’s a brand of communication i swore i would never do.

and yet, i do.  i love the english language.  i love the nuances of the language, and i love the way words are put together.  words are powerful, and they are powerful when they are spoken, and they are powerful when they are written.  and since i do both, and do both frequently, i figured that i would never demote the english language to such frivolousness as writing without capital letters.

and then i found facebook.  and since i direct a rather large student ministry, and since most of my students live their lives on facebook, i go where the kids are.  and that’s where they are.  and this is how they communicate.

captions for photographs are written without capital letters.  status updates are written without capital letters.  favorite movies.  favorite songs.  interests.  all of these things are written without ever pressing the shift key on the keyboard. 

and that poor little shift key.  once so important.  once used to start a new thought, or a new sentence, and now it has been left behind, ostracized.  and it is lonely.  now, in this new found mode of communication, where words are never capitalized, the shift key may be used only when SOMEONE IS VERY ANGRY.  and then again, it could be overlooked for the simpler caps lock key. 

writing without capital letters, really, is a way to communicate an attitude.  using all lower caps indicates that what you are saying is not very serious, or that your current mood is one of normalcy.  and it is different than the structured world in which we live, where homework must be written in proper english, and where reports and presentations must be written in strictly professional ways.  it really is a sort of rebellion, and so we decide that with friends and family, and our facebook crowd, we’ll only communicate in the ways we believe we talk, and surely the words we say are never capitalized.  and surely, talk of sports and relationships and movies don’t need such heavy restrictions, such as the usage of capital letters – we can just save all of that for when it is absolutely necessary.

so the little shift key is overlooked. 

but really, how much effort do we expend to press the shift key, anyway? 

wait.  i just used the shift key there.  so it needs to be used when you place a question mark at the end of your sentence.  so, we have found another use.  and an important use.  (even though you need it for parentheses, and apostrophes, in my common experience, neither are used much, and pale in use to the all powerful question mark.)  the shift key’s primary purpose, in this cyber-communication world, then, is it’s need for questions.

and there a lot of questions in this lived-online world.  it’s the normal, back and forth conversation, that usually involves statements and questions.  and when you mostly talk through your keyboard, face-to-face contact becomes tough, and awkward, so we just stick to talking with words that omit all capital letters.

because life is lived on the screens of millions of computers.
__________

we are now seeing the emergence of a new, common, vernacular language.  it is the underground language of the people.  it is the way to communicate to a great amount of people in this particular culture, so much so that if you enter this world, and use that little shift key, you’ll be seen as someone who doesn’t belong, or who doesn’t understand.  and whether you do understand or not is really irrelevant.  it’s that your appearance says otherwise.  and in an attention-deficit world, every edge you have to be relevant you take.  and if that means forsaking the beloved english language for teenage typing, then it must be done. 

because in an online world, appearance is less about clothes, and more about words. 

because words are powerful.  even how you type them.

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Calling

May 22, 2008 at 11:44 pm (Church, Culture, Purpose, Theology)
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It was midnight.  Little sleep.  College life.  A long distance relationship.  Uncertainity.

I awoke, really, with a realization.  A small little voice.  A leaning, really, to change my eventual career choice to ministry. 

It felt natural.  It really did.  Almost like, if I had not listened to that voice, I would have spent a few years running from, and searching for, that home-sweet-home feeling.

A change in my undergraduate major meant the addition of an extra semester at a university that was a little pricey.  Just a minor bump in the road.  Minor.  And my wife, not once, ever doubted that the voice I heard was the voice for her and the family we would eventually be given.

Within that year, I was again called, this time on the phone, to come preach at a small church not an hour’s drive away.  A weekend job turned into my first job after college.  My wife and I moved to the small town, into the parsonage, and began what, to this day, was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life.  That a church filled with old souls would listen to the words and teaching of a twenty-something is still tough to grasp, and only explained as though God gave them a generous amount of patience. 

The next call was a printed publication, an advertisement from a church with the need of a youth minister.  From the very first conversation, my wife and I both knew we would be moving.  God was working and leaning again, and his voice spoke through the five members of a search committee.  We moved, and I began a journey that is still quite the ride.

I received some papers this week, a list of some early lessons I wrote for our leaders of our student small groups.  They were deep, and naive, and green.  But God seemingly blessed those words, those thoughts.  And though those words were written for different leaders and different students, I attend the continued evolution of those groups now, on Wednesday nights, and though I take no credit at all for what I see, the exprience is beyond words.  Lots of students.  Lots of energy.  Lots of passionate leaders with a great ability to take the words in the lessons I now write and maneuver them, mold them, into a discussion that is always just right for the students they are teaching.

I go to my office during the week, and marvel at times that I have not lost any passion for student ministry.  I’ve been given the slightest of gifts that have kept me one step ahead of the cultural pace that feeds on the energy of teenagers.  God has guided my hands, my eyes, my thoughts, to find and seek ideas for programs, material for our curriculum, and the technological learning to accomodate the eyes and the time of a teenager.  I feel as though I am the one that has learned the most, and the journey I take with God is still one of humility.  I do not know what I am doing, even to this day, but expect God to direct where we can and want to be. 

He gave me access, early in my years here, to teach at the private school associated with our church.  He used those years, those rough and tough years, to teach me more things, newer things, about the broader base of student ministries.  He now allows me to teach at the local college, where my classes are always filled with high school students taking collegiate courses.  Teaching on the collegiate level has given me vision into the emerging and future world of the students involved in our ministry, and has also introduced me to the most current and successful teaching models for a classroom filled with teenagers and older adults in varying demographics.  It has also allowed me to be a current voice in the wider environment in our neighboring cities.  I am known as their teacher at college, and the youth minister at the church where their friends attend.  The doors that have opened for me in those classroom experiences are invaluable.

All of this is amazing to me.  All of it.  I am at a unique point (probably because of a two week break) where reflection is the order of the day.  And I am thankful to look back, after almost ten years in student ministry, and see the guiding, and most certainly, the providential hand of God. 

I had a thought, when I was a teenager, involved in the youth ministry of my church, that one day, maybe, I would be given the opportunity to lead and teach students.  Those thoughts still haunt my mind, for they were thoughts born of a certain teenage selfishness that plagues all of us during those years.  I ran from those thoughts early into college, with ideas of making my career in other things.  But God called.  And I had no choice but to listen.  My ministry path would lead from preaching, where I thought God may have obviously gifted me, to a ministry that needed the use of other gifts, ones I believed I did not have, and have spent the better part of the past decade learning. 

I am truly grateful for this path.  I realize the gifts I have are only for the moment I need them.  And there are times, like now, that I believe I could do this for the rest of my life.  I make mistakes, for everyone on a learning path is bound to stumble, but God has given me a church, again, with an abundance of patience.  They allow me and trust me with what I believe to be the most pressing ministry in any church.  It is a thing of God.  It truly is.

Student ministry is my calling.  My passion.  Moments teaching students, messaging students, meeting students, seeing students, are moments that are given by God.  And how thankful I am that He is most patient.  He is still, even after all these years, still working on me, preparing me for the next day, the next moment, and the next season, giving me what I need, when I need it.  It is truly, truly, a calling.

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Changing

April 16, 2008 at 3:41 pm (Church, Thinking)
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I teach in a state-of-the-art classroom.

I began the semester, however, teaching in a temporary classroom, without any computer, without internet access, and without any projection. The classroom was in a trailer at the back of the campus where I teach two different history courses on the collegiate level.  The only teaching medium the room offered was a chalk board.

The beginning of the semester was difficult without the assistance of what now seems to be needed technology.  In some ways, I felt the course would become primitive to the current collegiate standards of teaching today, and I was not satisfied at all with the arrangement.

Intimacy, however, was one advantage in the classroom. The student tables were in close proxemity to each other, and I stood in the front of the class, very, very close to the students at the front. I turned what I believed to be a disaster into a blessing, changing my teaching style to flow without the crutch of media presentations. And so the course began with intimate teaching and great discussions.

After spring break, my class was moved to the newest building on campus, which houses some of the most advanced classrooms in the country.

My first introduction to the classroom was the entrance, with lights that were activated by sheer motion. The lectern was a stalwart piece of furniture, with two screens. One was for the desktop computer, the other was a touchscreen for all of the technological aids the classroom offered. It controlled projection, the computer itself, as well as a laptop, a DVD player and a VHS player, and the document camera that also was equipped to the lectern. A flat panel television serves as a personal monitor for the instructor. There are also cameras in the room, and microphones placed at various intervals in the ceiling tiles, which serve for recording purposes, if the instructor so chooses to record the lecture to stream online at a latter date.

The only thing that is missing is a chalk board.

That chalk board became the focus of my course this semester. I was able to write and talk and move across the front of the room, as well as field questions and prompt discussions. But the new room, with all of its advances, is without the one thing that has driven education for the better part of a century. 

The room communicates to me, and to the students, that the teaching medium will change, or has changed already, and the presentation offered by the instructor must be different than what has been offered in the past.

That frightens me.

Overnight, I was asked, inadvertently, to change to an entirely different teaching style, one that is more technogically interactive, and one (dare I say) more impersonal.  I feel like the methods that were successful in the first part of the course are now, in a broad brush stroke, irerelevant.  I can adapt, and will, but the shock to me was great. 

The course now feels different.  Same students.  Same material.  Same instructor.  Different room.   And now, with only three meetings before the end of the semester, I feel like I need to prove, if to no one but myself, that the final three meetings can, and will be as beneficial and interactive as the first few, blending the succesful elements of teaching during this semester with these incredible advances. 
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I must admit that I see change in a different way now.  My generation looks at the previous generation, and is tempted to say that their familiar ways of communication are antiquated.  And those methods may be antiquated, from our persepctive.  But now, I am part of a ”previous generation,” teaching high school and first year college students, and their modes of communication are familiar to them, but new to me. 

Change is needed to communicate effectively.  Colleges are expecting instructors and professors to rethink how they communicate material to their students.  And instructors who fail to adapt will no longer be given students to teach.  Or students will refuse to listen. 

To be fair, too, when we look at change from religious perspectives, change generally refers only to communication mediums.  Vibrant members of any church want to see truth presented in ways that are easily digested.  And a casual look at the social climate of any given era mentioned in the bible will show that communication mediums changed with the era. 

Moses stood on top of a mountain, and, when discussing important matters, only communicated with the leaders of each tribe.  Judges sat beneath trees, or in common places to decide matters.  Kings used more noble approaches to communication, with edicts and mediators when speaking to their enemies.  Prophets walked through the streets, in very brash ways, to communicate lean and tough messages.  Jesus used personal approaches, with stories and object lessons.  Paul went to synagogues and, in some instances, to very secular, even hostile environments.

Mediums of communication changed.  But the message remained static. 

And maybe that is the point.  The message should always remain static.  But if the medium does not change, the static message may never be heard.

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