Christmas Meditation 2019

Each Christmas, my parents would read the account of the birth of Jesus as told in Luke: “At that time the Roman emperor, Augustus, decreed that a census should be taken throughout the Roman Empire.” It’s a tradition I’ve tried to carry forward with my kids. I love how the efficiency of the narrative highlights the focus on Mary’s treasured thoughts. I love that humble shepherds get paragraphs while the rulers barely get phrases. It all seems fitting for a story that turns realities upside down: the first are now last, the humbled exalted.

However, as I get older, I find myself more drawn to another gospel’s account. The poetry of John speaks truth to me in a way narrative, limited by definition, can not. 

Perhaps it’s the association of cartoonish nativity scenes and pageants, or the ritual of reading from the Bible before getting presents. 

Or- my need to consider the why of the story is now greater than the what of the story. 

Because I find myself battling a cynicism of a world that seems to be growing more shallow and cruel each day.

And that cynicism extends to myself just as often- as I consider my shortcomings and the way I find myself in the Avett Brothers’ lyric: “there’s a darkness upon me that’s flooded in light and I’m frightened by those who don’t see it.”

John’s gospel account can’t be told as a child’s story. It’s heavier than that. It speaks of eternity and acknowledges the harshness of existing in our reality. Christmas should be a celebration, but it’s a celebration because the divine entered into the broken, the corrupt, the dark. 

We fill our social media pages with happy images but often Christmastime joys are fleeting and shallow because the world is too broken, and corrupt, and dark to be overcome with gifts and carols. We need to be reminded, I need to be reminded, that the only light that truly overcomes darkness is Christ.

In my own life I have been blessed in specific ways, particularly with a family that is woven together with the gospel’s thread- a wife and friend whose grace and faith humble me. And still I need to be reminded. My anxieties, and the restlessness I feel when I’m not immersed in work, can push me toward darkness, but the light of The Gospel  reminds me that- while I live in a world fringed by darkness- my call is to embrace and point others toward light that is Jesus.

“The Word gave life to everything that was created, and his life brought light to everyone. 

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness can never extinguish it.”

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Forty Good Fridays

In my late teens and early twenties I would spend Sunday mornings studying a cracked sanctuary wall. The crack ran behind a wooden cross, which had warped ever so slightly as the building settled and stressed.

It seemed the cross held it all together.

During those Sundays, particularly around Easter, I wrestled with questions. The brutality of the cross and the mystery of the resurrection challenged me. Once, my pastor, a man whose wisdom and perseverance in faith moves me still, told me "Troy, I don't have all the answers. I'm not even aware of the questions." At the time, his acceptance of  mystery perplexed and frustrated me.

I thought by my fortieth Good Friday, I would have more figured out, but it doesn't seem to be the case. The mysteries of faith are still mysteries to me- I question like Thomas.

However, as time has passed, I find myself perplexed but less frustrated. The cross is still brutal, but I realize more and more that the world is too. And it is unjust and lacking in selfless love. If there is any justice or unconditional love, I find it only in the cross. Time has given me opportunity to consider this.

Time has also given me opportunity to share life with folks who have been transformed by The Gospel.

I carry the image of an elderly man in Southeast Kansas with weathered skin who labored each Sunday up the steps to the pulpit to say, "Let's stand and praise the lord." His words delivered with the clipped accent of the reservations near by, he led the congregation in the Doxology with striking gentleness.

At a Methodist Christmas Eve service in Arkansas, a pastor, whose body bounced during hymns and face smiled during the homily, placed a piece of bread in my daughter's mouth as I held her in my arms. He looked into her dark eyes and said, "Eat this and think about Jesus." He was joy filled.

Lately on Sundays, I find myself spending my mornings with a woman who is blind. Every Sunday she is first to volunteer to read scripture and there is a power and peace that resonates from the braille, through her hands, to her voice.

And for four years I had a unique perspective to watch a tribe of twenty somethings, who often looked like they crawled out of tents at a music festival, step out daring acts of faith, turning ashes into glory for kids in foster care. To me they will always personify the greatest, Love.

I enjoy the company and fellowship I find in all stripes of communities, but the encouragement and inspiration I find among believers is unique.

Those who know me best know all the ways my walk is flawed and my faith is fragile. My Thomas faith still wrestles with questions, but I am still compelled.

With this Thomas faith I will pause on Friday, and with it I will wait with anticipation for Sunday.

Culture Making, Pancakes, and a New Principal

Five years ago I borrowed a copy of Andy Crouch's Culture Making from a friend. The book explores the ways people of faith have impacted culture throughout history. Its pages survey art, architecture, history, and religion. I enjoyed reading the book and discussing its ideas with my wife and friends. Five years later, after completing my first year as a principal, I can't help but reflect on the ways the book influenced my view of leadership.

Here are four takeaways from the book that are worth considering.

1.) We should all be engaged in the act of making, not criticizing, culture.
2.) Real culture making occurs at the level of individual relationships.
3.) The most valuable culture making is motivated by concern for, and a desire to elevate, the most vulnerable.
4.) Food is important. Crouch's love of omelettes and lentils serve as personal illustrations of his micro level culture making.

I'm often guilty of stretching intellectual arguments for activities that are mostly for fun, but I think Culture Making justifies one of my favorite practices, making chocolate chip pancakes to celebrate the achievements, large and small, of students.  Favorite breakfasts include new students and the students who made special efforts to make them feel welcome. My vision of an effective school is one that functions much like a family. I'm not sure how effective I am at steering culture school wide, but I hope the pancake breakfasts help point the rudder in the right direction.

Many voices offer advice to school leaders on shaping culture. Culture Making places the need for culture makers in a broader historical context, making the work even more essential. Crouch, who holds a Master of Divinity from Boston University, makes the case in a way that is intellectually and spiritually stimulating. 

Inspired by Coyote Hill

My faith in humanity is often thin. Admittedly, many times, my Faith isn't much better. But for the last four years I've found consistent encouragement and reassurance while working with the families at Coyote Hill. While cleaning out my office I found a Christmas gift given to me by a few of the House Dads at Coyote Hill during my first year as principal: a Santa nutcracker dressed in a Hawaiian shirt that resembles the one I wear to ward off snow days. Any family that has middle school boys will most likely have some interaction with the middle school principal and the families at Coyote Hill are no different. When the dads gave me the nutcracker there were snickers. This was just one example of the humor, zest for life, and generosity of spirit that always impressed me when dealing with the Coyote Hill gang, a group of folks, mainly in their twenties, who chose to give up most of the pursuits of their peers to dedicate their lives to loving and raising kids from hard places.  For most it's been a path that they've chosen only for a season before moving on- sometimes adopting kids in their care. Seeing these forever families form has been inspiring. The provision of awesome house parents when folks move on has been inspiring. More than that, watching kids' lives be transformed by Christ's love has been inspiring. A Santa nutcracker in a Hawaiian shirt is an odd symbol of all that, but I'll be keeping it with me to provide the reminders and encouragement that I too often need.