Reflections for Thanksgiving

This Thanksgiving, I want to reflect on the contributions of some of the unsung heroes of American democracy, industry, and science. They’re not household names, but we owe them a debt of gratitude, for others more well-known have built on their foundation.

We know of course about the contributions of Thomas Jefferson to the political, cultural, and scientific life of this nation. But are you aware of George Wythe, his mentor? Born in 1726 and living long enough to see the birth of a new nation, Wythe was probably the first great American law teacher. In his home in Williamsburg could be found not only Jefferson, but also John Marshall and Henry Clay. It was Wythe who in 1764 drew up a forceful objection to the oppressive Stamp Act. He signed the Declaration of Independence and was a member of the Constitutional Convention in 1787.

We can imagine the influence of Wythe on Jefferson as the young man read law in his home in the 1760s. The conversations they must have had, the people to whom Wythe introduced Jefferson, the sharpening of Jefferson’s intellect all led to that day when Jefferson wrote the Declaration. They influenced him as an ambassador to France and in his presidency. We owe a great deal to Thomas Jefferson, but we must remember the one who taught that great man and know that we stand on his shoulders as well.

We stand on the shoulders of those whose accomplishments have given us the tools and technological advances and advantages we take for granted day after day. People with names like Copernicus, Galileo, Newton, Edison, Curie, Pasteur, Einstein, Dyson, von Braun, Watson and Crick, Kelly Johnson, Chuck Yeager, John Glenn. We don’t know their names, but we need also to reach far, far back to the primeval person who first discovered how to make a fire anywhere or the one who first fashioned a stone tool or fitted a wheel to a cart or set down thoughts in cuneiform writing.

It is true we have great minds living today, and the succession of wonders keeps coming at a breathtaking pace. At the beginning of this century, it was estimated that more information had been generated from 1970-2000 than in the past 5,000 years! One weekday edition of the New York Times contains more information than the average person encountered in his or her entire lifetime in seventeenth century England.

But to paraphrase Ecclesiastes, is there anything really new? Are we not simply privileged to add rows to the ever-higher human pyramid? Would we have space travel without the work of Copernicus or Newton or the firm stand of Galileo against superstition and dogma? Or DNA testing or genetic engineering and therapy without the discoveries of Watson and Crick in the late ‘50s? We owe a tremendous debt to those who invented the computer or the MRI or the laser. Regarding the last, in 1917 Albert Einstein recognized the existence of stimulated emission of radiation from atoms. It took until the 1950s, though, to find ways to use such an emission in devices. The American physicists Charles H. Townes and A.L. Schawlow and two Soviet physicists first showed that it was possible to construct a device using light in wavelengths we can see. The first laser was constructed in 1960 by Theodore Maiman in this country and used a rod of ruby. These guys are, again, not exactly household names, but we owe them a debt.

Think about it. Have you ever had laparoscopic surgery? I have, and I am grateful for lasers every time I think about my four little scars versus the big one my dad got when he had his gall bladder removed 30 years ago. Does your credit card have a hologram on it? Lasers again. Ever use a laser pointer in a presentation? Things we take for granted and enjoy are ours because we stand on the shoulders of those with the intellect, the resources, the imagination to conceive of them, develop them, and build them.

We’ve got so much to be thankful for this holiday. At the top of our list, let there be those on whose shoulders we stand, who have made it possible for us to be and do what we are today.

© 2009 Tom Cheatham

Please note: There will be no post next Friday.

 

Reorientation

And no one puts new wine into old wineskins; otherwise, the wine will burst the skins, and the wine is lost, and so are the skins; but one puts new wine into fresh wineskins (Mark 2:22).

After over a year without a pet, we got a new dog about 10 days ago. She’s a sweetie, an eight month-old rescue dog named “Chloe” that Susan found online. A miniature dachshund, of course, as were our two others.

Chloe has her own personality, her own take on the typical dachshund traits that we love and are sometimes challenged by. And I know one of these days we will cease calling her by her predecessor’s name. But right now, about half the time, we talk about her as “Penny.” We’re still getting adjusted or we might say oriented to our new pet, as she is to us.

Part of that orientation, too, is trying to find our pet-owner rhythm again. We’ve rarely been without a dog throughout our entire marriage, and we know that we will establish a routine. But right now, getting used to the new pup’s habits, taking her for first check-ups at the vet, figuring out what she will eat, and house training her feels disruptive, even though we’re glad to do it.

Any change, whether joyful like having a new pet or not so great, like losing someone you love, brings stress and disorientation. Life is interrupted. We don’t know whether to zig or zag, how to fit in the new reality with our old patterns. Well, it may be that such cannot be done. The old patterns have to go. As Jesus said, no one puts new wine in old wineskins, because the skins will burst, and the wine will be lost.

In other words, we can’t go back to our old lives. We can only go forward.

Walter Brueggemann, the biblical scholar, comments in one of his books on the pattern one finds in many psalms: orientation-disorientation-reorientation. Life deals us a blow or brings a change which sends us reeling. Our old understanding is gone, and nothing has come yet to take its place. A loved one dies, and we have difficulty coming to terms with the loss. But then somehow—I prefer to believe by the grace of God—somehow we are reoriented, that is, we find a new direction, a new way of looking at the world. We can go on, changed, wounded maybe, but somehow more whole.

Everything I need to know I learned from my dog. Or maybe it’s from being a dog owner.

© 2009 Tom Cheatham

 

 

 

What I’ve Learned

In October and November, I mark two significant events in my life. One is a birthday, still a welcome celebration though I am heading headlong toward 60. The other is an ordination anniversary, on Reformation Day; this year it’s number thirty-two. A relaxing vacation weekend gave me time and energy to reflect on what I’ve learned over these years.

As you have come to expect in these pages, the lessons are simple ones. Maybe that’s a lesson in itself, since anyone who knew me back when will tell you there was little about me or my way of acting and speaking that was simple. I hope it’s the years and the experiences those have brought that have uncomplicated me a bit.

So, here goes with #1: show up. How many of us live in the past or the future and are not really present for today? We may be physically present, but our minds and our hearts are light years away, dwelling on some regret or an as yet unfulfilled dream. So we miss what’s here for us in this moment, right now. Like the sunset I didn’t see because I was trying to figure out the icons on the remote for our heater in our vacation cabin. Every moment holds possibilities. Indeed, some scientists even tell us that every choice spins off a new universe. So we need to be present, show up fully and joyfully, in this moment, this day, this place if we are to take advantage of what our bountiful God wants to give us.

#2: be alert. We spent a great deal of time on the back deck of our rented mountain cabin looking out over the valley below. No, watching would be a better word. We wanted to see whatever came our way, and knew that in that environment, we might well witness something extraordinary. Our vigilance was rewarded the last day, as we scanned the valley and the sky one more time before leaving. First we heard the distinctive cry. Then we saw them: two eagles, soaring on the wind! Incredible! To see eagles in the wild! We both said “Now we can leave. What can top that?” A marvelous experience, given because we simply had our eyes open and expected wonder to wander our way.

Finally, #3: be prepared. We had already packed the binoculars when the eagles flew by. I ran out to the car and got a pair, in time to see the great birds. But why had I not simply kept the glasses nearby? If something wondrous and awesome may come our way at any moment, then doesn’t it make sense to be prepared with the education, the tools, the perspective to fully enter in without hesitation or having to scramble to get what we need, only to find the opportunity gone? Like pilots ready to mount the cockpit on the Klaxon’s blare, firefighters in the station house on call to battle a blaze, we too can be ready. The Coast Guard motto Semper Paratus  (“always ready”) is also a good one for life.

Show up. Be alert. Be prepared. May God give us grace so to live!

© 2009 Tom Cheatham 

 

 

Occam’s Razor II

When I became interim pastor for a nearby church, I was given a set of keys by the clerk of session during worship on my first Sunday. Being granted access to everywhere and anywhere in the buildings was, of course, a sign of welcome and great trust.

But there were and are lots of keys. One for the front door of the house where my office is and one for the back. Another for my office door and yet another for my desk. And one more for the front door of the church building. I added the ministry key ring to my already existing wad of car key, house key, parents’ house key, and storage unit key, in addition to the keyless remote for my SUV. Pretty soon I began to worry that I would wear a hole in the pocket of my pants from carrying all those keys.

I was considering getting one of those old-fashioned key cases like I used to have years ago. I told Susan about my plan, and as usual, she came up with a simpler solution. I didn’t need to spend time looking for a case or money to buy one. All I had to do was consider what keys I had to have daily and put the rest away. Or take them with me, but not in my pocket.

What a great idea that was, and it’s working out great! And what a model for solutions in so many areas of our lives. So many of us seem to be wired to approach a problem or need by throwing money at it or buying something. We spin our wheels looking for an answer when the one we need is right before our eyes, if we would but open them.

Thinking outside the box these days means looking at life and organizations with the basics in mind. Not how we can spend more money, but how we can enhance relationships. Not how to build bigger buildings, but how to build self-esteem and confidence. Not complicated, wordy liturgies, but worship that touches people on an intuitive,experiential level and transports them into the presence of God. Not the first solution that comes to mind, but creative options that take a little thought.

As Occam’s Razor says, all other things being equal, the simplest answer is most likely the right one.

© 2009 Tom Cheatham

 

Selfishness

Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves.—Philippians 2:3

You must understand this, that in the last days distressing times will come. For people will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boasters, arrogant, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, inhuman, implacable, slanderers, profligates, brutes, haters of good, treacherous, reckless, swollen with conceit, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, holding to the outward form of godliness but denying its power. Avoid them!—2 Timothy 3:1-5

God alone is Lord of the conscience, and hath left it free from the doctrines and commandments of men which are in anything contrary to his Word, or beside it, in matters of faith or worship.—historic Presbyterian principle

I have been disturbed recently by some stories I have either read or heard that point to the selfishness of people who think they are entitled to foist their beliefs on others, no matter how hurtful the consequences. I suppose I shouldn’t be shocked or dismayed that folks act this way in our day of “my” this and “personal” that, niche marketing and customization to make sure you or I have exactly what we want. But these stories particularly struck me because they all involve people in positions of authority and responsibility who have abused those positions to promote their view of reality.

This one was on the national news. A justice of the peace in Louisiana refused to issue a marriage license or peform a wedding ceremony for an interracial couple. Such marriages are legal in Louisiana, but the JP substituted his personal belief for the law. He said that he felt such marriages were bad for children, and he would not apologize for what he knew in his heart was right. The couple got married by another JP, but not before the bride was reduced to tears by the insensitivity and outrageous behavior of the official whom they had asked first to help them.

Another story I read in the local paper. Students at a high school were having their pictures taken for the yearbook, as is common. A lesbian student who always wore masculine clothes wanted to appear wearing a tuxedo, like the guys, rather than in a “drape,” like the girls traditionally wore for photos. There was nothing in the school regulations that prohibited this young woman from doing so. However, the school administrator did not permit the girl to appear in the publication in a tuxedo, citing his “conviction” that she wouldn’t be in the yearbook so dressed. A lawsuit is in progress over the matter.

Finally, a friend told me this one. A little girl’s cat died. The family buried the animal in the back yard, saying appropriate kitty cat funeral words. The girl went to her “Christian” school the next day and told her teacher about the funeral, and how glad she was her beloved pet was in heaven. The teacher replied: “Cats don’t have souls. Your pet isn’t in heaven.” The little girl was reduced to tears and deeply hurt.

What sort of cold, insensitive teacher lectures a child on theology instead of acknowledging her pain and comforting her? What kind of school permits such behavior from its faculty? What possible secular educational purpose is served by an official forcing a girl to deny her developing gender identity because of his “conviction”? How much time and energy has been and will be spent on this issue that could have been better used on helping students acquire marketable skills? And even if the official in Louisiana felt it violated his conscience to marry people from different races, could he not at least have acknowledged that his actions caused pain? Or did he not believe these people worthy of such consideration?

If by their fruits you shall know them, then those officials and that teacher were all selfish. Without egos or self-esteem of their own, selfish people have to feed off the feelings, especially the hurt, of others to be sustained. They suck the life from their neighbors’ egos in order to feel good about themselves. They always have to be right; they never back down unless forced to do so. I would say they are a species of emotional predator.

This sort of behavior is bad enough when encountered on the street in the driver who blocks two lanes turning left out of a parking lot or the boss who eats all the Christmas cheese ball. But when we find it in public officials and those who teach children, we need to be particularly alarmed. My tradition says that wrongs committed by those in authority are “aggravated” by their public position (see Larger Catechism Q&A 151 for a full list of such “aggravations”). Such people should be held accountable and required to make whatever reparation may be possible.

That’s my conviction.

© 2009 Tom Cheatham

PS I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if the kitty cat that little girl grieves for is even now being cared for by the Lion of Judah.

 

 

After Seeing The Bucket List

For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life?—Matthew 16:26

Speak to us once more your solemn message of life and of death. Help us to live as those who are prepared to die.
And when our days here are ended, enable us to die as those who go forth to live, so that living or dying, our life may be in Jesus Christ our risen Lord.—classic funeral prayer

My sister Carol Ann died a little over a year ago from cancer. But while she was still fighting the disease (and apparently winning), she and her husband David saw The Bucket List. She recommended it to Susan and me, and we put it in our Netflix queue, though below some others we wanted to see a bit more. The film finally made into our DVD player last week.

Directed by Rob Reiner, The Bucket List  is about two older men, Edward and Carter, who end up sharing a hospital room. Edward (Jack Nicholson) is a corporate mogul who owns the facility; Carter (Morgan Freeman) has been a mechanic for 45 years, but wanted to be a history teacher. Whatever their differences, they now share the common bond of suffering from cancer.

During their stay, the two men develop a friendship, and ultimately decide in the time they have left to do all the things they always wanted to do, but had neither the time, inclination nor money to achieve/see/enjoy. The list they follow is the titular one, with “bucket” being the proverbial object we kick when we die.

The two start out doing wild things like skydiving, driving fast cars, and globetrotting to exotic locations. But interwoven with the tale of their travels is the story of their relationships—Carter’s with his wife, to whom he is a stranger; Edward’s with his daughter, with whom he had had a falling out over some problems she experienced. And it is relationships, not doing this or that, which ultimately prove to be the most important items to attend to on the bucket list.

As they sit viewing the Great Pyramid at Giza, Carter tells Edward about the two questions that Egyptians believed they would be asked upon crossing over into the hereafter: What joy did you know in your life? What joy did you bring to others? I can think of few more profound questions to ask ourselves.

But let’s not wait till we suffer from a terminal disease or the death of a loved one brings us face to face with our own mortality. Each of us can start today to live as those prepared to die, and in so doing, truly experience the joy of living.

© 2009 Tom Cheatham

 

The Changing Unchanging Road

Keep awake, therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour (Matthew 25:13).

I travel the same road twice a week to work as an interim pastor in a town about an hour north of Starkville. Except that it’s never really the same road. One day there might be more than the usual number of 18-wheelers or I’ll see some housetrailers being hauled. Sunday might be smooth sailing or a sunny day, but Wednesday it’s pouring rain or I get behind a slowpoke on the two-lane. Of course, I never know what sort of construction there will be; on one trip the northbound left lane somewhere along the way might be closed, the next time it will be open, but something else is going on. And the wildlife is always interesting to watch for. Deer might be grazing in one of the many open fields or a hawk perched on a wire, scanning for dinner. Another time, nothing at all.

Our lives are often routine. We do the same things day after day, and maybe we complain about the lack of variety or excitement or challenge. But truth be told, like my road, no day is the same as another. Each presents its own challenges and opportunities, which sometimes are the same thing. Yes, they may be variations on a theme, but different from the day before or last week, nevertheless.

Staying alert, as Jesus advised his disciples to be, is the key. The little details in each day make it different from the one before and the one to come after. Small choices might have big consequences. And, certainly, some days turn into something that we label with a capital “D.” The transformation from routine to memorable might come unexpectedly or even be planned, but the fact that some days become Days reminds us that anytime can be the moment of transformation, the time of God’s action, the day of his coming.

© 2009 by Tom Cheatham

 

Stolen Words

Last Sunday was Evangelism Sunday across my denomination, so I preached on the theme in the church where I serve as interim pastor. In a message entitled “The ‘E” Word,” I said that we often regard “evangelism” as a dirty word, rather like those others we refer to only by their initial letters. Perhaps we do so, I observed, because we have witnessed or experienced abuse of the practice by TV preachers and cold-calling tract-readers. Or it could be we simply believe in the mainline church that religion is private, and we shouldn’t invade anyone else’s space. The point of the sermon was the recovery of the word as a good and proper one that Presbyterians could and should embrace as their calling.

After worship, a member invited me to preach a sermon sometime on “semantics,” as he put it, how some words have been taken away from us and need to be recovered. He didn’t say what particular words he had in mind, but the idea so intrigued me that I decided not to wait for an opportunity to talk about it in a sermon, but to comment here.

Three stolen words immediately came to mind: “liberal,” “conservative,” and “Christian.” All of them were once good and honorable terms. But it seems to me they have had their meaning so perverted as to render them nearly useless. They are so dependent on context and the prejudices of the speaker and/or writer that I’ve almost quit using them.

“Liberal,” for example, comes from the root “liber” (free). Specifically, it meant “suitable for a free man, a gentleman,” or something not tied to a trade, a sense that survives in “liberal arts,” which are intended for the general broadening of the mind. Another meaning has been “generous” or “abundant.” But today it’s become a filthy epithet in some quarters, associated with wastefulness or even, as in the case of actions depicted in the ACORN videos, support of morally questionable endeavors.

The same can be said of “conservative,” also once a good and commendable word or quality. To conserve is to store up, preserve, protect from harm, keep for the future. Conservative estimates are cautious and thoughtful; a conservative dresser is modest and not flashy. The term even once meant what “moderate” means now. Earlier generations were conservative when they lived within their means instead of on easy credit, when they waited for things instead of insisting on acquiring or experiencing them right now. I dare say if our nation had learned those lessons from earlier days, we wouldn’t be in the financial mess we are now, having to remember those traditional values of thrift and savings. But, as with “liberal,” “conservative” has come to be a pejorative term for some. Conservatives are depicted as mean-spirited, angry, and uniformly fundamentalist in religion.

Which brings us to the third term, “Christian.” As a minister, I’m troubled by the way this word is used today even more than the redefining of the other two terms I’ve talked about here. The original name for the Jesus movement was “the Way,” but by Acts 11:26, the followers of Jesus were being called “Christians.” What I have always heard is that the name was not chosen by the disciples, but imposed. It means “little Christs,” and was intended as a term of derision. “Look at those little Christs,” the skeptics and pagans would say. “Who do they think they are?” But the followers of Jesus accepted the name and wore it as a badge of honor, just as their Lord had accepted insults and criticism during his ministry. To use for yourself a term coined by your opposition was a way of turning the other cheek, as Jesus had taught. It was a witness to the humility and gentleness of the One crucified and risen.

But today, “Christian” has become associated almost exclusively with a particular position on certain hot button issues, like evolution or gay marriage or abortion (usually all of the above). Attempts at pointing out that there is more than one “Christian” perspective on some issue are either drowned out by angry voices or else ignored by the media. We favor simplistic, sit-com answers, and are impatient with the nuanced discussion that admits more than one faithful and informed opinion.

I have all but given up on calling myself a “Christian” because of the abuse of the term these days. I prefer “believer” or “follower of Jesus.” But really in the end, what I’m called doesn’t matter as much as the way I act and the words I say. I intend for both to be faithful to my Lord, knowing that he will always be faithful to me. Others may take away and co-opt the historic term for my commitment, but they can never rob me of the presence of Jesus.

© 2009 Tom Cheatham

 

 

The Parking Pass

Renault:  And what in heaven’s name brought you to Casablanca?

Rick:       My health. I came to Casablanca for the waters.

Renault:  Waters? What waters? We’re in the desert.

Rick:       I was misinformed.

                                                                   –Casablanca, 1942

Whoever speaks the truth gives honest evidence, but a false witness speaks deceitfully. Rash words are like sword thrusts, but the tongue of the wise brings healing. Truthful lips endure forever, but a lying tongue lasts only a moment. Deceit is in the mind of those who plan evil, but those who counsel peace have joy (Proverbs 12:17-20).

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Earlier this month I came out of the Sanderson Center, the large recreational facility at MSU, and was confronted in the parking lot by a couple of young women in a golf cart who had stopped their vehicle in back on my SUV so that I couldn’t leave. “Do you have a parking pass?” the driver asked. I told her I didn’t know I had to have one, since I never did before, and no one had told me otherwise. And what’s more, the whole requirement that I had to have a pass to come work out twice a week was outrageous. None of that mattered to her; I guess she was of the “ignorance of the law is no excuse” mindset. I had to have a parking permit if I came over at least twice a week or five times a year. I knew where to get one, so the only question was how much it would cost me. “I don’t know,” she said, “but I think they’re about $100 a year.”

You can imagine that I was none too happy to hear that. I fumed most of the way back home, then got on the phone as soon as I could to the Sanderson Center membership office, to which I had already paid over $100 for a semester’s worth of visits. I happened to talk to the young man who sold me my renewal, and he confirmed that indeed I had to have a pass. When I confronted him with his failure to tell me that in the first place, he was apologetic, then let me know that the passes were only $1.00 a month. I subsequently got in touch with Parking Services, found out the guy was right, and bought a pass. Problem solved.

The whole incident and sequence of events got me thinking about how important it is to have and give accurate information. The girl in the parking cart could have and should have been briefed on what had to be a FAQ. I would have been OK with her ignorance if she had simply said “I don’t know, but Parking Services will be happy to help you.” Instead she bluffed and gave me misinformation, which brought me distress at the thought of having to spend more money.

How much customer anger, confusion, and lost business could be avoided if the people answering the phone or responding to email inquiries committed either to having ready-at-hand accurate, up-to-date information or else finding out the facts before answering a question? How much teenage fear and foolishness could be avoided if young women and men only had the facts about everything from acne to drugs to puberty to sexuality? How often could church conflicts be cooled if all sides at least agreed to a common set of facts about some hot button issue? How many reputations could have been saved if someone had refused to repeat gossip?

Of course, sometimes people intentionally spread disinformation and misinformation to promote their agendas. Pundits and bloggers do it all the time these days to fan the flames of distrust and suspicion in our society. The lies spread virally over the Internet and pretty soon, the truth is silenced. That’s not just irresponsible; it’s wrong and unethical. It’s bearing false witness. The sad thing is that it is sometimes those who shout loudly about their faith and make a show of it that are the worst offenders.

Giving a wrong answer to someone unintentionally out of ignorance isn’t sinful. But such action can nevertheless have consequences, even hurtful ones, made all the worse when the error is compounded as it is repeated over and over in conversations far removed from the original. So all of us need to make sure we commit to best practices like checking our facts with reliable sources, being cautious when we speak about subjects with which we are unfamiliar, and being willing to admit we don’t know.

As the old saying goes, it’s better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.

© 2009 Tom Cheatham

 

 

A Visit to My Alma Mater

Thirty-seven years ago, in the fall of 1972, the skinny nineteen year-old kid you see at right—me—stepped onto the campus of the University of Georgia for the first time.  I had taken no tour, asked few questions. Up to that time, I had never been away from home, not even to summer camp. I would have gone to a school only 35 miles away, instead of four hours, had not my community college advisor convinced me that maybe I needed to get out and experience the world a little.

And over the next two years I did meet a few people who were different from me. There was Charles, my assigned roommate my first year in Reed (AKA “Weed”) Hall; he was the first gay person I ever met. Then the guy who roomed with me in the basement of Reed one quarter, whose name I can’t remember, but who loved to skateboard, and had done so in Switzerland. (“Il skie sans neige!”  [“He skis without snow!”] he reported the Swiss saying of him.) He had also read Paul Tillich, of whom I had never heard. There was Katie, with whom I managed to have two dates (I was usually a one-date wonder), and who had traveled abroad also, with a symphony orchestra. She was surprised when she found out I was a Presbyterian, given my ultra-conversative theo-babble. “Presbyterian!” she exclaimed. “They’re some of the most liberal people I know.” Uh, not me, honey.

But mostly I hung out with the familiar crowd, namely conservative evangelicals, even as I felt a stirring within me to push those boundaries a bit. (Typical young adult stuff, but I considered my pushing to be sinful, given my upbringing in a fundamentalist church.) I got “strokes” from the Campus Crusade ministry I became part of, like playing guitar for worship or being part of a Peter, Paul, and Mary-ish singing group; meeting and listening to Mark Heard and Pat Terry, soon-to-be-famous “Jesus music” singers who were my classmates; and being complimented on my “boldness” against professors whom we all considered pagans who were distorting God’s Truth. Most importantly, I found friends.

What has occasioned all this nostalgia? On a recent vacation, Susan and I took a side trip to the university, only 30 miles off our route. I got to show her my old dorm (excuse me, residence hall), which had been vastly improved with a new lounge and access for students in wheelchairs. It looked so small. Reed was and is in the shadow of the stadium, which had had a good many gates and fences added. We saw Memorial Hall, where I remembered going to some Crusade events. It had been repurposed for offices. The old Union had been renovated and also augmented by a new plaza and bookstore. I became disoriented for a moment, because the shopping plaza had been built on the hill I used to walk down to get to the cafeteria, and there was nothing of the former landscape to be seen.

The memories were nice, but in the end, I was ready to come back to the present. I didn’t mind that the old landscape had changed, because that’s the nature of universities and of life, and the change seemed for the better. It was OK that buildings were repurposed, expanded or even torn down and replaced. And I was really glad not to be that skinny, shy, clueless, sheltered kid anymore.

For some, change is an enemy, if not the enemy. They try to look younger, sometimes going to great expense. They keep reliving the past, remembering those halcyon college years. They refuse to consider new ideas that challenge their established way of thinking.

I don’t like change for the sake of change, but I have been by and large glad for the changes life has brought me since college. Sometimes the lessons have been hard-learned. But if I am wiser, mellower, more tolerant, and a little more sensible, I thank God for whatever and whoever have made me that way. I like being a grown-up.

© 2009 Tom Cheatham