Wordsworth wrote an endless poem in blank verse on” the growth of a poet’s mind.”  I shall attempt a more modest feat for a more distracted age: a blog, “Things which a Lifetime of Trying to Be a Poet has Taught Me.”

We spend a second week reflecting on my experiences doing mission work in Ugandan and Kenyan villages.  I was there to bring some formal theological education to local pastors who lacked the opportunity to attend Bible school.  We would gather them to a centrally located village and spend all day for a week on methods of Bible study, hermeneutics (the science of interpretation), sermon construction, etc.    Then on Sunday I would preach in as many of their churches as I could reach so that hopefully they could see me doing what I had been telling them to do.  In the evenings there would often be an evangelistic crusade—where I would be expected to play the evangelist, even though they were more effective in that role than I am!  But there was a method to their madness.

Village Evangelism

“But I’m a teacher, not an evangelist.”

“No, the muzungu must preach at the crusade.  That way, everybody will come.”

The stars shone on the hills of Africa

And on a sea of eyes that shone in wonder

At the generator-driven cinema,

Another sky of stars that spread out under

The temporary platform we’d erected.

They’d never seen a video before.

The younger ones had never once inspected

A white man.  I can’t say which held them more

Enthralled, the flashing images or my skin.

It was the skin that made them pay attention

When, once the “Jesus” film was at an end,

I rose to preach.  And now, what new dimension,

Stranger than moving pictures on a screen

Or ghost-like skin in health by some strange art

Could possibly be waiting to be seen?

Christ crucified and raised; the human heart

Made clean.

Remember: for more poetry like this, order Dr. Williams’s collected poetry, Stars through the Clouds, 2nd edition (Lantern Hollow Press, 2020) at https://smile.amazon.com/dp/173286800X?ref_=pe_3052080_397514860!

THE LOVES OF LEARNING: Thoughts on Christian Education

This article was just published in Christian Educators Journal 51:1 (October 2011): 30-32.  Because most of you won’t be able to read it there, I share it here.

Often a chance to look back on familiar territory from an unusual angle is the source of new insights.  So it was for me when, on a recent mission trip to Africa to teach theology to untrained church leaders, I had the unexpected opportunity to speak in a couple of school assemblies.  It prodded me to think anew about Christian education from the standpoint both of the student and the teacher.

There is a poster one sees in Kenya that proclaims, “Literacy for Improved Food Production!”  I don’t doubt that improved food production is a worthy goal and that literacy can help us attain it, I told the students of St. Philip’s Secondary School in Kitale, Kenya. But there is so much more to reading than that!  Reading makes available to us three things that are much harder to access without it: the Word of God, the world of ideas, and the world of imagination.

The Word of God, recorded in the Christian Bible, contains the personal revelation of the Creator of the Universe, including His wisdom, His commandments, His love, and His plan for the salvation and eternal fulfillment of His creatures.  The world of ideas gives us the cumulative experience and thinking of the human race as it follows or rebels against the Word of God in its history, its science, its philosophy.  If nothing more, it can keep us from spending our whole lives reinventing the wheel.  The world of imagination shows us the creative stirrings of the human spirit, stimulating our own spirits to make creative applications of what we learn from Scripture, history, and science.

Any of these three worlds to which reading gives us access—Scripture, Ideas, Imagination—can expand the mind in such a way as to facilitate things yet undreamt of (including better food production).  When we combine them together, their capacity to do so is increased exponentially.  So pursue the adventure of reading with all your might, both in school and out of it!  It was Newman’s Idea of a University recycled impromptu for an African context.  And I don’t think it’s a bad exhortation for American students either.

In Africa, one never knows what is going to happen.  Your plans are rough ideas that may have little resemblance to the actual ministry opportunities that present themselves.  I was expecting (since that morning) to address the students at St. Philip’s in an assembly at the end of their school day. But after they left, I was also unexpectedly invited to address the faculty in a separate meeting as they stayed behind.

“Why are we here?” I asked them—asking myself (in a different sense) the same question.  “Why are we doing this?” I continued, as the Lord helped me see a direction in which I could profitably go.  Teaching is not just another job, something we do to put food on the table.  It’s not just a slightly more prestigious form of factory work.  Unfortunately, many African teachers (and some Americans) look at it that way.  At least the Americans are reminded every payday that they aren’t doing it primarily for the money!

So why do we teach?  Only if we have a well thought out answer to that question can we hope to foster truly transformative learning.  And the only answer that begins to be adequate is that we do it out of love.  I encouraged the Kenyan faculty actively to cultivate three passions: love of the Lord, love of their subject, and love of their students.  It is only when all three are present and intelligently integrated that transformative teaching can emerge.

Love of the Lord has to come first.  Unless it does, love of the subject will degenerate into intellectual pride and love of the students into corrupted sentimentality.  But love for the Lord comes first not for those reasons but because He is the Lord of Glory, the eternal Word of the God of Truth, and the sacrificial Savior of our souls.  We love Him not for pragmatic reasons, good and adequate though they may be, but because He first loved us and because He is simply worthy of that position in our lives.  If we cannot see this most basic of truths, what else could we possibly have to teach?  What else could we teach with any accuracy or integrity outside that most basic of contexts?  For the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, hence of learning—hence of teaching.

Love of the God of Truth leads to love of a particular area of truth, a “subject” for which we have been given aptitude and to which we have been called to devote ourselves.  We love our subject: We take deep pleasure not just in its facts but in its terminology, its methodology, its grammar or structure, its history, its lore, its heroes, its practical application, as things worthy of contemplation and pursuit for their own sake as well as the sake of their Creator and of our fellow man.  Without this love deeply ingrained in our hearts, we will never overcome the demands on our time of job and family to stay fresh in the material, keep it up to date, and impart it with enthusiasm.  We cannot impart what we do not have.  Therefore, without this love we will be able fully to impart neither learning nor the love of learning, being inevitably deficient ourselves in both.

Unfortunately, in America the pietism of some Christian schools does not sufficiently nourish this love compared to the other two.  How could a mere subject compete in our affections with God and with His children?  There are practical problems as well as ideological ones.  The economic resources and structures of the average Christian school do not sufficiently support and enable real love of the subject on a practical level, and the pietistic spirituality may even discourage it.  A deep, abiding, and practical love of the material is essential nonetheless.  All Christians are supposed to love one another; but not all are called to be teachers.  Those who are so called are called to be learners, and lovers of learning, first.

Love of the Lord and of the subject may suffice to make one a good Christian scholar; and this is a rare and excellent thing, not to be despised.  It is a necessary but not a sufficient condition of fulfilling our whole calling.  Without the third love, though, we will never be good teachers.  We must love, not just students in the abstract, but our students, the very ornery, ill prepared, inattentive, lazy, and clueless people God has sent us (along with a few delights who embody the opposite of all those more frequently encountered attributes).  We must truly love them for Jesus’ sake.  How else shall we cut through their carefully cultivated ennui to reach them with the subject we love?  Where else shall we get the combination of earnest zeal and endless patience that it takes?  And why else would we expect them to listen?

If we have these three loves, we may be called to be teachers.  If we are to be effective teachers, we must not take their continuance for granted, but rather cultivate them daily.  Life has an almost infinite capacity to dull our hearts and minds, to bury us under trivial pursuits, to confuse us with the tyranny of the urgent, to wear us down by its daily grind.  “A man, Sir,” said Dr. Johnson, “should keep his friendship in constant repair.”  It is good advice for those who would be friends of God, of learning, and of their students.  How do we do this?  We do it by being faithful in Bible study, prayer, and public worship; by scheduling time for the pursuit of our subject beyond the requirements of our lesson plans; by remembering that our students are “the least of these,” for whom our lessons should be “cups of cold water” given to Jesus Himself; by keeping our lives uncluttered by trivial concerns that sap our energy, distracting us from the loves to which we are called.  So we may love the Lord our God with all our minds, our subject as truth that manifests His glory, and our students as ourselves.

The love of God; the love of your subject; the love of your students: It is only when all three are powerfully present and intelligently integrated that transformative teaching can emerge.  May the God of Truth and of Love make it so in our lives, to the glory of His Son!  Amen.

Donald T. Williams, PhD, is R. A. Forrest Scholar and professor of English at Toccoa Falls College in the hills of NE Georgia.  An ordained minister with many years of pastoral experience, he has spent several summers training local pastors in East Africa for Church Planting International.  His most recent books include Mere Humanity: Chesterton, Lewis, and Tolkien on the Human Condition (Broadman, 2006); Credo: Meditations on the Nicene Creed (Chalice, 2007); The Devil’s Dictionary of the Christian Faith (Chalice, 2008); and Stars Through the Clouds: The Collected Poetry of Donald T. Williams (Lynchburg: Lantern Hollow Press, 2011).  Material on literature, theology, the inklings, and apologetics can be found at his website, http://doulomen.tripod.com.  He blogs at journalformalpoetry.com and http://www.lanternhollowpress.com.

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