Caregivers of the Dead

     A short while ago, I responded (with my FD crew) to one of the more gruesome motor vehicle fatalities I’ve seen so far in my time as a fire department chaplain. Sure I’ve seen dead bodies before, but not so many that I’ve “gotten used to it.” This one stuck with me for several reasons, mostly due to the time it took to free the victim from the vehicle. Three hours is a long time to stand around in the Florida heat while a deceased human is slowly extricated from an overturned van.    

     Such times can test your internal constitution, and reveal your capacity to stay focused on the job you need to perform. For me as a chaplain, my job has many layers, most of which are intangible. There can be specific functions to the role, but most often my job is to be randomly encouraging with reassuring smiles, human contact, and what is called “the ministry of presence.” So being “present” for my Seminole County fire crew, the Seminole County Sheriff’s deputies and Florida Highway Patrolmen on scene was really what was on my mind.

     That changed, though, when another team arrived on the scene with whom I had not interacted before: the medical examiner and coroner. I was struck by the meticulous detail the M.E. had to document concerning the entire scene, the apparent cause of death, and even the body itself. Photographs were taken from every angle so as to preserve each view of the vehicle and the deceased. Her singular focus was that of capturing every relevant detail so that the story of the victim’s death could accurately be told. Who would later need that story to be told correctly? The victim’s family? Law enforcement? A jury? The M.E. carries a tremendous responsibility reporting to the living how a soul left this Earth; a story that will have a far-reaching impact, and that will endure through all the generations of the victim’s progeny.

     Another “caregiver of the dead” that gave me pause, however, was the man from the coroner’s office whose role was to transport the deceased away. I imagine that such a profession could become taxing. It’s never your job to transport the living or be involved in their rescue. No…all of your “clients” are dead. Your passengers, whether meeting their demise in peaceful or violent fashion, calmly or through much suffering, all have the same state of lifelessness. These keepers of the dead bear a burden which most are uncomfortable discussing. In film (especially westerns) they are portrayed as macabre characters all clad in black, randomly approaching the stranger in town with a tape measure so as to get a head start on building their coffin. They’re never featured as the happy individual with a normal family, a burgeoning romance, and a network of friends they meet down at the pub. We don’t like thinking about the dead, so we imagine their caregivers as someone we’d rather not be. This is very unfortunate.

     I must confess that I, myself, have been guilty of the above misconception before…that is until this encounter. As I observed the gentle care and attention to dignity shown for the dead by this man, I felt myself developing an entirely different view. With great personal alarm I realized how under-appreciated he has been, and others like him with the same job. My great hope is that I was able to be of some encouragement to him on the spot, for it was in the flashing minutes of standing there in the middle of the road that the epiphany of his necessity struck me. Flooding my mind was all the Biblical references to his role that I had read before, and the great need for his role across cultures.

     To some it might have seemed odd that I wanted to help him carry the body to his vehicle, but to me it had suddenly become a great privilege to assist him in any way. Overwhelmed with this new revelation, I wrote the following Prayer for the Coroner (shown below):

Our Father in heaven…

Who gave to our forefather, Joseph,
    faithful brothers that would carry his body
    to his final resting place in the Promised Land;
Who inspired women to care for the body of our Lord
    before He rose from the dead,
Grant, we ask, your Grace upon those that,
    with gentle care and respect for the departed,
    transport the earthly remains of those that have died
    as such souls leave for their heavenly journey.
Comfort those who must examine and report
    on the remains of people now gone
    in order to tell the story of their passing,
    that the living will know the truth how the deceased left this world.
By Your Spirit, remind these workers of respect for the dead
    of the great importance of their profession,
    and fill them with assurance that their example
    inspires the respect and reverence of others as well.
These things we ask on account of Him who first revealed his Resurrection
    to those who came to care for his body, Jesus Christ our Lord.       

Amen.

    Hopefully we all are able to better appreciate what these people do for us. When the dead leave us behind, our mourning process is facilitated by a chain of dedicated individuals that must care for our deceased loved one along the way; from the M.E. and coroner, to the funeral staff and even those that carry out what is done with remains (burial digging, cremation technician, etc.). Care for the dead is one of those bedrock practices that makes us human, separating us from animals and revealing culture in the archaeological record. Let us show our appreciation for these “caregivers of the dead” and consider the great calling they carry for our benefit.

Houston Spartan Race SPRINT Review

     Imagine my surprise when, following past race reviews, others would be sought by my peers. Obstacle Course Racing (OCR) has been a passion of mine since first discovering it in 2012. That was the year that my yearnings for athletic activities looked beyond the normal local 5K race for charity, and sought to interject a sense of adventure. A banner ad at the time intrigued me, which included a self-playing video clip of OCR legend Hobie Call jumping over fire, followed by the caption "Could a race change your life?" That was enough. I was instantly hooked as a "Spartan" and didn't even realize it. Spartan Race quickly became the go-to focus of a family wanting to increase our list of camaraderie and character building activities. We volunteered at the BEAST in Glen Rose, TX that year so as to earn our race registration for the following May where a SPRINT would be held in Burnet, TX. Our first exposure to Spartan Race was as volunteers, only later to actually run the course and fully understand how appropriate our passion had been. 

     That first race also introduced us to the larger world of OCR, the culture, personalities and ethos of it. In 2014-2015 we had opportunities to participate in several OCRs other than Spartan Race. I will tell you that our experiences with those OCR companies have left me quite content to simply fill my race calendar with Spartan races, unmotivated to attempt fitting others in. Either those others were in some way quite disappointing, or merely not spectacular enough to attempt fitting them in around the SRs that I already know I'll want to do. If it seems that my reviews are not entirely objective, at least I've disclosed my rationale. 

My race evaluation has come to include five categories of significance to me. The list is, of course, open to expansion, but these have been key areas according to my experience. The list described below is pasted from an earlier review: 

"Our evaluation score is based upon five categories or experience that we comment on to each other as we work as volunteers, run as racers together, and then later debrief about after the event. These five categories are:

• Staff - Were the event staff friendly, professional and patient? Were they accommodating of needs for water, food or bathroom breaks? Did they make an effort to help us volunteer together? At registration, were they warm, welcoming and organized?

• Logistics -  Did the event seem organized and well thought-out? Were sufficient materials brought to meet the attendance demand? How well were staff supplied with materials to perform their tasks (shirts, medals, radios, water, etc.)?

• Obstacles - Were they well-constructed? Did they offer an athletic challenge? Did they need explanation or were they self-explanatory? Was there a penalty for failing the obstacle? Was it also safe while being difficult?

• Trail - Was the course designed for a decent trail run? Did the outside venue (ranch, field, stadium, etc.) allow for the run itself to be part of the challenge with topographic variety (hills, canyons and plains)? 

• Festival area - Was the atmosphere electric and exciting? Were examples of obstacles constructed for contests and practice? Were exhibits, vendors, restrooms, showers, start and finish lines laid out in a sensible way? Were start and finish line experiences exciting and satisfying

On each of the above categories we offer 0-20 points, resulting in an accumulated score out of 100 points (making a letter grade easy to calculate)."

     For the Houston Spartan Race SPRINT, we volunteered in the morning and raced in the afternoon after having been relieved of our duties at the end of our shift. This has largely been our repeated custom from the beginning. The result has been that at any given OCR, we get the perspective of a worker for the event before we are a participant. For the Houston Spartan SPRINT, I score each category below:

Staff - While I've yet to have a negative experience with Spartan Race staff, some races stand out more than others in terms of staff care. For the Houston SPRINT, not only were they their usual professional, gracious and helpful selves, but they did so in the face of unexpectedly challenging conditions. For several days before the race, heavy rains had soaked the race venue, leaving the planned parking area unworkable. Thus at the last minute, a new location was selected, and school buses were contracted to shuttle racers from the new site to the festival area. These logistical obstacles faced the staff mere hours before race day, yet not a single attitude was out of sorts as droves of participants and volunteers showed up late because of the changes they also were having to adjust to as well. Volunteer registration was relatively smooth despite the changes that had been foisted open the process. 

     I'll admit to being at somewhat of an advantage for having volunteered so often that, without much direction, those with me and I were able to march purposefully to our assigned area and begin working, meeting our staff contact at the finish line, without any other assistance. At the finish line, our staff contact moved about regularly to make sure people drank water, had the necessary snacks, and felt freedom to check out other areas when heavy waves of finishers weren't keeping us busy. When our volunteer shift came to a close, the staff member did not need to be reminded to relieve us. They were on top of it, and we were released with plenty of time to prepare for our own race. Staff Score: 20 points

Logistics - As was mentioned above, heavy rains had required a last minute, major shift in racer/volunteer entrance to the venue. Spartan Race sent out an email alerting of the change, and out party was able to adjust accordingly. We parked where instructed. The school buses that had been procured were not on scene at the announced time though, allowing some lag time for a considerable crowd of people waiting at the new parking location. Nevertheless, the buses did arrive in force and shuttle services remained steady after that. To describe the race venue (Lazy W Ranch in Hempstead, TX) as "muddy" from all the rain is an exercise in understatement. In many respects, this was an enhancement, but that will be described later. In terms of working the race, tables sank and threatened to topple supplies, with considerable ponds of standing water where venue traffic areas might have otherwise allowed people to congregate. 

     Photography continues to be an area where hiccups can arise. Because timing pads are sometimes situated distant from an auto-camera location, finding one's self in the repository of action shots can be challenging. Finding photos actually tagged to your timing chip is hit-or-miss. I found all of mine, and those my companions, by scrolling through every single picture time-stamped between our start and finish times. Another trade arises in the presence and skill of photographers. Without them, auto-cameras (such as GoPro), do not know to turn and snap a shot of each racer in a pack of friends. Thus actions shots are missing for some racers when a herd of muddy participants stampede across the timing pad or by the GoPro station. I understand its a trade though, for hiring more photographers costs money, and some find registration costs already eyebrow-raising. However, concerning photographers, it often appears that photographers that are hired have a time limit themselves. More abundant, and more detailed pictures can be found for racers earlier in the day. This is not merely for elite racers; open heats starting before noon have a greater collection of action shots than those starting later (oh say, in a volunteer's heat). The photographers leave before all racers have passed their area. This is just my perception. Logistics Score: 17 points

Obstacles - By far the greatest obstacle of this race was the mud. In this way, the open heat racers can boast a greater toughness and grit than any of the elites that finished this SPRINT in less than an hour. Yes, the elite racers had some mud and water with which to contend, but they certainly did NOT struggle against 4.2 miles of earthen purgatory affixing itself to one's body like an animated horde of demons from the mythic underworld. The barely viscous and unholy sludge ranged from ankle to waist deep for most of the course. This would be exhausting enough, but it also made each obstacle 143% more difficult. I have never struggled to get over 8ft walls before (with the exception of the BEAST in Glen Rose last Oct which had similar ground conditions), but in this case the ground would simply not release my feet. Teamwork was an absolute requirement. The teams might have been pre-planned by friends racing together, or the team may have been spontaneous as Spartans stopped to assist one another, but only teams could overcome these walls once the ground began to deny any jumping whatsoever. 

    The mud enhanced some obstacles to make them more of a challenge than ever before. In previous races, nailing the spear throw was aided by taking a few steps for momentum. The mud disallowed that. Fortunately, I still got it, but it required a different throwing strategy and the collection of burpee penitents nearby was greater than normal. Sand bag carry, gravel buckets, and the atlas carry all were transformed into something far more epic and daunting. There were no particularly noteworthy obstacles that differed form what has become standard for Spartan Races. There's a comfort in knowing that I've become familiar with these varying tests of skill, strength and endurance. Without the mud though, this might have been a rather unremarkable event (within the normal range of Spartan Race; which is itself excellent, challenging and fun). For my part, I failed at just one obstacle. At the end, the multi-rig assembly of bars, rings and ropes created a large burpee corral that needed wide expansion after racers began bunching up there. The multi-rig continues to be the "Bane" of my existence; and I WILL conquer it! Perhaps if it was near the front, like the monkey bars were, but instead it was at the end, after the mud demons has sapped all of the energy away. The obstacles were within normal range, not particularly creative; however, they do get a boost from the mud enhancement.  Obstacles Score: 18 points

Trail - Even more so than the obstacles, the trail benefitted from the advent of the apocalyptic mud in our score. Without it, the course would have been topographically underwhelming. I'm simply not used to a Spartan Race lacking any hills. Previous SRs for me have been in either the Texas hill country or the Sierra-Nevada near Lake Tahoe. I'm used to shouting my "AROO!" as a means of encouraging others trudging up a woeful incline, or in denial about my own exhaustion. This course's trail contained no such elevation changes. Were I among the elite racers, I might have been wondered what all the fuss was about, but after it had been pulverized by several thousand racers into moon dust (just add water!), the trail became a living thing bent on resisting your progress. Don't miss understand! The trail was beautiful, the ranch picturesque in many places and the water obstacles a joy, but the mud adds approximately 5 points to the overall level of satisfying difficultly, which Spartan Race could not have anticipated...Unless of course we include God among the Spartan staff performing course design. Trail Score: 18 points

Festival Area - As with the rest of the course, the mud was the star of the show. Imagine a rodeo arena being doused with six inches of water, then thoroughly tenderized with horses and cattle, then add some low depressions that fill up to create inconvenient lakes. None of this was the fault of Spartan Race, however it created a complete lack of anywhere to set your gear down or rest in the festival area. Seating has always been at a premium at OCRs of all types, but this was exceptional. A couple more hay bales here and there might have helped, or perhaps some plywood laid down for major foot traffic routes. Admittedly, those are my "armchair" suggestions, not fully appreciating what goes into those tasks. But enough about the mud already!

     The layout of the festival area was well planned. "Spartan Rigs" had practice obstacles for warming up or even competing for a free future race. All the booths and merchandising were well placed. There were adequate restrooms, and I experienced no lines or gross lack of maintenance for them. At other races, the "showers" (water pumped through hoses and nozzles) have suffered from intermittent pump operation, sometimes losing water pressure or stopping altogether; not so here. The equipment was well attended and no hiccups occurred. The D.J. kept the music upbeat and constant, and even made the announcement at one point that a dog had been left in a car and law enforcement was about to break into the car if the owner didn't see to it soon. Staff were ubiquitous and helpful in the festival area. It just took 10 minutes to walk from one end to the other because of the mud. 

     The announcing was adequate, but unremarkable. Previous announcers have created such an air of electricity and excitement at the starting line that you truly felt immersed in the adventure you were about to begin. I understand that some up and coming announcers need to be given a chance to really get into their groove, but there's a certain amount of talent for it that comes into play also. With examples like Dustin Dorough of Spartan Race, or Dewayne Anderson of Battle Frog Series, having raised the bar so high, OCRs do well to keep announcing as something they look to maintain high standards for in talent, excitement, charisma and delivery. Some have even suggested this deserves it's own category in OCR reviews. I'm not sure of that. For now I'll leave it as part of festival because start/finish line experiences are part of it. 

     To balance that out...finish line experience doesn't have announcing; it has fire. The fire jump is the last obstacle to overcome (it used to be gladiators in SR's early days) before the finish line. It contributes most to the excitement before getting the medal around your neck and completing the day's epic struggle. Note to Spartan Race: PLEASE don't let the fire die down! Depending on how often the staff stoked the fire jump, some racers leapt over glorious, Michael Bay sized flames, while others just had to skip over some smoldering coals. This affects both the excitement of the finish and the brag-worthy photos people want to make their Facebook profile pic later on as well. Festival Score: 17

     With an overall score of 90, this places the Houston Spartan Race SPRINT in the A-/B+ range, depending on how you divide the letter grades. I try to be objective, but admittedly Spartan Race is also like "family" after a fashion, and it's tough to critique "family." Nevertheless, because I'm so fond of Spartan Race, I'll share ways that possibly they could be even better. If you don't have that connection, you won't say anything; you'll just go somewhere else, claiming the "grass was greener" at the other race. Every Spartan Race is different, and I have no doubt that some of these challenges were unique to this venue and weather conditions. Having said all that, Spartan Race's strengths are very well executed, and I'm looking forward to many more. 

Why I race...

As someone that is not an "athlete," doing things considered very athletic would seem out of the norm. Oh yes, I've had hobbies that have taken me outside into the mountains. I've enjoyed mountaineering (when I lived near mountains), which included hiking, rock climbing and camping (often in the snow). Many considered this exceptional, but it was not "athletic" as much as it was adventurous. I've enjoyed swimming all my life, riding bicycles and just about anything else that was a fun and rigorous activity that took me out into nature (including skiing and kayaking). These also, though indicative of an "active lifestyle, " do not make one an "athlete." I've known many that are serious athletes, and I've revered them for their discipline, their drive, focus and the results of being able to perform such incredible physical feats.

So then, the decision to engage in such an "athletic" enterprise as the Spartan Race is seemingly a step up from dabbling in just being an "active person." After all, there are plenty of fun opportunities, in the marketplace of activities now, to merely get muddy while trampling along a trail with friends headed to the beer-flowing party at the end. Why the decision to test myself with a race that, though also fun, enjoyable and "family friendly," is also a seriously athletic event that requires significant training in advance? Why engage in a race that required lifestyle changes and discipline I had not previously maintained? Why voluntarily sign up for something that mandated so much transformation?

Spartan Race offers a wide variety of races to participate in...

 

The Spartan "Sprint" is a race billed as "3+ miles with 15+ obstacles." The "+" is an important caveat because each course is custom designed. Thus, the "+" could mean a few more miles AND many more obstacles. You never know what you're going to get (*says in Forrest Gump voice*).

The "Super" Spartan is advertised as "8+ miles with 20+ obstacles," and the Spartan "Beast" being "12+ miles with 25+ obstacles." The Sprint is an athletic event in itself, but is also designed to be the most accessible of their races, wherein a person could enter who had never gotten off the couch before. The Super is where it starts requiring some training in advance in order to have an enjoyable experience, rather than a miserable one. The Beast is a half-marathon in length, but the inclusion of the obstacles make it, according to the testimony of some athletes, more difficult than a normal marathon (which I have never considered trying). As seen from the graphic above, the events that Spartan Race conducts go well beyond the Beast. Nevertheless, to set a goal for achieving the "Trifecta" (completing the first three - Sprint, Super and Beast - in a calendar year), is by far a more athletic pursuit that I have ever considered before...

...yet that is exactly what I am attempting in 2014 (the Spartan Beast is on November 1st)!

Spartan Race (and admittedly other race companies has risen up attempting to duplicate this function) has provided an activity that challenges many to push themselves beyond where they have been before. However, I have found, along with multitudes of others, that these races are indicated of more than merely physical struggles. They wind up being a physical, athletic analogy of other "obstacles" in life that must be overcome as well. 

The opening line of their promotion video is "Could a race change your life?" One might not think so, but an unexpected internal event occurs on the course. Suddenly what started out as a fun idea for the day turns into a test of will, and a nexus of mental, spiritual and emotional struggles. It demonstrates the folly of the ancient gnostic heresy that sought to separate body and spirit (it lingers on today in many forms). We are integrated complexities of matter and energy that cannot be separated even at death (thus the Christian doctrine of resurrection). Disciplines of the body cannot help but have a corresponding affect on the soul. The religious practice of fasting is an example of this. Several Biblical passages either elude to this or downright proclaim the connection.  The apostle Paul says "Instead I subdue my body and make it my slave, so that after preaching to others I myself will not be disqualified" (1 Cor 9:27). The classic spiritual disciplines have all had this as their motive. Training of the soul via discipline of the body. The connection is inescapable. Does this mean that all who discipline the body are spiritual growing? Not at all. But the connection is such that seldom do people find internal development that was not manifested externally also.

Classic spiritual disciplines have included both abstaining and engaging disciplines; meaning that one either abstains from an activity as their discipline (fasting), or engages in an activity (study/meditation) as their regimen. In most cases, it's a choice that involves activities of the body, and comprises actions of will, speech, choice, appetite, rigor and difficulty. Many perform these spiritual disciplines with full expectation that they will be changed as a result of it.

"Could a race change your life?" Those that understand and appreciate spiritual disciplines would answer in the resoundingly affirmative. For in training for the race, decisions are made regarding schedule, exercise and motivation that disciplines life and brings it into an order that might not have otherwise occurred. Encouragement and accountability is sought from other racers to prepare well and plan to gather for the event. The race itself brings all of this together, serving as a living analogy for struggles and trials faced in other categories of life.

Why do I race? Because of all of the other aspects of life that benefit from the decision to struggle and emerge. Because the discipline of it that hones the senses and sharpens the spirit. Because of the camaraderie among those racing for the same reasons. Because of the spontaneous moments of community evident on the course when people help and encourage each other. Because of the accomplishment of attempting and achieving something out of the norm. Because even training for it develops a fitness level, with the accompanying positive health benefits, that seemed out of reach before now. Because I believe that, were the apostle Paul writing much of the New Testament today, he would have used these races as analogies to make his point in at least a few places (along with the other sports, gladiatorial and military analogies he used). Because the course is all a physical, spiritual and mental challenge all put together. Because being "Spartan" has taken on meaning that applies to myriad struggles off the course as well.

Certainly this is not why everyone does it, but it's why I race.

On the Entertainment Value of a First Bird Hunt

Recently I was privileged to have my first experience hunting waterfowl. Rather unfairly, I had previously not thought of it as “hunting” simply because of the size of the game (does size really matter?), being smaller than the deer or elk I had stalked years ago. For this reason, I’d often been puzzled by the plethora of bird hunting gear available in rows and rows of merchandise at the local sporting goods store. I noticed it, but pretty much walked past it, thinking it a strange and bewildering set of tools for some other mysterious pastime other than “hunting.” I now no longer think this, having seen all of this equipment in action.

The hunting area was surprisingly close to the city, approximately an hour’s drive away from the metropolitan area. Several men lease the rights to hunt birds there from the land owner, and I was the guest of one of those lease participants (a generous man that I know from church). When we arrived at the hunting “lodge” (some sturdy structures with a deck that really seem to take the "roughing it" edge out of hunting), I was struck by how quiet and peaceful it was there. The meadows stretched off in each direction, punctuated by ponds that geese and ducks had collected on. From this distance I could see several permanent “blinds” that had been constructed to hide hunters from birds’ on “final approach to runway 35R.”

Without hesitation, each hunter fanned out in different directions to place themselves in an advantageous shooting position. As I had never done this before, I assumed one should walk toward the animals, weapon at the ready. It wasn’t long before a pair of geese flew toward me from the nearby pond, emitting their familiar honks. Elated over the opportunity to “bag” my first birds ever, I drew up and fired twice with precise and confident targeting...to no avail. For some reason, I must have mistakenly thought I was shooting my rifle for a moment. BB’s just don’t fly that high into the air. After both misses, I lowered my shotgun back down to my side, knowing there was no way to hide the embarrassment of having created the noise, but will have nothing to carry back to the lodge to show for it. When the exact same sequence played itself out not ten minutes later, I finally was able to decipher what the goose’s honks actually meant; the rough translation being - “I’m out of range, ‘ya stupid fool!” (Why they sounded French, I have no idea).

For the evening, I was soothed by the whistling breeze and silent fields. This is, until the hosted turned on the television to watch the football game. Blasphemy! A TV at camp? Where am I, Mars? The food was plentiful and so was the booze. All eventually migrated to our respective sleeping bags, dismayed at how soon we’d have to wake up for the morning hunt. Fortunately, I was able to get sound asleep before the real snorers hit the sack (in truth, I have no idea whether any snored; I was sleeping too hard).

Now I must tell you... at 0500 the alarm sound was particularly rude. Arising without fanfare, we sauntered out into the black of the morning darkness carrying bags of goose decoys along with our guns. My host was adorned with a collection of goose calls around his neck, resembling the bone necklace of some Indonesian shaman. I noted secretly how we might soon reverse evolution when all the gear slung around our necks no longer allows us to walk upright. We set out the decoys so as to resemble a brood of geese that had found a random place to “safely” congregate. How should geese look in their staff meeting, anyway? Is there a moderator? Who is running the PowerPoint slides? That seemed to over-think it. So I arranged my geese decoys to appear deep in concentration during a competitive, high stakes, Texas Hold’em poker tournament.

Finding tall grass to sleep...um...I mean... “watch vigilantly” for incoming game in, I sat comfortably as dawn approached. The fog was thick enough, as the sun rose, that the goose honking I heard all around seemed to come from no direction in particular. Eventually the sky cleared slightly and we could see what was flying. Most abundant, and flying rather low, were the species of geese who’s last season day to shoot them had been the day before. Clearly they are better at circulating important memos than my company is. It was plain that these Speckle-bellied geese had checked the calendar and now intended to mock us in unison. In addition, the geese that were in season that day had read the specifications of my firearm and knew it’s effective range (apparently better than I did, according to the previous days results), flying just close enough to be snide in their taunts. Nothing tarnishes a morning like having a bird flip you the middle feather.

The goal was, using his goose calls, for my host to call these geese over to where our decoys were holding their union leadership elections. He was setup in tall grass about 100 yards away from me (or “far enough away so that if we accidentally shoot at each other, it won’t hurt.”), and I could hear him use those calls with their various sounds. They nearly diverted the course of two geese at one point, but then the birds turned and flew away when they spotted the “Remington” logo on my camouflage ball cap (darn corporate brand logos!). When a diverse flock of geese flew over the field, I heard him cycle through all the calls whistles around his neck. “What respiratory discipline it must take to use all those in quick succession,” I thought, “without wheezing.” When none of the geese banked toward our artificial goose block party, I felt sorry for him. “Sheesh!” I silently mused, “all that and no one answered him? Surely SOMEone will respond to all that effort.”... mmmMMMMMOOOOOooo, answered the cows from the other side of the canal. It was difficult to watch for birds after that with the tears fogging up my vision.

With nothing to show for our morning efforts, we walked back to the lodge to confess our “wild goose chase” (is that where that phrase comes from?). Lunchtime was spent firmly establishing and ascribing fault to all the various other factors unrelated to our hunting prowess. When full bellies became convinced it was time to head home, we began to pack up the gear. I asked if there was still time for me to walk down to the pond and examine the legendary, plush blinds that had been built near the water. Being assured there was time enough for this brief hike, I walked down along the fence line, carrying my shotgun with me (of course). The ponds were devoid of any birds and there was no expectation of seeing any fly over. I merely wanted to see for myself these hiding places that rivaled most ten year olds boys tree forts (“Blind 2 has an espresso machine, blind 3 has the hot tub, but blind 4 has the whiskey...” I was told).

Exactly as you wouldn’t expect, my short trek spooked up two geese hiding in the tall grass and I shot them both as they attempted to fly away. Walking back to the lodge, my hunting companions celebrated with me in the sight of carrying my prizes. It was my first time to bird hunt and, while I didn’t expect to do very well, I didn’t want to come up blank either. A bird processing facility, on the way home, reduced the creatures down to their respective meats that will make an honored contribution to our meals at home. I’ve spoken before about the important connection made between quarry and feast, and the blessings of responsibly participating the ecological life-cycle of legal game. For game birds, this was my first time. It bore fruit, and I’m looking forward to the next opportunity.

Being a guest to a generous host, I have no expectation of a return trip to this particular property. However, the whole experience was reminiscent enough of the outings with my father growing up wherein prayer and ubiquitous lessons concerning God and his creations set the tone for the entire hunt, that I feel a great motivation to seek opportunities to take my boys out for such an event. Bird hunting, like other hunting forms, has the potential to hold all those wonderful principles I learned from my father, and convey them to my boys in the process as well.

The Line of My People

Lo, there do I see my father...
Lo, there do I see my mother and my sisters and my brothers...
Lo, there do I see the line of my people, back to the beginning...
Lo, they do call to me. They bid me take my place among them...
...in the halls of Valhalla where the brave may live forever.

This is the dying confession of the Vikings in the above movie clip from "The 13th Warrior." It appears loosely based on (if internet sources are to be trusted) an ancient "Viking Death Prayer" dating to well into the first millennium A.D. In the context of that story, it is prayed just before the one praying is expecting to die any moment and enter the afterlife. Many cultures have this custom of preparing themselves for death, reflecting on being "gathered to one's fathers" in the moment before leaving this life and taking that "journey" into the next one. No doubt Muslims, Jews and other major religions of the world all have such an incantation. Certainly a Christian would naturally recite The Lord's Prayer or perhaps Psalm 23 in that final moment. Nevertheless, something should be on the tip of the tongue at that moment to remember one's belief and what you expect to behold when your eyes close for the final time.

The "Death Prayer" in the clip above is highly instructive on a number of levels. Among the chief lessons that should be gleaned, though, is found in line three: "Lo, there do I see the line of my people, back to the beginning." It has become such a maxim that this truth runs nearly uncontested: rugged individualism is killing Christianity in the West. Individualism has become religiously syncretized with Christianity to the point that when someone is asked to give their "testimony" of converting to Christ, they typically speak only of their own religious decision and conversion, leaving out the familial context into which they were born. The instinct to tie one's self with the family line that has come before is so conspicuously absent that missiologists note with regret that even in churches the difference in greeting stands in contrast to the rest of the world (Inside the U.S.: "Hi. What's your name?...What do you do?" contrasted with outside the U.S.: "Hello. What's your name?...Who is your father?"). To combat this tendency it is necessary to remind people just how "tribal" or "communal" Christianity is meant to be.

This concept is ubiquitous throughout both the Old and New Testaments of the Bible. Specifically, our focus in class recently was on the genealogical record of 1 Chronicles chapters 1-9. For some, reading through this record can become cumbersome, labored and even curing insomnia in some cases as people pass out. This is unfortunate since this record, and others like it in Holy Scripture, is so important for the reader within the faith community to identify with the ancestral story. One did not simply arrive into life with the LORD on their own. There is a tribal tale to tell regarding God's history with "your people." Over and over again God speaks to the people of Israel with the opening reminder, "I am the LORD your God that brought you out of the land of Egypt..." Communal history and personal identity are inextricably linked.

For this reason, the ancestry of faith becomes the most important story one can know and tell. It is because the ancestry of faith trumps all others that it's such an important source of identity. Even Jesus listed his "mother and brothers" as those "who hear the word of God and do it" (Matt 12; Mark 3; Lk 8). So "the line of my people, back to the beginning" is the ancestry of faith for as long as God has been relating to people, holding them covenantally close to himself as a Father holds his children. This "line" is also reflected in how authority in the Church is passed down. The paradigm of "Apostolic succession" for bishops serves as a central uniting strand in "the line of my people." Quite literally, when a bishop can trace his successive "line" back to the Apostles it offers a powerful visual image of "the line of my people" because it truly is laid out on a chart, tracing this "line" back through the centuries.

In like manner, in worship the congregation joins with all that have come before in lifting our hearts up unto the Lord. This communal/tribal sense of worship is reflected as the liturgy confesses "Therefore with angels and archangels, and with all the company of Heaven, we laud and magnify Thy glorious name, evermore praising thee and saying, HOLY, HOLY, HOLY, Lord God of hosts, Heaven and earth are full of thy glory: Glory be to thee, O Lord Most High. Amen" (emphasis added). Thus even in the the process of worship, we rightly can say, "Lo, there do I see the line of my people, back to the beginning." Any given Sunday is a tribal exercise wherein our individualism can be shed, confessing that we, along with the whole ancestry of faith, will "dwell in the house of the LORD forever" (Psalm 23:6).

For me, one aspect of a Holy Communion service that feels truly "tribal" (or almost "Viking") is the recitation of the Nicene Creed. In reciting it together as a congregation, we confess the same faith as did "the line of my people, back to the beginning." The Church is "the line of my people." But not merely them, for ancient Israel also worshiped the only God who IS until he was revealed in the person of Jesus Christ. So "the line of my people" truly does extend "back to the beginning." There is ONE God and he only ever has ONE people for himself that are charged to reveal him to the world; and since the Church as become what ancient Israel used to be, that ONE people is "the line of my people, back to the beginning."

I can see "the line of my people" in Christian icons, in artwork of the ancient Church, in frescoes and wood carvings. I can see them in the heroic tales of the Reformation or in the succession of bishops in the first millennium. I can see them in the Acts of the Apostles authored by Luke, or the genealogical record of Christ authored by Matthew. The line of my people extends back through English reforms of Thomas Cranmer, the translation works of William Tyndale or the Bohemian John Huss. This line reaches back through the missionary exploits of Saint Patrick or the persecutions of Diocletian. This line spans the globe and includes churches on every continent and throughout time, from Tokyo to Antioch, from Philadelphia to Alexandria. It runs across north Africa and through the Scandinavian fjords. It navigates around the British Isles and under the Cape of Good Hope. This line runs through the great ecumenical councils of Nicaea and Chalcedon. "Lo, there do I see the line of my people..." of all tribes, tongues and nations that at are my fathers, my mothers, my sisters and my brothers though faith in the Lord Jesus Christ "...back to the beginning."

"Lo, they do call to me..." from around the throne of he that was worthy to receive and open the scroll by purchasing for himself a people with his own blood. "They bid me take my place among them..." worshiping with angels and archangels, hearts lifted up unto the Lord. Because the Lord is our Shepherd, we will dwell in the house of the Lord... forever. Amen.

Wisdom plays "Hard to Get"

The wisdom literature of the Bible pictures "Wisdom" as being like a virtuous, yet attractive woman that any red-blooded male should pursue with reckless abandon. She simultaneously both calls out in the street so as to be found and remains hard to find among a thousand. All at once she's the picture of every desire and yet stands in stark contrast to the "easy" slut. She speaks truth that convicts the conscience, yet clearly differs from the contentious nag. She's feminine, but not sultry; romantic, but not trashy; dignified, but not snobby; knowledgable, but not a "know-it-all;" sophisticated, but not "stuck up;" relatable, but not simple; devout, but not judgmental.

Wisdom is the ideal "woman" to pursue above all others.

Yet she is a mysterious and demanding maiden/matriarch. When asked for a date, she may turn down the first, second or even third attempts, yet seems eager to reward the determined "suitor." Casual "come-ons" will be turned down flat, but even the slightest interest shown in sincerity finds an enthusiastic dinner date. Wisdom is tough to figure out. She doesn't conform to most formulas men try to construct. The buttons we push that seemingly work for "wooing" her today may be met with a cold shoulder tomorrow. She's a tough nut to crack.

For this reason, many in our society often abandon the pursuit. Wisdom may stand on the street corner and rightly declare herself the only woman worth your time, but most still choose to wander away dejected because they couldn't figure her out. Saddened that they give up so easily, she entreats, "I'm not difficult... just more complex than the 'Barbie Dolls' you've been dating up to now." Nevertheless, for many, courting a woman of this quality, this renown, this beautiful, this articulate, this industrious, this virtuous and this devout is just too hard for them. They settle for something less, convincing themselves over time that they're happy with what they got.

All around me I see evidence that Wisdom has been bypassed. In political circles, the insights of the country's Founders is ignored in favor of present popular feelings. In relational circles, timeless principles of marriage are ignored in favor of fleeting individual desires. In religious circles, sound principles regarding life's diverse nuances are eclipsed by a simplistic list of arbitrary rules. Those who cannot tell the difference between the negative of 'situational ethics' and the positive of 'firm ethics applied according to the situation' reveal that "Wisdom" was just too intimidating to ask to the prom.

In our own home, people ask what 'method' we have employed in rearing our children. At this point in their life, our children's behavior is pleasing enough that this question arises frequently (Yes, we know this could change anytime; but up to now, they're pretty descent people). It's an awkward question to answer though, because we have never employed a 'system.' Classes for "Love and Logic," "Basic Youth Conflicts" or "Growing Kid's God's Way" never had any appeal to us. Instead, upon learning our first child was fast approaching, we prayed for wisdom; that 'she' would help us observe our children closely, interpret their needs and apply ourselves accordingly; that 'she' would grant us insight regarding those moments with our kids that the other 'systems' will never address or even think to teach about; that 'she' would remain in our home and perform her work shaping my wife and I as she supervised our kids' development. We courted "Wisdom" instead of dating lesser "tarts" of rules, lists and behavioral 'laws' not explicitly given by Divine revelation.

For Wisdom never conflicts with God's law given in Holy Scripture since she is sent from God to give life and rescue from folly. Wisdom knows God's Word on a matter, yet assists in the moment when the application of that Word is not otherwise obvious. Wisdom stands beside the one of innocent ears, bristling at the profanity emitting from the conversation companion and whispers in the ear, "Listen to what they're saying - not just how they're saying it." Wisdom leans in and assures, "There's much to enjoy that is not sin. Consider enjoying more the people you know than the rules you invent." Wisdom is attractive and beautiful, sending tingles down the spine as she utters softly in the ear the secrets of sound judgment. Her words hone one's skills and make the hands bear good fruit. Her influence brings prosperity instead of destruction, dignity instead of debasement, honor instead of shame, life instead of death.

Though it may seem like Wisdom plays "hard to get," she is nonetheless the only 'woman' fully worthy of a man's passion (she is, by far, the finest 'matchmaker' for young people as well as a wife's best friend). Wisdom is clothed in God's glory, perfumed by God's grace, groomed by God's perfection, speaking insights from God's Word. She is none other than the Spirit of God remaining the close companion every young person should be looking as their "first love."

That's Sacred to Me

Growing up, I heard two contradictory messages from Christian authority figures all around me, though I didn't realize it at the time.

1. God is everywhere and with us all the time. He doesn't need special rituals or spaces to meet with us (as was supposedly the dominant reality of Jewish religion in the Old Testament). "We're not like those Catholics," I was told, "who need rituals, robes and ornate buildings to worship. We don't need all that 'extra' stuff." Buildings, things and job positions aren't particularly "special" to God.

2. "Don't run in church!"... "Don't treat your Bible like that!" ... "Dress in your 'Sunday best'"... "Support your pastor. He's a 'man of God'."

You can see the conflict. There was an overt anti-Catholicism in the Baptist tradition that sought to reject 'elements of the sacred' while intuitively practicing them in many respects. Over the years though, I've come to discover that Protestant traditions rightly maintain this unacknowledged instinct because it has such deep roots among the populus Dei ("the people of God" for all time). What is necessary is not to deny these 'elements of the sacred,' but instead to plainly identify them, properly engaging them in worshiping the Lord. I offer here five categories of "the sacred" that the people of God naturally use in the lifestyle of worship:

• Sacred Times

One of the most easily acknowledged of these categories is the notion of specific times 'set apart' to God for worship or his particular use. The 10 Commandments includes this with "Remember the Sabbath day to set it apart as holy. For six days you may labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the LORD your God; on it you shall not do any work, you, or your son, or your daughter, or your male servant, or your female servant, or your cattle, or the resident foreigner who is in your gates" (Ex 20:8-10). Thus the notion of sacred time is introduced in the Old Testament, and carries forward into the New Testament as early Christians gathered on Sunday to commemorate the first day of the week when Christ arose from the dead. Therefore, the Christian Sunday replaced the Jewish Saturday ("sabbath") as the day of the week set apart to the Lord specifically to worship him and enjoy his provision.

However, 'sacred time' was, by no means, restricted to merely a day. Sacred holidays (feasts) punctuated the calender to create the occasional party 'to the Lord.' In addition, even times of day were designated for 'morning and evening sacrifice.' Sacred time is setting aside particular amounts of time for worshiping the Lord and enjoying life with him.

• Sacred Space

Though not listed specifically in the Decalogue, the element of sacred space remains ever present throughout the Bible. Though it's more easily observed in the Old Testament (i.e. Moses removes shoes on 'holy ground,' Jerusalem as God's 'holy city' and the Temple as the 'house' of the Lord), the New Testament makes no effort to counteract this paradigm. The early Church appears to have understood this level of their continuity with the ancient faith of the Israelites, developing healthy appetites for the 'sanctuary' as designated space for communal worship. The "Don't run in church!" admonishment of the Baptist church betrays a heritage beholden to the ancient Church catholic. What's more? The front of the church building differs from the rear of the 'sanctuary' (i.e. auditorium or 'worship center' for mega-churches). Even if horseplay is tolerated among children after service hours, they still are not allowed to rough-house on the stage, around the pulpit or across the communion table. People of faith have an intuitive sense of 'sacred space' that suggests to them, "the Lord communes with me there in a different manner that he does elsewhere."

• Sacred rites

It is only natural that protocols and procedures are in place for interacting with the Divine that acknowledges their superior place over the worshiper. This acknowledgment is essential to demonstrate reverence and appropriate respect to the deity one believes is being worshiped. Obviously, one can get around this by simply not believing that a deity is present or listening, but this amounts to a functional atheism unacceptable to the devout. Communal worship in the Old Testament is the very model of rites and rituals all crafted to reflect the holiness of the God being approached through the system of sacrifices. Though all of these would not be exactly duplicated in the New Testament, echoes of them are found in such NT admonishments to "do everything in a decent and orderly manner" (1 Cor 14:40) and worship descriptions as "They were devoting themselves to the apostles’ teaching [suggests a creedal confession of faith] and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread [suggests sacramental communion] and to prayer [lit. the prayers]" (Acts 2:42). Even church traditions that claim to be "non-liturgical" demonstrate this principle in how accepted practices naturally emerge as facilitating worship during the gathering of the faithful.

• Sacred objects

The tradition is long and obvious that God uses stuff as instruments of his presence and power. Whether it is Moses' staff during the Exodus story, the Ark of the Covenant or the hem of Christ's garment through which a woman was healed, objects have been designated by God throughout redemptive history to convey God's 'localized presence.' The fear of overdoing this instinct into a quasi-idolatry should, by no means, retard the tendency to continue what God has instituted in ancient times. If Paul's quotation of Habakkuk that "the righteous by faith will live" suggests a continuity of faith among the Faithful of all time periods (cf. Rom 1:17; Hab 2:4), then God's use of sacred objects to convey his presence among his people is no less appropriate today than it has ever been throughout time. Thus, abusing sacraments in the NT can carry similar consequences to unauthorized contact with the Ark of the Covenant in the OT (cf. 1 Cor 11:27-30; 2 Sam 6:6-7). One appropriately demonstrates reverent care for those objects used for worship today (i.e. Bible, crosses, communion ware, even worship garments) knowing that reverence employed in handling those objects reflects one's reverence before God.

• Sacred offices

Within a given community, there is always a clear necessity for designated people, set apart and skilled, to facilitate the communal worship rites. This is not merely restricted to the prophets, priests and Levites of ancient Israel. Presbyters, pastors and teachers are listed among the "gifts" God gives to the New Testament covenant community as well. The office of "Apostle" holds special status as the first of Jesus' followers who are trusted with accurately and effectively spreading his message. Thus, it remains necessary for clergy to be ordained by someone that was ordained by someone that was ordained by someone [etc....] ordained by an Apostle and trusted to succeed them ("apostolic succession"). Even now, 'holy men' are consecrated within a given religious community, and recognized as qualified to lead the community in their accepted rites. Being 'set apart' as holding a sacred office, these individuals fulfill an intermediary function, assisting worshipers in connecting with God, reflecting the ultimate and complete manner this function is carried out by Jesus Christ.

These 'elements of the sacred' are clearly evident in the Biblical record, and are reflected in modern Christian practice as well. The most legitimate Christian practices embrace this heritage and seek to maintain the healthy intermingling of orthodoxy and orthopraxy. In addition, we have not even addressed here the concept of 'scared people,' that renders the populus Dei as the official residence of the living God (sacred space), with a lifespan dedicated to God (sacred time), who is his instrument of presence and power (sacred objects), who are invited into his courtly presence through royal protocols (sacred rites) and must bear his image and represent him to the world (sacred office). This notion of sacred people would thus render all sin a defilement of the sacred.

I grew up in a tradition that offered contradictory messages about 'the sacred.' I now operate in a tradition that maintains better harmony regarding these. In my opinion, all Christians would benefit greatly from acknowledging their instincts toward the sacred as given by God, and that those instincts, while needing parameters and direction from Holy Scripture and the wisely authoritative fellowship of the Church, are ignored at our own peril.

What's the "Calling" in life?

One of the issues that contributes a great deal to "teen angst" is the concern over "What do you want to be/do when you grow up?" The process of selecting a profession that will be both personally fulfilling and financially sustaining is a daunting task that few high-schoolers are up to. It is, therefore, of little help that so many influential voices surround them regarding what they ought to do with their life. The malaise of messages they imbibe while braving the gauntlet often labeled "finding yourself" are by no means harmonious. Familial opinions may clash with the youth's own internal proddings, or they may echo them. In any case, the young person can by no means ignore the thoughts of their surrounding peers or parents when considering the career path.

Hopefully, all of the hard work of personal discovery pays off as choices are made regarding vocation paths and education strategies. Nevertheless, when engaged in that path, the individual must perceive that it is a course they have chosen. However, the truly autonomous choice is somewhat of a misnomer. Myriad factors come to bear in the process of decision making, and ambient conditions of peer pressure and familial approval cannot be fully discounted. On the contrary, so varied are the influential components on one's choosing of a life course that it remains highly problematic to identify them all. As a result, many do not even attempt to do so. Instead, the kaleidoscope of shades that color their decision are clumped together and summarized with a nebulous label: "calling."

This term ("calling") has come into such popular use that the fact that no one truly knows what they mean when they use it is, by no means, a deterrent from using it with dizzying frequency. It's uses range from the relatively benign compliment "You missed your calling" (given when one supposedly observes exceptional skill demonstrated in another), to the more sinister source of teen-angst "You must discover your calling" (saddling the youngster with the heavy misconception that there might be one thing they can do in life). In any event, "calling" is meant to convey the supposed marrying of aptitude and appetite as regarding one's vocation. It can be used in a comparatively harmless manner, suggesting that one's "calling" should reflect both high aptitude AND high appetite activity, but in religious circles it can take on a very different connotation.

The propensity of the religious sub-culture to "punt" to the work of God as a sort of universal "fudge factor" cannot be overstated. Anything for which I'm unwilling to take the time to explain, I can simply invoke how "God works in mysterious ways" to end the conversation. This instinct is not entire misplaced, for the life of faith acknowledges how frequently God works through seemingly natural processes (also labeled "Providence" in some literature). Nevertheless, this same instinct can be abused to infuse certain inexplicable choices with Divine authority. In few cases is this more evident than with the manner that minsters describe themselves as "called of God." Instead of simply acknowledging the choices they made, and that their aptitude and appetite converged in a ministerial career, the choice to pursue a career in ministry is suggested to have been a response to a "Divine call."

This language can have the positive effect of helping the minister weather tough moments in the career, where setbacks and disappointments can test resolve. However, at the other end of the spectrum, it can have the destructive effect of keeping someone locked into that arena that should not be there. It is one thing for a man to endure hardships in a vocation because he feels "called" to it. It is another matter altogether for a man to remain in a vocation he not well suited for because of the guilt over potentially ignoring his "calling." Thus the whole language of "calling" seems hardly worth it's destructive potential. Surely God is not offended if a man who he "calls" admits that he really wanted to become a minister. But what untold pain ensues when a man that should not be in ministry stays at it because he perceives himself "called by God?"

This misplaced and pious language borrows its terms from Biblical terminology used less than a dozen times in Pauline literature (Greek-kaleo meaning "to urgently invite someone to accept responsibilities for a particular task, implying a new relationship to the one who does the calling — ‘to call, to call to a task.’"). Most often the phrasing of "calling" or "called" referenced God's drawing of someone to salvation through faith in Christ - having little to do with vocation choices or service in the Church. Nevertheless, because the term is found in the Bible, this gives license to use it, in popular religion, to blame my career choices on God more than on my own desires or the influence felt from friends and family.

For years I had labored under the assumption of having been "called" to the ministry. Many education and ecclesiastical choices were made in light of this assumption. However, now, after a considerable time of reflection, it is more plainly evident that the various ambient influences that came to bear should have been better identified. Ministerial choices were made with considerable attention to how family and friends found it laudable and praiseworthy. In an evangelical sub-culture, it is considered that if someone is truly spiritual, they will seek to "devote their life to the service of Christ" (this is code language for pursuing a religious career). As much as I revered my father, there was no one he revered so much as the local pastor. If a young man wanted to pursue a career that pleased that father, the choice was obvious. In addition, having various friends in the evangelical sub-culture who also thought a ministry career to be more respectable than any other pursuit, peer approval also played a role.

Can it be forcefully asserted that God played no role in this? By no means. To the extent that Providence can be credited for life lessons, God is appropriately thanked for life events that have proven beneficial. Was ministerial training and service totally contrary to my desires? Not at all. Indeed for one who enjoys teaching and training others, such aptitudes can find fulfilling expression in many careers (ministry included). But was I "called of God" to ministry? This language seems so meaningless now. I was once quite convinced I was "called," but had also failed to account for the various factors that had influenced my choices. So now, it seems far more responsible to merely assert that one is "called" to be conformed to the image of Christ - and some may choose careers of training other people in that process (which I did for a time).

But that's not good enough for some. It was recently posed to me that if I once was "called," to rebel against that "calling" now is sin. THAT'S SICK! The man that suggested that to me is one who I have some respect for, so I didn't exclaim to him what was blaring in my head at the time ("You pulled that out of thin air!" - censored, of course). What great pressures are heaped upon some for suggesting that their career choice is no less vital to the Church than when Jesus "called" his disciples to follow him. No, it is far more helpful to simply acknowledge one's choices, along with the various influences impacting that decision (Yes, religious zeal is a legitimate influential factor; so long as it is acknowledged as part of one's own choice), rather than to "punt" to the ambiguous language of "calling" that, while shielding one from others questioning the choice, serves to misplace responsibility for the choice. God didn't make you do this. You wanted to. Now admit the various reasons why doing it brought you fulfillment.

For me, Christian ministry brought me fulfillment because I enjoy watching people develop. It gives me pleasure to see people learn, and through that learning be better equipped to advance in their pursuits. In the Christian life, "advancement" means to be more conformed to the image of Christ. But for the same reasons I found fulfillment in ministry, I can easily find it elsewhere in academia as well. It's better to simply admit this than to maintain the unhelpful language of "calling." If a minister I respect speaks of being "called" to the ministry though, I won't try to refute him. I'll simply think to myself, "actually, you pretty much chose to do this. You're good at it. There was an opportunity to do it...and we're all the beneficiaries of your choice." May we all take more responsibility for our choices, identifying the various motives we bring to the table in making our choices, so that, while Providence can be credited for some good choices, God won't be blamed for bad ones.