When I Was (Nearly) Kicked Out of College
My son Abraham just graduated from Covenant College. What joy! But I almost didn’t graduate. My senior year, I nearly got kicked out of college. And a Christian College at that. (But first, Abraham’s happy day:)
Let’s set the stage for this near-disaster: a quick trip to the yearbook. (Who were those young people? And yes, we did get married in college. Yup—-SO young!!)
Here’s what happened. It was Missions Week. The speaker was the president of a mission agency but we all knew him as “Weeping Wally,” for his tendency to break out into dramatic sobs during his messages.
And so it went the whole week, tearful missionary stories all leading up to the last night, the close of the conference. The entire student body was there (it was required). The organ began a familiar drone. I felt a sense a dread for what was coming.
The mission director gripped the pulpit with fresh purpose. He was sweating and florid from his message, theatrically blotting his face with handkerchief.
“It’s time to make a decision, ladies and gentlemen.” He turned, making deliberate eye contact with every section of the auditorium. “This week, you’ve heard about the desperate needs around the world. The world is lost and dying and going to hell. The fields are white unto harvest, but workers are few. Will you go? Will you be the one that brings the light to the dark places of the world?”
He spoke forcefully, his voice rising and cracking with emotion. “Close your eyes now; bow your heads. We’re going to sing ‘Just as I Am,’ and we’re going to let the Lord have his way with us.”
I dutifully bowed my head and sang the words I knew by heart: “Just as I am without one plea/but that thy blood was shed for me/ and that thou bidst me come to thee . . .”
Halfway through the second verse, though, no one in the audience had stirred. He began again.
“The Lord is calling you. Do you hear it?” he boomed with more intensity. “Come on down the aisle and say, ‘Yes, Lord, I hear you! I want to go!’ Who will come?”
The organ moaned through the second verse. No one moved. Two thousand of us were locked in place, only our lips moving to the verses. He began a succession of callouts, first to sports teams: “Do you hear God calling you? People are dying, lost, out on the mission field and you’re playing basketball!” Then he moved to musicians, to Bible majors. To my surprise, by the sixth verse he was down to English majors, my tribe, which I knew was scraping the bottom of the missionary barrel. But did he really believe that the only sacred work was “full-time Christian service”? Didn’t he know that all of life and labor belong to Christ?
His cries got louder, his face redder. “Close your eyes and bow your heads one last time,” he directed. “We’re not leaving here until God has his way. Now, one final time, with your eyes closed, God is calling you to go to the mission field wherever he calls. Will you go? Just slip your hand up right where you are. Who is answering God’s call?” Then a moment of silence until he announced, “Hands! I see hands all over the auditorium!”
My head shot up in disbelief. I looked around. I saw two hands raised. So, if the Holy Spirit’s not working, clearly you have to pull your own tricks.
When we were finally released I walked home sick at heart. We had been taught at that very school that truth, theology and practice mattered deeply. We believed it. So the next day Duncan and I spent hours crafting a letter to the speaker. It was respectful, but we questioned his sacred vs. secular worldview and his guilt-based methodology.
Four days later we were called before the college president. He was red-faced and angry: “You must write a letter of apology to the speaker. Or you won’t be graduating in May.”
We were crushed and wanted to fight it, but we had no recourse: we had to graduate. For the first time at that school, we wrote words we didn’t mean or believe.
Why am I telling you this story? This story is from Chapter Four in Nearing a Far God: Praying the Psalms with Our Whole Selves. It’s the chapter on the wisdom psalms. This is about wisdom and following the right voice? Every hour, voices call to us from every direction, don’t they? Claiming the way to prosperity, truth, freedom, happiness . . . . Even some voices in the Church mislead and get it wrong. When I’m confused and crazy with all the noise, I know where to go: to God’s word. And these days, I go the wisdom psalms. This is one of my staples, the extraordinary gateway to all the Psalms:
And you know what? I’ve found it’s not enough to just read those words silently. If we truly want to get God’s wisdom deep into us, the mind and heart and bones and cells of us, a momentary silent reading or praying is a start, but there’s SO much more we can do to root ourselves with delight in the river of God’s Word.
Do you need this too? Wisdom and delight? Rooting in God’s word so that your leaves never wither or fade, bearing fruit in every season, even as we grow old . ..? Me too. In my life, God is doing it—-through these simple profound ways I’ve discovered to immerse in His word. Yes, it requires a little more time, but I know no better way to use the time we’re given. (Here’s more about that and the extraordinary Psalm One :https://files.tyndale.com/thpdata/firstChapters/978-1-64158-673-3.pdf. )
Sending love to you all! Be wise, dear friend. Listen and follow the One True Voice. And—-answer back!! May you enter into holy conversation with your Father (yes, even today.)
(P.S. Am I sorry we wrote and sent that letter? I am not. It was still the right thing . …)
