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The Ultimate Sacrifice

My last thoughts on altruism concern a person who performs the ultimate sacrifice and gives their life to save another. This should be understood in a Christian context and a non-Christian context, as they are distinctly different.

My first scenario of this is with a Christian who gives up their life in order to save another’s. There are limitless possible synopses for this to occur, but for simplicity’s sake, let’s say that a Christian man saved a strangers life by jumping in front of a bus, an act that took the Christian man’s life but saved the other man’s. As a human being with survival tendencies, this was a foolishly altruistic thing to do, but as a heaven-believing Christian, this was a profitable move. For many Christians, the belief is that performing a sacrifice such as this will lead to an automatic ticket into heaven. In John 15:13, we are told that: “Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” Taking this verse (and many other similar lessons) from the Bible may lead a Christian to believe that in the event where one has the opportunity to take their life in order to save another’s they should take it. First, because they are obeying God’s commandment to love another. Second, because their act of sacrifice will (most likely) ultimately lead to an eternity spent with God.

When looking at this specific scenario you might conclude that a Christian is not acting altruistically when they lay their life down to save another. I am not cynical enough to buy into this philosophy as most acts of self sacrifice like this are not pre meditated and occur in the moment without the time to process the possible ramifications (death) and the possible rewards (Heaven). Having said that however, it does give atheists a leg up in the battle to prove the possibility of altruism. An atheist's motives in a life saving action (one that cost his/her life) are purely altruistic. There is no reward at the end of the tunnel. There is no benefit to the person performing the act. There is strictly a life giving act, made with the selfless concern for others.

In conclusion of my thoughts on altruism, I don’t believe that all humans act with such latent motives when they are performing an act of charity or philanthropy. My thoughts are such that, when a person performs an altruistic act, their altruism should not be taken for granted. My point is summarized that removing your self from an action made by the self is very difficult to do.

JW

The end.

As we return to Michigan, Wisconsin, Massachusetts, Indiana and elsewhere, we bring with us the stories and lessons of our summer in Colorado. Thanks to everyone who participated in them. May we all be safely reunited this fall at Calvin College.

Blessings.

Time For Reflection

Well, I guess this is it. The LCI program is officially over. I've learned a lot about leadership and myself, made new friends, and had some fun times in the mountains. It was a summer full of challenges and one that I'll certainly never forget. But people are heading home, and the ranch is becoming a bit quiet and lonely. I'm anxious to leave too so I can spend time with my family and return to Calvin soon. But I still have a week left of work and not much keeping me here. We have no more meetings or activities and the virtues of patience and diligence have never been more applicable, yet difficult to embody.

But now that all has drawn to a close, it is the perfect time for reflection. Last night, five of us met with Chris Klein, the mentors, and this week's speaker and shared our thoughts on the program. We were asked the following four questions and given time to write down our answers:

1. How would you describe the summer in a word or a phrase?

2. What are the strengths of the program?

3. What could be improved and developed for next year?

4. Did you achieve the goals you set at the beginning of the summer? What did you get from the program?

Although seemingly basic, these tough questions challenged me to think about the entire summer and reflect on my personal growth. I appreciated the opportunity to examine what worked, what didn't, and what changes I've seen in myself.

To describe the summer in a word or phrase was difficult. On one hand, absolutely everything was new and exciting. Being surrounded by mountains and new people alone was enough to make the summer fun and different. Going hiking, exploring unfamiliar towns, and living in a new part of God's creation, all while building relationships with other students, was an unforgettable experience. But there were many times when work got monotonous and frustrating and I just wanted to return to somewhere familiar. The most fitting phrase I could think of was "highs and lows." Embracing and enjoying every second of the highs and learning to trust God to get me through the lows was perhaps where I found the biggest challenge of the LCI program. During our discussion, we came to a consensus that the summer was certainly challenging in many ways. Although we weren't necessarily challenged in ways we anticipated, we all felt that we grew in unexpected ways and gained much from the experience.

We went on to discuss our favorite parts of the program and changes that could be made for next year. We ended by sharing how we grew and the goals we accomplished. It was encouraging to recognize my own growth and hear how others benefited from the experience as well.

I ended the night by eating ice cream, hanging out at the grille, and playing a board game with friends, a night quite typical here at SMR. But I went to sleep with content of the discussion on my mind and a smile on my face, knowing that this was right where God wanted me to be this summer. I am going to try to enjoy every minute I have left here because once I leave, I know I'll be yearning to return.

Patience, Prayer, and (Shameless) Promotion of Calvin College

Sometimes the reason I'm at Calvin College versus any other school stares me right in the face. Not that I want to turn this post into some kind of alma mater promotion as if I got paid for that (altho I might...), but that's just what I'm thinking at the moment. Here I am, in Colorado, at a YMCA with a hundred year history working alongside from people all over the world. It's safe to say that's pretty legitimate; I mean, I could think of more legitimate things like working at the U.N. or something but it's pretty cool that my school is able to provide an opportunity like this. The leadership experience that I've had this summer as some form of overblown leadership position has been real and the opportunities I've been able to have are impressive. That's the first thing I love about Calvin: it puts you in opportunities that are very real-world, legitimate, impressive, and formative.

The second thing I love is that Calvin is really smart about bringing things back to a Christian perspective. So, while doing this often-general leadership job, I get to hear talks from various speakers from our college debriefing the kinds of things I'm experiencing. And they always end up bringing things back to God, and more than that they do it in a way that connects with my experience and is tangible to me.

So why am I thinking about this? Well, last night we listened to Henry DeVries talk about patience. Let's add to that backdrop that I have not been a patient person this summer. When I'm one hour from go-time on an activity and we're still two cars short of getting people there, I am not patient. The thing I've recognized quite a few times, however, is that things end up working out. I think there is something of God's faithfulness in that, but there's also a lot of God's surprising (aggravating?) timing. It's this kind of timing that reminds me of a poem by Walter Brueggemann:

Just when we imagine that we have you figured out

you show up working the other side of the street

in your frightening freedom.

You meet us behind and before

as promise and as threat,

and we are overmatched whenever we sit to deal with you.

So we bid you to play less vigorous attention to us

and we bid you to give us the freedom and courage

that we may withstand you

in ways that are proper to you and to us.

We pray in the name of the utterly humble One

whom you therefore exalted.

Give us wisdom and freedom

that we may sense the ways in which we may best live in this world

where the last become first and the first become last. Amen.

God is a surprising God. As Glenn Triezenberg would say, "God's other name is surprise." More than that, God seems to like to frustrate us (or at least me). This summer, I've certainly seen that. God has worked out many things for me, but in ways that have been very frustrating. It gets to me, I mean, if God can work things out last minute why can't he work them out just a few hours before? My peace of mind would certainly not have to be sacrificed.

And that, I realized last night, is just it. My peace of mind doesn't leave room for God's surprise and God's timing. My peace of mind requires that I am in control and that my plans are being enacted, not necessarily God's. And so, once again I am reminded of the importance of prayer, a discipline designed to bring my mind in communion with God's so that my plans slowly are absorbed into his and my desires into his desires until my peace of mind consists in seeing God act, no matter how. This is a place I am not at yet, but a place that I want to go.

And so I sign off tonight with that as my prayer, and for that prayer I am grateful to Calvin College, because without both the intense, challenging experience and the wise, concrete spiritual insight I would have had these realizations. Leadership on my own is worth a lot, but to the degree I want to invite God into the picture I'm going to be frustratated when he reminds me that he is really the one in control. Leadership with God is far harder, but that is why patience is a virtue--not a happy meal toy.

Week 10: Patience and Celebration.

Monday night's meeting marked the official end of the 2011 Leadership Challenge Institute, though this was celebrated more festively on Sunday evening at the Daven Haven Lodge in Grand Lake, Colorado. We gathered for the banquet on an outdoor terrace for fruit, cheese and photographs in our dress clothes, a rare occurrence for a group that spends five days a week in brightly colored staff polos. Inside we were met with a delicious meal that culminated in a slide show commemorating our summer and granting awards to each student: most likely to hitch-hike, most likely to visit the ER, most likely to die of food poisoning (too soon?), and recognizing the leaders who made this summer possible. A delightful evening and a pleasant end to the LCI activities schedule ended with dancing or ice cream, or in some cases, both. It was with this fond memory that we entered the Acord Room for the last time to listen to our week ten speaker, Henry DeVries.

An interactive session, the meeting found students broken up into their small groups as Henry prompted us to consider various aspects of the virtue of patience, one particularly relevant as we wait to go home and prepare for a new chapter of our lives to begin. Patience, we said, is more than just waiting. It is intentional, active, an acceptance of the unknown plan of God, an act of grace toward people and situations that are not as you would wish them. Patience is about how we wait, especially in the face of adversity, and is a salad of spiritual fruits: self-control, humility, generosity, peace, faithfulness, joy, love, hope, respect... We exercise patience in believing others to be as important as ourselves and their time just as valuable. We wait not in complaint and frustration but in hope, in peace, and we are faithful in that period of time. We give of ourselves.

We find patience difficult because it requires that of us, a recognition and release of our own entitlement and importance even when we do not understand. We find patience with God especially difficult, because it is so hard to see where he is acting and where he asks us to do so, when we are asked to wait in a promise and when it is simply a no. We find patience taxing, yet we are called to it. So we cultivate this, as every virtue, in our effort to become more and more like Christ. Henry brought us four ways to learn patience, citing the wisdom of Neal Plantinga:

First, look at annoying people with the eyes of imaginative love. That could be your grandma that you're tailgating.

Second, set your heart on things above. In the grand scheme of things, does two extra minutes in the grocery store line really matter?

Third, remember that learning patience is like learning a musical instrument. You need a good teacher or two and a lot of practice.

Fourth, pay attention to the example of Christ.

The students who remain at Snow Mountain Ranch this week and next (and a few yet the week after that) will have plenty of opportunities to practice this virtue, as we have throughout the summer. But, Henry reminded us, if we are patient, we will eventually be able to look back and see the hand of God and his purpose for this summer and our lives.

32 Flavors.

I spent my final Saturday afternoon in the Rockies sitting on a bench on the boardwalk of Grand Lake, Colorado, with Ellie Pedersen and Sarah Fox, people-watching, eating birthday cake ice cream, and reflecting on our summer. With less than one week between me and home and our final LCI meeting just two nights away, we began to consider our experience at Snow Mountain Ranch, and what we want to say when people ask about it. I can imagine the questions:

"How was it?"
"Would you go back?"
"What was the best part?"
"What did you learn?"

My sister asked me a few days ago if I would still spend my summer in Colorado if I had the chance to do it all again- "Would you go back and advise your six-months-ago self not to do it?" I told her that there were many, many things I would advise my six months ago self not to do. But my summer here, though sometimes difficult and lonely and frustrating and painful, has taught me lessons I had to leave home to learn. I chose to come because I felt God was leading me here, a truth I doubted some days, but one to which I have held throughout the past eleven weeks. Between bites of waffle cone, I explained to Ellie and Sarah that as a Grand Rapids native attending Calvin College, I had never experienced separation from my home or my family for more than a few weeks at a time. Living in this place gave me a new understanding and appreciation for my life in that one, with a family whose love, support and wisdom has sustained me from twelve hundred miles away, and friends whose notes, phone calls and text messages of encouragement reminded me both why I am here and what I have to return to in the fall. I learned that despite my fierce independence from birth, I am often too weak to weather storms on my own, and that is okay- that's what community is for. And I began to learn many lessons about who I am as a child of God and what that means for me this summer, in the coming school year, and throughout my life.

My summer in Granby remains but a chapter in the marvelous story God writes, one with many plot twists and mood swings, both beauty and darkness. I have alternately experienced joy and sadness here, but I have consistently experienced the faithfulness of God. I cannot say which was the "best part," I doubt I will return, and I cannot sum up "how it was" in a few short sentences. But perhaps we can sit down over some birthday cake ice cream, and I'll tell you, too, all about it.