The Time That is Given Us

A couple of years ago I read a beautiful short story by J.R.R Tolkien with the odd name Leaf by Niggle. It tells the story of Niggle, an obscure painter living in a fictitious rural setting. Niggle is not a particularly talented painter, but he loves painting landscapes full of trees. If he had a gift it was his attention to detail on the leaves of his trees, which he poured over with intense dedication. One painting in particular he started by painting a single leaf, which then needed a tree, and eventually an entire landscape. Working on this painting began to consume him and became his life’s work. He spent hours on it, with the canvas ever expanding to hold the growing landscape. The painting became such an obsession that he found anything that pulled him away from his work to be a nuisance. When neighbors stopped to talk he would listen, “but underneath he was thinking all the time about his big canvas” on which his landscape was unfolding. What he wanted more than anything else was to be able to work, uninterrupted, on his painting. He was getting older and knew his time on earth was growing short, and therefore resented even more anything that pulled him away from his work. Despite all this he was a kind man who, despite his annoyance at the interruption, could never bring himself to truly ignore anyone who requested help.

Niggle’s biggest irritation was Parish, “his only real neighbor, all other folk lived a long way off. Still he did not like the man very much; partly because he was so often in trouble and in need of help; and also because he did not care about painting.” Parish was more likely to criticize Niggle’s garden for being over run with weeds then he was to take notice of Niggle’s painting, which he regarded as having little value. On a wet, windy autumn day Parish came over to ask Niggle for a huge favor. His wife had become very ill and the wind was damaging his roof. Parish asked Niggle to ride for help; arguing that since he was lame in one leg and did not have a bicycle (apparently there are no cars where Niggle lives), Niggle should be the one to seek help. Niggle, sensing that he was nearing the end of his life and determined to finish his painting before he died, was resentful of the interruption. Niggle grudgingly agreed to ride through the rain and wind to find help for Parish and his wife. Niggle’s act of sacrifice turns out to be of marginal worth. The doctor arrives to discover that Mrs. Parish was not as ill as Parish made it sound, while contractors never did show up to inspect the roof damage. Worse yet, Niggle himself becomes quite ill from riding through the cool, damp weather on his way to summon help. He eventually recovers, but was not able to work on finishing his painting during the time he was ill. Just as he finally does regain the strength to continue working on his painting, he receives a visitor who tells Niggle that his time on earth is up and that he is being summoned for his journey to the afterlife. He must leave immediately; his painting will forever remain unfinished and unappreciated. The story continues with Niggle’s journey into a sort of purgatory where his life’s conduct and priorities are scrutinized by anonymous beings who are responsible for Niggle’s fate. Niggle overhears their conversations as they go over the records of his life, debating the merits of both his good points (he was a kind man who helped his neighbor without expecting reward) and his bad points (he really only cared about his painting and regarded everyone as a nuisance) to decide what sort of treatment he had earned.

I recently reread this story shortly after my grandmother’s death, which has hit me at a point in life where I feel I am at a crossroads of a sort; a time of evaluating where I have been and where I am going in life. The profound way in which Tolkien’s story examines what is truly important in life has kept me thinking for a couple of months now. What have I done with my life? Has anything I have done mattered in anyway? How have I treated those along the way? How should I live out the remaining time I have left on earth?

As I get older I find myself increasingly out of sync with a society that seems to glorify immaturity and irresponsibility. As I was trying to figure out my life in the years during and after college I found that the number of adults who I felt lived a life worth emulating were few and far between. It seemed to me then -and now- that our society idealizes childhood and focuses tremendous efforts and resources into creating a perfect childhood, but provides little genuine help to prepare these same children to live adult life well. One of my goals as a teacher is to demonstrate to my students that being an adult and taking responsibility are good things to be desired, and that an adult life lived well is truly better than trying to cling desperately to the fading remnants of childhood. It is as adults that we grow into being able to truly make a difference in the lives of others, to address societal problems, and to learn to love those around us in deeper ways. We also have to the opportunity to explore life in ways we may have dreamed of as a kid, and that when approached with the right sense of priority, there is still a lot of fun and joyfulness that can be experienced as adults. We have around 20 years of childhood, but potentially 50-60 years of adult life, and this ratio gives a hint as to how we as a society should be investing in our children’s lives.

The changing expectations of our educational system have added to the problem. Education has changed over the years from a system that was focused on developing citizens with strong moral character into one that has become more of an extended job training process. David Brooks, in his excellent book The Second Mountain, gives examples of how education leaders used to view the purpose of education:

‘“Character is the main object of education,” said Mary Woolley, president of Mount Holyoke a century ago. When J. F. Foxburgh, headmaster of the Stowe School in Vermont was asked in the 1920’s, about the purpose of his institution, he said it was to turn out young men who were, “acceptable at a dance, invaluable in a shipwreck.” ‘

This has changed both on the university level where the pursuit of knowledge through world class research reigns supreme and on the local high school level where success is measured by how many diplomas are handed out each year. While these are in one sense good and necessary things, have we perhaps lost something along the way? And are we really preparing kids today for adulthood? As I have interacted fellow educators and administrators, I sense that the vast majority would love to find ways to incorporate more character formation into education, and most do what they can within the current system. Parents also seem to be supportive of a emphasis on character development in schools, and I suspect most would be in favor of more being done towards that end if possible. Part of the issue is that as American culture has become more diverse and pluralistic it is harder to find agreement on what sort of character and values should be emphasized in a public school setting, and so focusing on the one thing we all can agree on – that we want our kids to be prepared to have good jobs- becomes the main focus of education. The result is a sort of hollow value-less education that leaves students entering life with the ability to (hopefully!) find a job but unable to answer the ‘big questions’ of life. Brooks observes, “The research ideal offers little way for the university to engage the student as a whole person, an entity that has longings and a hunger for meaning. It subtly says, Ignore the soul behind the curtain.” I understand this hunger for meaning as it has shaped much of my life, and I find myself wondering what I can do to bring meaning into my classroom, and whether or not the little I can do will really make any difference in the long run.

That search for meaning has been intricately wrapped up in my desire to make sense of God and the Christian faith that I was at first given and then later embraced as my own. It has been a tumultuous journey motivated by the juxtaposition of two factors: on one hand Christianity has been a source of enormous strength, guidance and wisdom as I have navigated life’s challenges, and on the other hand it has been a source of enormous frustration trying to navigate all the differing theological positions attempting to find what is true. The reality is that one’s theology -or lack thereof- tends to define your social relationships. Like attracts like, and I have over the course of my life struggled to find a place of belonging in modern evangelical circles; this is especially true as political ideology seems to have greater influence than theology for many evangelicals and has lead to higher levels of polarization. I have found that if one begins to dig into the history and theology of Christianity, the modern American political framework that focuses on who is a ‘conservative’ or a ‘liberal’ seems increasingly meaningless. Jesus statement to Pilate, the Roman governor of first century Judea, that “My kingdom is not of this world” is one that resonates with me with increasing force. Allowing this statement to sink deeply into a person’s being to the point it changes one’s actions, will likely lead one to embrace a path with few true companions. As is the case with other area’s of my life, the feeling of being ‘out of sync’ with the more popular streams of thought lead me to question more and dig deeper attempting to make sense out of the world around me.

This process of questioning and seeking truth have lead me to desire to help others, especially younger people, navigate the complexity of our current societal chaos to find ways faith can be built rather than destroyed. Over the years I have served in many differing capacities within my local church, and I am currently teaching youth Sunday School, heading a discipleship committee, and serving on my church board. As I look at my church involvement over the last decade, what has actually been accomplished? Truthfully, I don’t really know. Few people ever tell how you how your actions have impacted them, and the impact of behind the scenes work such as being involved in the decision making on a board is nearly impossible to measure in any way. Most of the teenagers I have taught over the years have scattered in many directions; some have kept the faith and some have not. While the question of ‘What difference have I made’ seems very self absorbed, it is one that I find myself asking a lot right now. I ask that not just as a reflection of the potential impact of my past, but in an attempt to help discern what particular direction my path should be taking as I head into the next few years of my life.

An extension of my desire to help others find and grow their faith is this blog. I have always had a desire -a somewhat secret desire for many years- to write as a way to attempt to communicate the thoughts that tend to remain bottled up within me. I interact with the world most intensely through the written word; it is through books that I encountered the primary influences in my life – C. S. Lewis, Philip Yancey, J.R.R Tolkien, and many more – who have shaped my thinking and help transforms me into the person I am today. And it is through writing that I find myself able to communicate thoughts and feelings that are too deep to share through most ‘in person’ conversations. Some things can only be expressed when we take the time to wrestle with our inner selves, trying to find the perfect word or phrase to bring to life some abstract idea or feeing in such a way that others might recognize within themselves something similar, or at least understand what you are attempting to describe. The journey to dig down beneath the surface layers of distraction and busyness into the deeper, truer parts of our being is, for me at least, a spiritual discipline and one I neglect far too often. I can only hope that my writing connects with a few other people and provides some insight into their own spiritual journey. I have not been able to write as much since I began full time teaching, but I have been pleasantly surprise that my blog is still being visited by as many or more people as it was a few years ago when I was able to write more, and it has been visited by people from over 60 countries. This does give me some satisfaction, but I do at times wonder what most visitors think about my posts. While I receive positive feedback from friends and family, virtually no one else ever leaves a comment in response to a post. Was it interesting, helpful, or a complete waste of time? Or to ask the question I have been asking myself about much of my life lately, did it make any difference at all?

As I ponder that question, I am reminded of C. S. Lewis’ thoughts on how God will evaluate us when the world itself comes to an end,

“For what comes is Judgement: happy are those whom it finds laboring in their vocations, whether they were merely going out to feed the pigs or laying good plans to save humanity a hundred years hence from some great evil. The curtain has indeed fallen. Those pigs will never be fed, the great campaign against White Slavery or Governmental Tyranny will never in fact proceed to victory. No matter: you were at your post when the Inspection came.”

Perhaps that is the measure of a life well lived; to be at our posts laboring in some endeavor whose full worth will never be fully understood this side of eternity. It is our job, then, to make sure we truly are at our posts, giving our bests effort to live out our God given vocations.

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