Hidden Springs

Kathy Lindholm-Leary
San Jose State University

Nestled in the forest are hidden springs, bursting forth with torrents of water when winter storms rage, trickling along to nourish flowers and wildlife in its springtime, and parched in its summer. Even when blinded from our view, the hidden springs survive, because it is God’s hand that empowers such springs to move through their seasons of life. 

We have seasons of teaching, service and writing responsibilities that ebb and flow and surge like the springs: seasons when our professional, spiritual, and personal lives feel enriched by the blessings God has given us ; seasons when  our behavior nourishes the lives of our students or colleagues in small or profound ways; seasons when grants, reports, publications, conferences, and committee meetings consume us; seasons when we question what God is doing or whether He’s even there.

Each Of These Seasons

I have passed through each of these seasons at various points in my professional and personal life, though I must admit that the season that dominates my life is the winter storm surge.  I tend to be a type A personality and get so wrapped up in work and its related responsibilities, taking on far too many tasks than is reasonable, that I get carried away with the torrent before I even stop to realize what I have done.

I have reaped many rewards, both personal and professional, as a result of my productivity. However, when I look at what happens to streams and rivers during torrents, I also see that some objects in the path get scarred or obliterated: health, family life, and friendships.    Jesus knew that, which is why He always made time to withdraw to pray and connect with God.  He knew that storms not only wreak havoc in real time, but they can leave one weakened and over time parched. 

In my own life, being too busy has sometimes resulted in less time devoted to spiritual growth, and sometimes to downright stagnation.  In those times, I was certainly less effective in ministering to others as well. Other times I have not grown as a Christian faculty member because I felt isolated and not sure how to exercise my faith on campus. 

For a long time, I believed in the so-called separation of church and state, and it was a good excuse not to tell students or colleagues about my faith, though I did live it out in my behavior toward others.  Being a more introverted person also made it more difficult for me personally to reach out to other students and colleagues. 

He Guides Us

However, just as God guides the lifecycle of hidden springs, so He guides the seasons and paths in our lives.  He helps us with our teaching and writing and creative thinking.  He guides us in making morally correct but unpopular personnel and other decisions, and helps us deal with the pain that can result when our decisions lead to diminished collegiality and friendships.     

Sometimes He brings us hurting students and colleagues to talk with, pray with, or to invite to our homes. He brings students who simply need to see that there are Christian faculty on campus, and that they are not alone. 

Sometimes He grants us perspective.  I was lamenting to my son that I did not feel like I’ve done much when I look at many of the professors I have read about who lead many students to Jesus (e.g., Professors Who Believe: The Spiritual Journeys of Christian Faculty edited by Paul Anderson).  My son’s loving response reminded me that God does not compare us; God merely asks us to carry out the role He gives us, and that role will be consistent with the skills He has given us.

My husband and I are enjoying the hidden springs that God blessed us with on our forest property in Oregon, but even more, I am appreciating a glimpse into all that God has done in the seasons of my life and the promise of continued guidance and nurturance.

For He who has mercy on them will lead them, even by the springs of water He will guide them.  Isaiah 49:10
 
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© 2008 Kathryn Lindholm-Leary    Used by permission of Faculty Commons

What Award do you seek?

Phillip A. Bishop, Kinesiology
University of Alabama

“ We are not human beings having a spiritual experience,
we are spiritual beings having a human experience.”
Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

As I write these first few lines, I am sitting in a professional academic meeting. The moderator has just spent some time listing the academic awards of the person who will then introduce the session speaker.  So that list of awards is followed by an even longer list of the awards won by the speaker.  No matter how many times I have heard these lists, I always find the introductions at these meetings somewhat disconcerting.  I hear the impressive record of accomplishments of these academic stars and compare my accomplishments to theirs… and always suffer in comparison.

I think to myself, maybe if I focused a bit more on research and grant proposals, maybe if I worked a bit later each day, maybe if I quit doing some of the stuff I do, and did other stuff… This typically takes me from disconcerted to mildly depressed.  Fortunately, that leads me to meditate a bit on why I do what I do, and don’t do some other things.

My First Calling

One of the things I realize, for the 20th or 30th time, is that I have a higher calling than academia. Eventually I recall that my first calling is an ambassador for Christ.

I confess that I find it a very great challenge to “Set my affection on things above, not on things on the earth. (Col 3:2)” After all, I am surrounded by earth, not by the things above. As a faculty member I have tremendous opportunities. I find myself seriously distracted by increasing research, speaking, and consulting opportunities. I have an extremely nice life here on earth, why be concerned about heaven?

But, God has helped me out here.  I am a physiologist, so I get to study the human body. One curious aspect of physiology I have noted in others, though not in myself, is that we get older. Though we can’t explain why, our maximal heart rate declines every year after about age 30, along with muscle mass, strength, and work capacity.  I run slower every year. I lose a bit more hair.  My beard gets whiter.

A few years ago, I was nominated for the highest teaching award at my university.  After a long optimistic wait, I was passed over.  I went from being secure, confident, and even proud to being shaken, disappointed, and humbled.  It took a while and the fellowship of my Christian family at home and at the University to get beyond the disappointment.  Eventually they managed to penetrate my defenses and remind me that this is not my home, and these aren’t the awards I really seek.

I Am Only Passing Through

So every time I see myself in the mirror, God reminds me that I am only passing through this world, I am not a permanent resident.  God uses many metaphors to remind us of this, with my favorite being, “What is man, but a vapor that existeth for a while, and then passes away.”

So what awards would I like to see projected up on the screen.  It’d be nice to win the American College of Sports Medicine citation award, but there’s not much chance of that. No, I think I’d rather shoot a bit higher anyway.  I guess, it may not sound like much but at the end of my career, I’d like to win this award:

“Well done, thou good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord.” (Mat 25:21)

© 2008 Phillip A Bishop     Used by permission of Faculty Commons

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