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Wednesday, April 14th, 2010
It’s taken me a while, but I’m beginning to come to a bit of a realization. University is a big deal. Now, I can predict that you reacted to that statement in one of two ways: if you are in your first three years, you might have thought, “you are correct! University is great. It is super. There is nothing that will fulfill me in the same ways that my professors, church in the box, my dormmates, and checking my mailbox excessively have.” If you are in your final year, however, you likely thought, “You are incorrect, good sir. I have spent nearly $48,000 on tuition alone, I am not married to a farm girl/ farm boy turned academic, and I am heading into a career which I feel suspiciously inadequate for. So much so, that it is almost a relief that I am not getting any job interviews.” I am writing to the latter – though, really I’m writing to everyone who will end up graduating.
Trust me, readers, I know how you feel. Aside from not marrying a farm girl (I am married, and to a mason’s girl, no less!), my list matches the status quo; high debt, uncertain future, and a strange sense of inadequacy. I have been concentrating on these things for the past few weeks, though it is easy to find distractions from solving this feeling. The grad gift seems to be a flop for the second year in a row; farewell beers are being shared by friends all around; the weather is see-sawing; and assignments stack higher than ever. Just when it all feels meaningless, you suddenly realize an obvious truth; for four years you have been working towards an accomplishment – but as soon as you step out of these doors, you’ll be back on the bottom rung.
If you weren’t feeling ecclesiastical before, I’m sure you are now.
One day, if you’re like me, you’ll be sorting through your summer schedule, checking the cost of flights back from Thunder Bay for graduation, and wondering, “should I bother? Do I even want to go?” And if you’re like me, you’ll click “pay with visa”.
Why does it matter? Well, for one thing, students over the past few years have not taken these benchmark events seriously – if I had my way, every single student would be at opening convocation with a tie or blouse. Setting the tone for the year is important for many people, and the same goes for graduation. Recognizing that your diploma is more than a sheet of paper signed by a registrar, but a tangible piece of evidence for all of the hard work you have put into your education, is a critical first step to getting out of the grad-funk. While you may still not have a job, and you might still be looking at a summer full of training, you can begin to recognize that you learned much more than you think you did, and when you start practicing your trade, it will show.
Will we leave a legacy? Maybe. Will it be related to any of the work we’ve done in the past four years? Likely not. You and I, reader, have filled our toolboxes, and now – finally – it’s coming time to find something to fix. After a decade or so of relationship kludging and professional tinkering, and after a lifetime of faithful service, you might be able to look back far enough to remember four special years that gave you friends, skills, experience, and(most importantly) a foundation in Christ to build all of these upon.
See what I did there? You are all now writing your wills in order to defer your remaining pension to Redeemer in 2047. If you are not, then I suggest you do at least one thing: think of a way to stay connected. As much as Redeemer needs money, faculty, and students, it also needs a supporting community to encourage individuals to succeed. Why? Because despite being a first step, university is a big deal! Nothing has been more influential for me than the encouragement of alumni who have taken the same steps I am walking right now and somehow ended up being respected professionals. Though much more developed, the same framework that I have been equipped with has allowed others to excel in their work, faith, and relationships.
As I close off my final editorial here at The Crown, I want to take the opportunity to remind you of who we are. A mentor once told me that young people are like uncut diamonds; they appear rough and dark, but as each lesson is learned in life, a chip is cut away. When you leave here and begin to show the brilliance that God planted inside of you from the beginning, take the time to pray for students after you, and if possible, reach out to individual undergrads. Leave with no regrets, and try to make this place better than it was when you started.
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