The Gospel-Proclaiming School : A Philosophy of Christian Education
While many Christian schools articulate emphases upon the biblical truths, they typically struggle to make these mission statements become their central focuses, because they are not immune to the pressures of typical institutions. In the midst of a struggling economy, like most in the private sector, Christian schools seem to struggle to retain enrollment numbers and meet proposed budgets. With this concern, schools begin to consider ways to attract new families – ones that may not be “mission fit.” They feel the pressure to appease the interests of their clientele; they try to stay abreast of new practices and technologies which can help make them most culturally relevant. There should be no surprise that Christian schools face a tension between commitment to their original purpose and making sense of the great pressures which they regularly face.
Schools must have far more than mission statements that are simply mutually recognized by the community; they have to be lived out in organic ways. Failure to live out their missions with consistency often puts the schools in difficult positions, where they try to see the line between being true to their core values and catering to the desires of the larger community. Derek Keenan says that “the development of a walk of faith has been too often viewed as an osmotic function of the ethos and culture of the school, and in other cases schools or parents have equated spiritual formation with a student’s knowing the verses and terminology of the Bible and gospel message” (Drexler, 206). Far too often, it seems like members of the Christian school community are content with an education that assumes that sprinkling a bit of Christianity onto a relatively secular education is acceptable. On the other hand, Christian educators must see their responsibility in working to move the school beyond simply assuming its mission to a place of cultivating and proclaiming it throughout the entire curriculum. This brings together all of the programs, the key-stakeholders, the legacy, and the future of the school in common purpose.
This dilemma is not unlike that which is faced by most churches. Members of the church community generally recognize the purpose of the local body. They understand that they are to be about communal worship, evangelism, and meeting the needs of those inside and outside the church. Yet, they typically assume what they believe to be true, rather than proclaim it on a daily basis. In his book, The Discipline of Grace, Jerry Bridges insists that we must preach the gospel to ourselves on a daily basis. Christians need to do this, because, as Tim Keller suggests in Counterfeit Gods, a Christian’s understanding of all reality hinges upon the Gospel; it hinges upon Christ and His work to reclaim all things to Himself (Col. 1:17-20). Yet, many churches fail to do this, because they assume this Gospel rather than proclaim it. They take for granted that which makes sense of all other focuses of the Church.
Because this is true, the Christian educator must evaluate all components asking, “In this area, are we merely assuming the gospel or are we proclaiming it?” Unfortunately, many schools do little more than assume the gospel, and this causes them to lose focus as they move forward. Without question, these are uncertain times for private schools, as parents have to weigh financial options in a more uncertain economy. Stephen Dill says that changing times force the Christian school to return their focuses toward that which does not change: doctrine, mission, core values, and vision based upon the authority of the Gospel found in Scripture (7).
For years, Christian scholars have said that biblical orthodoxy must lead to biblical orthopraxy, which ultimately results in doxology, but this sequence might possibly require another word: orthopathy, which not only appears to bring a sense of balance to the calls toward orthodoxy and orthopraxy, but it also reflects what we see elsewhere in the frameworks of Scripture. It seems like true doxology, worship, is the umbrella which unites a connection between straight thought, straight action, and straight affections. This three-fold focus reflects similar themes that we find in Scripture, that we are to love God with all of our minds, hearts, and strength. J.P. Moreland suggests that “in this sense, worship is expressed in one’s overall approach to life and in every area of life” (158). This also echoes the three-fold office that we see being employed by Christ and Adam: that of prophet, priest and king. Similarly, Dennis Hollinger says, “What we need today, in a fragmented world is a whole faith of the head, heart and hands, with each dimension feeding and sustaining the others” (16). Similarly, when it proclaims the Gospel in all of its programs with a mindset of orthodoxy, orthopraxy and orthopathy, the school can most adequately engage culture by employing the clear, biblical framework of Creation, Fall, and Redemption in each of these areas.
In commitment to orthodoxy, The Gospel-proclaiming school understands the nature and purpose of education and of the ones involved in the educational process. Nicholas Wolterstorff says that “human beings are creatures for whom education is inescapable” (18). Not only would education be a part of what Adam would have experienced in the Garden of Eden, but we ought to expect to experience education in the New Jerusalem; we ought not expect it to end, simply because our sanctification has been made complete in glorification. As image bearers of God, we are drawn to truth and desire to know more of it; as Frank Gabelein says, “Christianity is a system of truth, enveloping the entire world in its grasp” (18). This has always been the case. True knowledge begins with an orthodox understanding of the commandments and purposes of God. Proverbs 1:7 tells us that “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge.” An understanding of who God is radiates into a desire to more fully see ourselves in relation to the world. Peter Jones says that “Christians are at home in the universe. God made us. God made everything else, and He put us here to know and please Him” (24). In creating us, God put us in a world which reflects who He is. As a result, growth in understanding of the world around us brings greater understanding of the God who is reflected in what He has made.
Ultimately education calls man to passionately study the world, taking joy in the particulars and doing so in recognition of God’s intention for man: to learn in a way that depends on God for the source of truth, and then reflects that truth to the world so as to preserve it. Everywhere the Gospel has gone, education has quickly followed. We have seen this patterned throughout the history of the Church. The Good News speaks God’s desire for his people to know Him, and as a result of that, to better know the world around them. This is the heart of education; this is the heart of learning. The writer of Ecclesiastes found this to be true. When he tried to find meaning on his own, he concluded that there was none. But, when he pursued the fear of God, this “above the sun” perspective brought meaning to everything below the sun. In fact, he had the ability to find beauty in all things, because God makes them beautiful in their appropriate place (Eccl. 3:11). We should not be surprised, then, that “no teacher or minister who does not have the Bible at the center of his life and thought to the extent of living daily in this book can hope to develop a Christian frame of reference” (Gaebelein, 45).
God created men and women to love truth, and the Source of that truth. God created a good creation, and God gave all of it to man for his use. When we look at the creation of Adam, we see that a level of curiosity motivated him in his study of these truths. Profound gratitude for the things God had given him and a desire to know God more fully left Adam far more pertinacious in his study. Adam attended to every detail, because “those who love Truth cannot neglect every discipline that pursues truth” (How Should We Then Live, 182). Scientists such as Bacon, Galileo, and Kepler pursued science for the same reason. They did not view man and science in autonomy, but they saw science as a way to know more about the God who had made all things. As fallen men, they lost the ability to see the Creation complete in its intent, without distortion, and reflecting the God who infused his characteristics in it. But, when pre-Fall Adam looked at the world around him, he studied it to learn more about God. In a way, he studied in a utilitarian way; God wanted Adam to use the creation. God wanted Adam to see his own worth as well. Though, as Adam studied the creation and learned how it could benefit him, he did so out of dependence upon the providence of God and the knowledge that comes from Him.
Thinking correctly about education always requires the correct starting point – the person of Christ. The Apostle Paul tells us, “For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together” (Col. 1:16-17). All things have their starting point in God; therefore, He gives them value and a reliable reference point. Peter Jones expands this idea by saying that “the starting point of Gospel truth is that God the Creator, in the three persons of the divine Trinity is the one and only God, and that all that which is not God was created by Him” (24). This starting point not only proclaims the reliability of truth, but it also speaks to the dependence of man for what he knows, for what he learns. We never learn independently, and we cannot come to an understanding of truth through our own, independent thoughts (apologies to Descartes). Rather, we depend upon the personal Holy Spirit, who speaks God’s truth to us – informing our minds and hearts with a robust passion for knowing Him more.
Because of this, we see that education is unifying. In the thirteenth century, several institutions of higher learning were founded. Small towns where oxen crossed streams and where rivers were bridged grew into centers of intellectual and cultural influence; the universities of Oxford and Cambridge were born. The medieval concept of universitas, the root word the modern university, led to a self-conscious effort to reunite all learning with its ultimate point of reference, namely the Lord Jesus Christ, in whom "all things hold together." This notion of unifying all areas of life and all academic disciplines under the lordship of Christ helped to revolutionize the European continent, fueling a Christian consensus that dominated the intellectual and cultural life. This “unity of all learning under God” (Gaebelein, 56) celebrates order. It celebrates the flourishing wholeness, shalom, which God intends us to experience in the learning process.
Tim Keller touches on this shalom in The Reason for God by looking to the Trinity as the purest picture of wholeness; he refers to an eternal “dance of God” – a movement where the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit bend in hospitality toward one another. Their eternal desire to make room for and glory each other seem to Keller like a dance, as each Person of the God-head revolves around another (288). Jesus reflects this same idea in the High Priestly prayer of John 17 as He affirms that the Persons of the Trinity have been glorifying one another from eternity past.
Far too often, we fail to see the connection of the Trinity with the unifying nature of education; yet, we ought to see this desire for wholeness as a reflection of the very nature of God, as represented in three Persons. In the Trinity, we see three distinct Persons – three different personalities and roles, yet one God. We see great unification, despite the diversity. In the same way that God exists in unifying wholeness and purpose, so should we see the purpose of education. The school that authentically believes this must work to enable students to see how the distinct areas of a school fit together. History class does not end when the bell rings; there is no extra-curricular time; thinking deeply is not only required in one or two classes; beauty shouts throughout all of their studies. Students must be drawn to see the connective tissue between the disciplines and even how activities done outside the classroom further the curricular objectives of the school. Christian educators bear this responsibility: to keep intact these many disciplines, despite sin’s best efforts to pull them apart.
Even though many schools fail to proclaim their mission, we cannot underestimate the value of having a mission statement that articulates its dependence upon the infinite, personal God. Repeatedly, studies arrive at conclusions that reflect that “a good mission statement helps prevent organizational myopia and helps to establish the psychological contract between the organization and new members, by indicating what behaviors the organization has a legitimate right to expect from its members. This facilitates socialization of new members into the organizational culture and prevents mission creep” (Slate, 19). If a school wants to be able to have high expectations for learning, it must expect to have a strong commitment to a purpose that gives careful direction. When that purpose is rooted in dependence upon God, the school embraces education as it ought to be. We should not be surprised to find that, even in the business sector, “enduring great companies preserve their core values and purpose while their business strategies and operating practices endlessly adapt to a changing world” (Collins, 195). For, these “great” organizations repeatedly go back to their mission. They have clear sight of their goals, and this allows the organization to run according to desired outcomes. How much more, then, will a school that grounds its mission in dependence upon an infinitely reliable Standard be able to withstand changes which face any system. In pursuit of this mission, the Christian educator must constantly model a commitment to the mission, to dependence and submission to God. Similarly, he must see himself in dependent community with staff members who have the same commitment to Christian worldview articulation, because no one teaches or works out of a philosophical vacuum (Gaebelein, 37).
Even though a school may have a clear mission rooted in the truth of God’s word, the school still struggles in a broken world to hold to that mission. Yet, this where the Gospel speaks loudly. A Gospel-proclaiming school recognizes its dependence upon God, but it also recognizes its own brokenness. It sees the ravishing effects of the Fall, and responds in humility and repentance. The Christian educator must be willing to admit his own failures and the school’s failures to live out what it says it believes. This paves the way for a school that fleshes out repentance in its practices.
Nicholas Wolterstorff says that “Christian education has suffered immensely from the pressures of conformity” (27), and because of this, the Christian school struggles to proclaim what it says it believes. Schools are under great pressure to thrive in world that seeks to define truth on its own terms. This is at the heart of sin; men suppress the truth of God (Rom. 1) and exchange it for a lie, a lie that causes them to proclaim their own autonomy. In the same way that Adam’s sin against God caused an immediate fragmentation of his relationships and capacities (he now has shame; he thinks he can hide from an omniscient God; he blames his wife whom he should protect) we should also expect that a world that has ignored God should produce educational institutions that pursue all sorts of avenue other than that for which they were intended. Former Dean at Harvard, Harry Lewis, laments that many universities are falling apart “when students attend college in hope of becoming financially successful, but they offer students neither a coherent view of the point of a college education nor any guidance on how they might discover for themselves some larger purpose in life” (17). He goes on to suggest that Harvard has sought to produce something other than excellence; it packages up a product different than what it was intended to produce. And, this reflects only one of numerous ways that schools have distanced themselves from education as God would intend it.
Yet, Christian schools do this as well; too often they do not know how to combat the brokenness in the world around them or even within their own walls, so they respond in ways that result in fragmented views of learning and of the learner. Some Christians retreat away from the world and lose sight of the unifying truth that still exists by God’s common grace. They lose the ability to respond to the world, because they ignore the profound truth, beauty, and goodness that can be seen in numerous vignettes through all disciplines. J.P. Moreland says that we now witness “a growing anti-intellectualism in the church, resulting in the marginalization of Christianity in society – its lack of saltiness, if you will” (21). Similarly, Mark Noll argues in The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind that there is no more evangelical mind, because Christians have lost the ability to think deeply about the world around them as a result of marred sight of the truth, which God has revealed in areas outside the “sacred” realm alone. The school that does this, though, only assumes the Gospel, because it denies the fact that Christ came to restore all things through the reconciliation that comes through is blood.
Other schools embrace secularism, but sprinkle some Christian language throughout their mission statements, core values, and curriculum overviews. Donovan Graham says that these schools essentially say the same thing as their secular contemporaries. They tout their “state of the art” opportunities for (worldly) success. They talk about the good citizens they produce who go on to college and earn scholarships. They promote alumni who have been financially successful long before they would recognize an alumnus who struggles to get by. Though they use Christian lingo, ultimately their method becomes their message, and it is a message that does little more than assume the Gospel – if even, it is assumed. Though they would argue otherwise, schools like these seem to suggest that they can fix their own problems by presenting a meritorious product. Thinking like this, though, ignores any need for Jesus, who alone can (has, and will) fix our problems.
Surprisingly enough, though, Jim Collins, who never makes any claim to Christianity, suggests that such organizations will never become great. He says that “leadership is equally about creating a climate where the truth is heard and the brutal facts confronted” (74). So often, schools like these talk about sin, but their real message suggests that they are unwilling to come to grips with their own brokenness. Collins says that an effective leader willingly conducts autopsies without blame. He understands that his organization cannot avoid having problems. He faces the brutal truth of our own brokenness and need. From the outset of his book Good to Great, Collins says that good is the enemy of great, and the school that touts its own goodness, as so many are quick to do, will have hard times seeing its problems. And, as Dennis Hollinger suggests, this cold, dead orthodoxy can then give little attention to affections and actions. This is bound to happen when a school sees truth propositionally only, rather than seeing truth as a Person – Jesus, who was epistemology incarnate.
Yet, a Gospel-proclaiming school moves beyond empty attempts at conformity and denial of its own problems. This school sees education, not as a stepping stone toward good citizenry or economic success, but as John Milton would say, “The end then of learning is to repair the ruins of our first parents by regaining to know God aright and out of that knowledge to love Him, to imitate Him, to be like Him…” (Wilson, 74). Nicholas Wolterstorff echoes this when he says that, “The redemption of people in Christ is the restoration of God’s creation to its intended ends” (31). Learning needs to be such that it eliminates the “two realm theory” of which Christians are so often guilty – whereby they draw a sharp line between those things which are secular and those things which are sacred. In drawing this line, they avoid those things which are not “of God” and ignore the common grace insights that can be found in them. Justin Martyr and Clement of Alexandria saw that the knowledge of Christ did not contradict classical (pagan) education; rather, He fulfilled it (Lockerbie, 46). St. Augustine recounts coming to know God indirectly through the writings of Cicero. Additionally, C.S. Lewis says, “God is more than a god, not less; Christ is more than Balder, not less. We must not be ashamed of the mythical radiance resting on our theology. We must not be nervous about ‘parallels and ‘pagan Christs; they ought to be there – it would be a stumbling block if they weren’t” (67). These men understood that God reveals himself mightily in the works of those who do not believe in Him; the Bible even accounts of God using pagan kings, such as Nebuchnezzar, to accomplish His purposes, and He calls them His “servants” (Jer. 27:6).
Educators have often used the phrase, “integration of faith and learning” to articulate the goal of the Christian school, but a Gospel-proclaiming school might find a better way of stating this. In his inaugural address at Wheaton College (2010), Philip Ryken said that, when we talk about an integration of faith and learning, we assume that they are two different things. Rather, we should talk about the “reintegration” of faith and learning, because they were never intended to be separated. Douglas Wilson reminds the Christian thinker that, “because the Christian worldview is based upon the Scriptures, the students can be given a unified education. This unity is only possible because of the centrality of the Scriptures in the educational process” (68). A unified education understands the way that faith and learning were always intended to be – a unified whole, not individual parts that Christian schools try to stick together.
A Gospel-proclaiming approach to orthodoxy does not shy away from intellectual pursuits, it seeks to redeem them. In Piety and Philosophy, Richard Riesen says that “education is ameliorative and therefore Christian and Biblical in the broad sense” (40). Because of this, the Christian steps into the pursuits of academia, knowing full well that the real pursuit of truth always finds its end in God. This gives the Christian educator and curriculum designer boldness. As Simone Weil says, “The solution of a geometry problem does not in itself constitute a precious gift, but the same law applies to it because it is the image of something precious. Being a little fragment of particular truth, it is a pure image of the unique, eternal, and living Truth, the very Truth that once in a human voice declared: “I am the truth.” (Lockerbie, 360). Thinking this way restores the pursuit of truth back to its rightful place and gives the Christian teacher the confidence to embrace it without apology.
In the same way that faith without works is dead (Js. 2:17), so orthodoxy without orthropraxy is dead. Orthodoxy that lies static is not orthodoxy at all, Frank Gaebelein says, “The Bible knows no such thing as truth that is merely theoretical; in the Bible, the truth is linked to the deed” (35). Martin Luther and C.S. Lewis both call the Gospel vulgar, because they both understand that it deals with real life, physical problems. It deals with real action, and God’s truth has always demanded action. Harry Blamires says,
“The Christian mind is alert to the solid, God-given authoritative factualness of the Christian faith and the Christian church. Christianity has been called the most materialistic religion in history. For, Christianity is so much more than a mere moral code, a recipe for virtue, a system of comfortable idealistic thought … Its God is not an abstraction but a Person – with a right arm and a voice. Its God has moved among us … For, Christianity is a religion of things that have happened – a Baby born in Bethlehem, a body nailed upon a cross. It is a religion of continuing daily action” (111).
Because the Word became flesh, so the Christian educator must live out an incarnational approach to his views. He must put some meat and bones to the beliefs he has; he must give them hands and feet.
We see this daily action from what we know of the outset of the responsibilities of man. Adam was not told simply to love and know God. He was told to radiate through his work this love and knowledge to the rest of the Garden. Adam’s reign over the creation involved the most practical use of the abilities God gave him. As prophet and priest, Adam had certain mandates to fulfill: tend and protect the Garden, and relay the truth of God to the rest of it. As a king, Adam learned how to use the Creation around him to accomplish these tasks. The authority given to Adam placed him in a position where his use of this Creation brought pleasure to him certainly, but he grounded his pleasure in the pleasure of God.
As Adam looked over the creation that God put under his feet, he took great pride in it. God gave the plants and animals to him for his use. Using the creation required that Adam study the creation. Specifically, God said that he could use the plants for food. In learning what to use for food, Adam studied different tastes, textures, and smells. He acquired knowledge of the world around him. Though, this knowledge came, not from a construction, but a discovery (Blamires, 112). Without a fragmented mind, Adam remembered that, while God intended the plants and animals to be used by him, ultimately God created all of these things for His own pleasure. But, God wanted Adam to share in His pleasure. Adam saw the uniqueness that God gave to him. In giving dominion to man, God set him apart from all of the Creation. Schaeffer points out that “Dominion itself is an aspect of the image of God in the sense that man, being in the image of God, stands between God and all which God chose to put under man” (Genesis in Space and Time 33). Recognition of the dominion given to him brought about rejoicing in Adam because his reign flowed from the image of God in him. Reflecting this image brought even greater joy to Adam, because of the One whose image he reflected.
Nicholas Wolterstorff suggests that discipleship is at the heart of this action which orthodoxy requires. He says, “Insofar, then, as Christian education fails to educate for comprehensive faith, insofar as it fails to educate for life discipleship, it fails to be full Christian education” (26). Discipleship requires looking at all of life, and specifically the practices of it, through submission to God. Disciples do not assume the Gospel, because being a disciple means to actually be about doing the Gospel. Painfully, Dietrich Bonhoeffer says, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die” (89). Bonhoeffer clearly sees discipleship as an active response to the claims of Christ, and this response is most defined by dying to self. At times, we think about this in regard to our sin, but pre-fall Adam actually lived a life of dying to self, in that he submitted to the will of God. Even Christ went about his perfect duties in submission to His Father’s will.
Gospel-proclaiming orthopraxy in the life of the school values individual persons as members of the community, because we reflect the relational nature of the Triune God. The school seeks to compensate employees in a way that respects their expertise and honors them as professionals. Its hiring practices seek to treat applicants fairly and communicates with honesty. And, when an individual is seen as a fit, he is hired, and efforts are provided to bring him into the community through comprehensive induction. Members of the school community ought to seek empower one another to be excellent in their fields. Jim Collins says the same thing about businesses which have been most successful: the community respects the individual to the point where they are potentially training their own replacements. Also, as community members continually work to point others toward progress, Fullan says that, to affect change, community members must love one another, connect peers with purpose, build capacity, make learning needs the primary focus, lead with transparency, and recognize that learning primarily happens in systems (119). The Christian educator will, according to contingency theory, also seek to encourage people in positions where they are most likely to grow and lead within the spheres of their influence.
School members ought to make sure that the entire program of the school reflects an orthodox understanding of the purpose of education and has a firm connection to the mission. This mission, though, ought to speak to more than the training of the mind alone, because a Christian school must consider building up thinkers, but also doers – disciples. Harry Lewis says that teaching involves all of the lessons that the teacher passes along to the student, and this includes advising all other forms of student-faculty contact. When a school sees the students as image bearers as well, it considers way to effectively speak to the entire student through its teaching practices, assessments, co-curricular activities, and character building initiatives. Slate, et. al. found that schools who performed higher academically also had mission statements that focused on character development and engaging the students’ surroundings. Clearly, a school needs to encourage its teachers to see the learners as individuals of great value who need more than just information poured into their heads.
As stewards of the responsibility that God has given schools, and in keeping with the call to discipleship, the Christian school must also consider its identity. Jim Collins says that organizations which were able to define their own identity were able to narrow their focus and put their efforts into those things that the organization does best. This Hedgehog principle reflects a school that knows what it does best and what it is most deeply passionate about. Schools that only assume their mission quite often struggle to adapt to environmental changes, because they never evaluated their goals and decided which initiatives they ought to pursue as stewards of the resources that God has given. And, the school must do so within the boundaries of what is appropriate and legally responsible. The school must be above reproach, adhering to the laws of the land, and providing an environment that stifles negligence in its care for its students. It honors its contracts; it does what it says it will do.
Unfortunately, many schools struggle to live as disciples of what God has called them unto, because they underestimate the effects of the fall, and they do not pay close enough attention to what God would call the Christian school unto. J. Budziszewski says, “One of our troubles is plain and practical: we do wrong. The second is intellectual: we not only behave but misthink, not only do wrong but call it right… Our toils to rectify sin are themselves twisted by sin, our labors to shed light on iniquity themselves darkened by iniquity… We cannot fix ourselves. We might as well expect a surgeon to sew his severed hands back on” (11). Yet, we have lofty ideals that education can solve our problems; it can solve the social injustices; it can solve deviant behavior. Even though educational progressives spoke about educating the entire person, they often overlooked the issue of sin in the heart, mind and body of the believer (Drexler 262). As a result, many schools have programs that ultimately do not produce desired results, because they do not deal with the issue at hand: we are broken members of broken communities.
Harry Lewis laments that the educational system in America (with Harvard leading the way) has produced teachers who are less concerned about their students than their own scholarship. He says, “Almost from the moment when scholarship became the dominant factor in professorial appointments, teaching was seen as at best an unrelated skill, and perhaps even in natural opposition (83). Other teachers tend to see students as interruptions, not as opportunities to address heart issues for participation in the community. Doing so denies the sovereignty of God. Other schools show their impersonal connection to students by letting textbooks dictate the curriculum (Drexler, 199). Also, the way that we discuss grades does not help our students see the connection between grades and an amount of information that is learned. They have come to see grades as credentials, but schools allow students to have grades with little attached to those grades. Consequentially, teachers have not provided students with the right perspective in regard to their identities; students fail to see their status before God, because they are clouded by their academic status. Likely, they are not told enough of their profound value which is rooted in the image of the Divine in them. Harry Lewis also laments that 91% of recent Harvard students graduated with honor. He says that many institutions give grades that do not adequately reflect what a student knows, because the colleges want to keep students happy, and they realize that most students are more concerned about their grade credentials than about the knowledge they gain.
Schools must provide an adequate perspective of academic standards to their students. Most importantly, students must see academic endeavors as a way to learn about more about the world and the God who revealed himself in it. They must also come to see standards as absolute things that require excellence. With lowered standards, students are prone to think that they have achieved a plastic achievement, because little has been required of them. This also allows them to easily consider their own merit as acceptable.
Philosophically, teachers often train students to see Christianity as something other than a call to discipleship. Harry, Blamires says, “we have prayed and worshipped Christianly. Then, we have gone back to talk politics with the politician, social welfare with the social worker, labor relations with the trade unionist, and we have emptied our brains of Christian vocabulary (39). In doing so, we teach them that choosing the way of compromise is an acceptable way for Christians to be passive participants in culture. But, one of our greatest philosophical errors here is that schools have not taught students how to talk about their sin. They have come to accept it; they have even come to accept it to the point that they ignore it. Cornelius Plantinga says that “sin is a familiar, even predictable part of life, but it is not normal. And, the fact that ‘everybody does it’ doesn’t make it normal” (52). Yet, we consider our brokenness and idolatry to be acceptable. Doing so prevents us from a clear picture of excellence and joy, because we think that we are acceptable.
In terms of the programs, schools allow students to lose sight of the connection between academics and other areas of the school. Students are allowed to be irresponsible in the classroom as long as their athletic performance is stellar. Schools will honor a student’s academic achievements, even though he shows no interest in actually being a better person. Because we are all image bearers, we cannot neglect the other capacities of the learner for the sake of promoting the intellect. Failure in this area shows that we ignore the way that God has intend us to be. By refusing to hold students to moral, physical, relational, and creative expectations through all aspects of a robust school life schools distance themselves from the image of God that they proclaim.
In the same way that schools have chosen to conform to society, too often schools choose to adopt models that move more toward mere competence rather than excellence. Community members would rather survive, so they do what is most practical or immediate. They relate to their peers, students, leaders, or parents through transactional, rather than transformational, motivators, where they use rewards or punishments to accomplish their goals. Their concern is not so much for real change, but for compliance and how they are benefitted as an individual; they miss the great wonder that comes from learning in transformational community. The entire system breaks down, where people no longer recognize the idea of a learning community which seeks to grow the faculty so that they can invest more into the lives of the students, so that they can become better persons – as God would have them be.
Thankfully, the Gospel speaks to Christ’s victory over a world of sinful practice. Cornelius Plantinga says that the “proclamation of the resurrection of Jesus isn’t nearly everything Christians have to offer the world, but it’s the platform for everything they have to offer (80). Because Christ exercised victory over death in a physical way, the Christian has a confidence that Christ desires His people to be redemptive agents in culture. Plantigna goes on to say that “faith in Jesus Christ includes faith in His program” (95), and we know that His program is about bringing reconciliation to a broken world. Because this is what discipleship means, Christians should be about repairing the ruins of the fall, wherever they seem them. Because, to the extent that the Fall brought about brokenness, Christ’s redemptive plan is cosmic in scope, and Christians are to be about living out our vocations as citizens of His kingdom.
In relating to each other school members ought to live out transformational policies which seek to bring about lasting change. Gordon Brown says that schools can minimize the fragmentation and compromise of standards that are so common place by having teacher evaluation policies that ensure that Biblical principles will be carefully incorporated into procedures. Similarly, supervision and evaluation should be used to motivate teachers toward improvement, taking into account the teacher’s fallen nature, and pointing that teacher toward his need for and dependence upon Christ (84). In the same way, a teacher’s evaluation of a student ought to take into account the sin and brokenness of the students. Jeff Hall adds that being in an educational community “is primarily a matter of incarnation … The recognition of the personhood of all members of the learning community is essential to understanding the nature of effective leadership … It is a live that embodies the turht of the gospel, valuing all people as created in God’s image, confessing sin quickly and plainly, being self-sacrificial and forgiving in reconciliation – thus providing a living picture of leadership” (Drexler, 49).This is not the easiest thing in the world to do; yet, it is a living picture, because it hinges upon a Personal standard who lives today. Christ lives, today. Because of this, the Christian educator has the confidence to challenge the school community to know Christ more fully, and proclaim His work, not our own, because Christ lives. And, when the school community faces failure, the community members can point the school toward the Gospel, because Christ came, that He might fix the brokenness of a fallen world.
In this way, the school begins to proclaim the Gospel, because it acknowledges total dependence upon God – not just as a source of truth, but for the daily provision to be able to know Him, to be about His work, to be called into a relationship with him. The Gospel-proclaiming school is not driven by merit, but by transparency in repentance and by celebration of God’s work. The school desires transformation, rather than transactions, because it sees the goodness of a learning community coming to know God more fully.
This shows up in the way that a school handles its discipline and promotes obedience. A school that proclaims the Gospel disciplines its students out of a desire to see a student brought into right relationship with the community, but it does so in recognition of the sin of the faculty and leadership as well. Frank Gaebelein says that “the acid test of a Christian school or college is its handling of discipline” (91). When schools discipline students in a way that recognizes their value as image bearers, while display understanding and empathy, and they desire to bring the student into restorative, right relationship with the school community, they then reflect a Gospel-driven model of accountability for their students. (Drexler, 265). Many people see discipline and the call to obedience to God’s law as restrictions placed upon the individual. But, “sin traps people and makes them wilt; godly obedience liberates people and helps them flourish…God’s commandments are all pro-life” (Plantinga, 75). The school that seeks to proclaim the Gospel even in its expectations does not promote conformity because of misguided hopes for uniformity among its students or heavy handed demands to reflect school ideals. Rather, this school recognizes the goodness of God’s law and proclaims it as a standard that promotes peace; it also recognizes man’s bent toward rebellion and need for God’s grace to obey.
Transformational community membership requires that the educators understands how the school exists among different systems, receiving and distributing influences across permeable boundaries. Homans recognized internal systems that face external systems. Considering this, the school must interact with the members inside and outside the immediate community in proclamation of the truth that God has revealed in his word. J.P. Moreland says that “an emphasis on reasoning in evangelism makes the truthfulness of the Gospel the main issue, not the self-interested fulfillment of the listener” (132). Though, the school recognizes the individuals and group that it affects, it is more concerned with being true to the Gospel. This should be the main goal of the school when it considers its interaction with its larger community. Schools tend to lose focus and become more concerned with those it affects than with the message it proclaims. Yet, when the school leadership constantly brings the community to revisit its Gospel-centered mission, the school will stay true to a reliable model for education as it ought to be.
At conversion, there is a redirection of the affections, and the school that proclaims the Gospel through its orthopathy engages the community members through beliefs, values and dreams. The Gospel-proclaiming school understands that the learner is more than a rational being or an active being alone. The learner is also an emotional, spiritual being. This school desires authentic, passionate communion with God and seeks to promote a community that celebrates personhood and echoes the psalmist when he says, “my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God” (84:2). The Gospel-driven school understands the necessity of having the affections in the right order, because “the madman is not the man who has lost his reason. The madman is the man who has lost everything but his reason” (Chesterton, 220). Chesterton repeatedly addresses that rationality in a vacuum (isolated from its purpose) results in separation from reality. The reality as God intends requires that individuals treat one another in consideration of what is true, beautiful and good – not just what seems practical.
Nicholas Wolterstorff says that “teaching must always have its face toward the students. It must answer their needs” (20). In a similar way, the teacher’s concern for the affections reflects an understanding of the needs of the individuals in the community. He understands individuals’ needs for self-actualization in his hierarchy of needs. He seeks to promote a community that recognizes different learning styles and works to respond to the community through proven structures like the Five Factor Model: openness to experience, conscientiousness, extroversion, agreeableness, emotional stability. He sees his need to continually evaluate his own practice in consideration of inventories of skill sets, recognizing his own weakness and expressing dependence upon God’s grace. Through differentiation of self, the Christian educator promotes a calmness and patience that allows him to respond to the needs of the community with grace.
Adam’s first recorded words were a love poem spoken at the site of his new bride; this speaks to the vibrant emotive component of personhood. Chesterton suggest that modern attempts to dehumanize people by talking about our legacy as cavemen actually fall apart, because what we most clearly see in these caves reflects a thinking, emotive man – an artist. Chesterton says that, if we are willing to begin with man as man, we see that “art is the signature of man” (32) and the stamp of the divine upon him. In “The Ethics of Elfland” in Orthodoxy, Chesterton goes on to say that we have grown complacent to the beauty around us, but part of our being made in His image means that we are built to be men and women of passion. He says, “For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning ‘do it again’ to the sun and every evening ‘do it again’ to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately and has never gotten tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for, we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we” (264). There is a wonder to life, and even in the daily ritual of school-life, a teacher can miss the profound opportunity to call students, parents, and other teachers to the goodness of knowing God in a new way.
Considering that God takes such joy in His creation, it seems that the Christian school teacher is called to nurture the appetites – the affections. Plantinga says that we should always look to things that can excite our deepest longings (7). Therefore, the Christian school ought to minister to the members of the community in ways that set free the affections and nurture them to fall in accord with God-driven worship. The school committed to Biblical orthopathy continually calls the community to know our truest selves more deeply and respond to Him in expression of who we are. In order to do this, though, the school has to know the members of its community. It has to engage individuals on their terms, seeking to understand their personal needs, strengths and learning styles.
John Donne says that no man is an island, but modern men and women have exalted individualism to the extent that we struggle to see the necessity of communion. In The Four Loves, C.S. Lewis says that we come learn to know God more through the life of another, because we are created as communal beings. Yet, the church has been invaded by withdrawal tendencies (Wolterstorff, 29). In our own tendency toward withdrawal and isolation, we lose the ability to nurture our affections as we ought.
Students prefer to live in worlds of isolation, and our technology furthers this. Students struggle to know how to have personal conversations, because they have grown more accustomed to talking on their cellphones, texting, or Facebook interactions than they are to having real-life conversations. As a result, teachers find greater difficulty in having students give thoughtful discussions in class. Technology teaches our students that they can withdrawal from any unfavorable situation; they can enter into conversations with their cellphones or the worlds of their ipods. So, they do not know how to engage a situation that they would prefer not be in, and this clearly shows up in the classroom.
Faculty are not much different. They rely on email conversations with parents, administrators and other teachers; they would often prefer to have information sent to them via email than have a meeting where the information could be discussed. They prefer to teach with the doors to their classrooms closed. Like their students, they prefer to stay in their own worlds, isolated from the larger community.
We all have come to a point of having weak desires as well. In The Weight of Glory C.S. Lewis says, “it seems that our lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased” (4). In our weak desires, we lose the ability to have the sense of mystery that Chesterton says is so very important to our existence. In this weakened state, we end up putting hopes in situations or ideas that cannot possibly satisfy. Being let down by these things, we respond in frustration or aggression.
Maybe one of the reasons that we miss this most is because of the neglect for conversation about and desire for more intimate relation to the Spirit of God. We talk about God the Father as a mind or author who directs all truth – who is a reference point for all being. We talk about the Son of God as an actor who came into time and space to show us how to live and mightily accomplish what we could not. Yet, we do not talk enough about, nor do we yearn enough for intimacy with the Spirit. The mystery of God and the working of the Spirit to illumine our hearts – our affections – have been overlooked. So, we also overlook the affections, the mystery of our emotions. They scare us to talk about, and in doing so, we hinder a more transparent community.
Our affections are not in their right place, because we looked for peace in the wrong place. We are all worshipers, and if we do not worship the infinite, personal God, we will worship something else. Normally, the source of this idolatry is ourselves. We direct all of our affections toward ourselves. In vain hopes, we interact with people, not in a way that seeks to honor the image of God in them or us, but in a way that elevates what we think will bring us personal peace on our terms.
Yet, the Gospel speaks to people who have their affections moving in the wrong direction. In fact, this is the heart of the Gospel: that Christ Jesus came to save sinners - sinners who are responsible for teaching truth to a group of sinful people. The Christian, though, understands that God has called us to turning to him in a way that seeks to nurture our affections. Plantinga says of this Christian pursuit, “In her best moods she longs not just for happiness, but for joy; not just for joy, but for God: not just for God, but also for the kingdom of God. Because of her enthusiasm for the kingdom, she doesn’t merely endorse justice in the world; she hungers and works for it. She doesn’t just reject cruelty; she hates and fights it. She wants God to make the things right in the world and she wants to enroll in God’s project as her own” (108). This must be true in the way the Christian educator constructs a test, interacts with a disruptive student, follows through with a frustrated parent, or reaches out to the heart of a lonely student. Because Christ came to repair brokenness, a gospel-proclaiming school must be filled with teachers who see every event as a profound opportunity to fix that which is broken. Because there is a God who is sovereign, and because He came into a world to make all things new, there can be no mundane second in the life of the Christian school. This is radical. But, it must be true.
Repentance and Gratitude drive the heart of the Christian school members. They understand who they are and live in ways that reflect a deep thankfulness for the grace that has been shown them. They seek to bring people together in celebration of the grace of God, both saving grace in calling His people to Himself and in having the ability to witness His common grace demonstrated in all of the areas that the school functions.
When members of the school community see the thankfulness and love for the material presented by the school and teachers, they want to join in the community of faith and the community of learning. Douglas Wilson says, “Even when students do not have certain dispositions toward certain subjects, they will be brought to appreciate them because of the love of the teacher – a love for the material and a love for the student” (77). When a school’s affections are directed toward the student through the filter of loving God in thankfulness and loving the way that He has demonstrated His truth through the course of study, the students see this. This is essential, because we do not want them to simply learn information, we want them to see the beauty of the information learned. We want them to grow to see how truth, seen anywhere, makes them more human; for, seeing truth more clearly allows the student to see God more fully, and seeing God more fully allows the student to understand himself more fully. The school must work to promote a community which, through loving relationship, comes to proclaim God’s truth in transparent gratitude.
Thomas Sergiovani promotes the idea of being a cultural leader, and without questions teachers are leaders on so many levels, in and out of the classroom. He calls this the “high priest” model, and this might be a great way of demonstrating the way that the teacher calls a school to doxology by being a Gospel-proclaiming school. Any Christian school can assume the Gospel; and this is what many do. Yet, the school that proclaims Gospel-driven orthodoxy, orthopraxy, and orthopathy through legacy building, teaching the organization’s saga, socializing new members, and telling the stories of the school truly builds a culture which will reflect what God has called us to do. And, in this pursuit, we will find that this is how we were always created to be. As T.S. Eliot says,
“We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time” (p. 59).
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