The Loss of Conventional Wisdom

It has been a while since I have written here. I was waiting for inspiration and the right time to “have something to say” rather than “having to say something.” Those things are radically different.

Well, my inspiration finally came from an unexpected place. This means, as usual, the upcoming series will require a disclaimer since we live in a world that likes to make assumptions rather than give the benefit of the doubt. (Is that another series waiting to be written? Maybe!)

At any rate, I bumped into a series of videos by Mike Rowe. It was promoting a scholarship program funded by an initiative he calls the SWEAT Pledge. The pledge is a written covenant of twelve commitments a person is willing to make, and they “buy” the pledge to hang on their wall with the donations going to a scholarship program. You can read about the program on your own; I am not writing to promote Rowe’s program. Whether you support or not, that’s none of my business.

What struck me was the content of the twelve videos that outlined the commitments contained in the pledge. They were full of what I would call “salt of the earth” conventional wisdom. They are things I desperately want to share and teach college students; they seemed to resonate with the soul of what I want to impart to young adults as a professional campus minister.

Having said that, I was taken aback by the source. Mike Rowe is the creator of Dirty Jobs, but he is also a relatively significant online personality — and not one I typically agree with, particularly when it is addressing political and social issues of the day. I rarely find his voice to be helpful. But in this case, I feel like his videos for the initiative nailed it. I have always been committed to celebrate truth wherever I find it — no matter the source — so I decided to eat some humble pie and share the information. I will be doing that in the posts to come.

But it also caused me to reflect for weeks on why these truths were so powerful for me. And I thought of two things: wisdom and my dad.

First, there is this idea of wisdom. One of my favorite teachers loves to talk about the ideas of pre-conventional, conventional, and post-conventional wisdom. Human beings all experience the idea of pre-conventional wisdom. This is immature wisdom, usually experienced during infancy and childhood. Pre-conventional wisdom would say, “I don’t want to go to bed; I want to stay up all night.” It is not really wisdom at all. It masquerades as wisdom but is really foolishness. Of course, as we grow, we move into an awareness of conventional wisdom, the idea that all human beings need sleep and have to get sleep every night. This is wisdom — standard, straightforward truth. But some will move into post-conventional wisdom. This is wisdom able to look back on conventional wisdom, break down some of the structure, question the assumptions, and move to transcendent wisdom. Perhaps this is the person who becomes even more aware of controlling their sleeping patterns and rather than simply “getting sleep” every night, they are very intentional about the sleep they do get and engage sleep in a whole other way.

While the easy way to see this truth is in our childhood, adulthood, and continued maturity, we often struggle with this development culturally, financially, socially, and spiritually — well into adulthood. I have watched plenty of full-grown adults indulge pre-conventional wisdom at will.

The nature of my job and my desire to be a lifelong learner means that I often find myself dwelling in the realm of academia and study. It is a world filled with wonderful thought and critical engagement of our culture. I eat deconstruction for breakfast. It is a world dripping in self-proclaimed post-conventional wisdom.

And in that space we start to sound (and act) like idiots.

We need to return to good ol’ conventional wisdom. We need to remember the things that are just true, built on common sense, and provide a foundation on which to grow toward healthy critical thinking. This is what I found so refreshing about Rowe’s take on this upcoming generation of young adults: his blue-collar, common-sense work ethic is full of wisdom I struggle to impart to my educated student base. I was drawn to that.

Second, this made me think of my dad. As I watched these videos, I kept thinking, over and over again, “My dad taught me this.” One of the biggest things to strike me as I’ve matured is how thankful I am for what I never realized my dad was giving me. This SWEAT Pledge, created by a communications genius, was common knowledge and daily living for my father. As I have wrestled with these truths in the last weeks, I have also realized how important the little things, the everyday occurrences, are in our family and our parenting. It’s the small, mundane opportunities that teach us things like faithfulness, attitude, and hard work.

I’m so thankful for what faithful parents, mentors, and instructors have taught me through the underestimated acts of character and integrity. It is for these reasons that I introduce this series.

And since we’re talking about wisdom, it might be right to remind ourselves of where wisdom comes from. No matter its form — pre-conventional, conventional, or post-conventional — all wisdom comes from one place. Ultimately, it is not our parents, nor our study and learning, nor Mike Rowe. It is from the very mouth of the LORD. May the words of Proverbs 2 guide our critical thinking along this journey.

My son, if you accept my words  

   and store up my commands within you,

turning your ear to wisdom 

    and applying your heart to understanding— 

indeed, if you call out for insight 

    and cry aloud for understanding, 

and if you look for it as for silver 

    and search for it as for hidden treasure, 

then you will understand the fear of the Lord 

    and find the knowledge of God. 

For the Lord gives wisdom; 

    from his mouth come knowledge and understanding. 

He holds success in store for the upright, 

    he is a shield to those whose walk is blameless, 

for he guards the course of the just 

    and protects the way of his faithful ones. 

Then you will understand what is right and just 

    and fair—every good path. 

For wisdom will enter your heart, 

    and knowledge will be pleasant to your soul. 

Discretion will protect you, 

    and understanding will guard you.

A DAY IN THE LIFE: Personal Time

For a summary of what I’m hoping to accomplish in this blog series (in the second week of every month of 2018), I recommend reviewing my explanation here.

“OK, Marty, but what do you like to do for FUN?”

I get this question a lot when I talk about my life. It’s a good question and it’s important for all of us to find space to do things that we love — personal space built to refresh us and let us simply be who we are, unplugged.

This part of my life used to be a lot larger, that is for sure. Some of that is OK. I love my job and find it incredibly fulfilling. There are many parts of my job that don’t feel like a job at all. Moments when I get to teach, preach, or speak to a group of people are awesome times that fill up my tank. It is what I am made to do. I also find that whatever free space I have is going more and more to my children. I think God is teaching me to be OK with this. I’m not sure any alternatives are the right option. My children are becoming my joy and that is just fine.

However, it’s still important to make sure you don’t always have to be “on” all the time. In years past, I used to enjoy major commitments to different video games. I had a long, long affair with World of Warcraft that than turned toward Star Wars: The Old Republic (yes, I was an MMORPG guy) and I’ve had my seasons where I flirt with Skyrim or Call of Duty, but those are short-lived. Too often as I’ve grown older, these relatively brief seasons turn into watching different TV shows or documentaries.

I do enjoy the Cincinnati Bengals whenever I can (which isn’t very often the way that they play).

And I have some other vices that involve tobacco pipes and distilleries, but we don’t need to pull that apart here.

One favorite hobby of mine comes around each fall and involves solitude, silence, and beautiful mountain scenery — hunting. I recently finished another season of hunting and enjoy this annual activity so very much. I love fall/winter, I love the mountains, I love the practical nature of filling my family’s freezer with meat that I harvested myself and can be confident was taken and butchered humanely (I am not trying to offend my vegetarian brothers and sisters; I respect you very much). I enjoy guns and the sport of hunting (while not acting like common-sense gun legislation is a ridiculous conversation). [My goodness, why all the disclaimers? What a world we live in.]

At any rate, I do make space for personal enjoyment. I love lots of things, but I also love hunting and here is my short video. (Don’t worry, there’s no bloody animal at the end.)

A DAY IN THE LIFE: Real Life on the Palouse

For a summary of what I’m hoping to accomplish in this blog series (in the second week of every month of 2018), I recommend reviewing my explanation here.

One of things that has defined my weekly work presence over the years has been my family’s relationship with Real Life on the Palouse. It’s been an incredible blessing to have a church family that we love as much as we do here on the Palouse. Those of you who know me know that I don’t qualify as “normal” (easy with the jokes). The church has often struggled to know what to do with those who lie outside the bounds of typical. But RLOTP has been incredibly accepting of me and all of my quirks; there are days when I still can’t believe the level of involvement they’ve encouraged (not just allowed) us to have.

Becky and the kids love serving in the children’s ministry here. They have been a fantastic encouragement to my children, identifying their ability to lead and encouraging their involvement at every level of the ministry. They treat my kids as true volunteers, inviting them to the same events and awards they would offer to any other volunteer.

When I first arrived on the Palouse in 2011, I was certain I would not be welcome in the faith community. Instead, I was ushered right into staff meetings and invited to staff retreats; I was immediately given a seat at the RLOTP table and was never forced to “earn” a voice at the table. I found my first place to serve as I always have in church — behind the drums. I enjoyed helping lead worship on almost a weekly basis for the first few years.

Eventually, I was invited to fill the pulpit for a Sunday when Aaron was gone and that led to a place on the teaching team. For years, we have met for what we call “Sermon Club,” a weekly get-together where we plan upcoming sermons and sketch out the message for the upcoming week. We share ideas and give feedback on how to design each message and what we think might be important. It’s a wonderful practice. Obviously, preaching and teaching are my greatest joys and most prominent gifts, so I love to get to use them on a regular basis. I know I’m playing my part in the body in a way that blesses others.

We have served the community in different ways throughout the years — leading small groups and helping establish accountability and mentoring — but what I mention above has definitely been the places where we have found our home as members of RLOTP.

With recent changes to my job and the increase in my travel schedule, I have had to continue to step further and further back as I do the things my position requires. This has been one of the most difficult things to navigate in living here on the Palouse. I suppose this kind of connection is a good thing and a testimony to the kind of family we have. I have made some of the deepest friendships I have ever had in my life here in this body of faith, and I’ve experienced acceptance like never before.

Here is a video diary of my weekly time at RLOTP:

A DAY IN THE LIFE: Family

For a summary of what I’m hoping to accomplish in this blog series (in the second week of every month of 2018), I recommend reviewing my explanation here.

I started my last post in this mini-series with a statement on discipleship: “It is the most meaningful work that I have done in over 17 years of ministry.”

Let me now write a post about the most meaningful thing I have ever done (and will ever do) with my life: family. I realized that I should have followed the February discussion on travel with this discussion on family. One of the most common questions I get about my travel schedule is about the impact on my family (and rightfully so).

I wish I could say I’ve always had the perspective that I mention above. Beyond simply giving lip service to the idea that “family is most important,” it is something that the weight of parenting and fatherhood continues to teach me. I also wish I could in any way imply that I’ve gotten really good at this whole “putting family first” thing, but rest assured — I cannot make such a claim.

But I can say that my recent change in vocational role and its accompanying demand on travel has become a gift. Because I am home less often, I am far more intentional about the times when I am home; I find I am much more present as a father and a husband these days. And here comes another wish: I wish it didn’t have to be that way. I wish I could be as intentional about my family time no matter what my schedule looks like. How frustrating that has been!

But about all that wishing. I find that parenting and husbanding (is that a word? [Editor’s note: Not yet.]) from a place of guilt, shame, and regret is simply exhausting. Our lives are full of “should haves” and “ought tos,” and I know that for most of us, those feelings hide most prominently in the world of family. (Can I get a witness?) I want to parent and husband from a place of overflow and freedom — a place of joy and wonder. So let’s resolve to leave all of those “I wish” statements where they belong… apparently right at the beginning of this post.

About intentionality with my wife. I have begun to learn how to ask questions about her needs and her perspectives. I’ve even learned how to ask those questions not just because I’m trying to “do my duty,” but because I really care about understanding how she feels. How has she felt about my travel? How does she see my efforts to parent? What does she see about my stress and energy levels? What does she dream about for our family and our marriage? I wish it hadn’t taken me almost a decade of marriage before I figured out how to do this well (and I still have so much further to go). Oops! There’s another one of those wishful statements!

About intentionality with my kids. When I’m home, one of the first things I do is schedule into my week two things: quality time with my kids (sometimes together, sometimes separately) and time to help coach them in their extra-curricular activities. While Becky carries this load when I’m gone, I think it’s really important to find time to be present as a dad in those areas of life. I want to hang with my kids to have special time to cuddle and do fun things. I also want to be there to encourage Zeke in Cub Scouts and guide Abigail through her pursuit of the violin.

I’ve found that this intentionality has given me things to celebrate, rather than simply wish for. And I’m grateful for that.

Here is a fun video diary of some of the things we got to do over the last few months: