An Ode to Friendship.

Tonight--the third of January, 2006--friendships claimed their rightful place as the most joyful part of my life. Truthfully, I should reflect more often on the quality and significance of my friends. What greater gift has been given on this earth? Romantic love is in a category of its own; but what is romantic love if not the pairing of deep friendship and its physical expression?

Tonight, however, I give thanks for platonic friendships. The fine gentlemen with whom I shared this evening have been close since our sixteenth birthdays arrived with their promise of first-car freedom. High school served us with the formative years of our friendships. We waded through the endless bouts of high school drama, and we shared the savory taste of intramural glory. And we'll never forget our forays into petty vandalism. Since high school--heartbreaks, victories, changes--we've shared them all. In my understanding, our group is an anomaly. Very few of my college friends (and dear friends they are) share a similar treasure. Each semester ends; I pack up and head home. And home is a blessing--I am insatiably indebted to my ever-loving family--but how many of my college friends cant wait to see there high school buddies? So after enjoying my family's company, my mind turns to the reunion of "the boys."

As I have often said, there is no place I would rather be than at the lakehouse, with the boys, on the dock, smoking a cigar, (having a beer...helllooo 21)--talking about life, love, God, and the meaning of life. Sound cliche? Come sometime. Its not. There is no room for cliche. Either the dock is too small, or we are too tight.

Winding roads hide the lake and disconnect it from the outside world. Being in each other's company sheds any pressures or strains. All pretense is lost as we tell the same stories, and occasionally stumble into a new one. Its the comfort of these friends that yields real laughter--the kind from way down inside--the kind that shakes the dock and sends ripples out over the lake. What joy there is in friendship!

December.

December arrived with its traditional fury. November’s mild evenings and chilled nights slipped into chaos. Beautiful chaos, but chaos nonetheless. The snow blanketed everything, and my bike is only moderately helpful for getting to class on time. At least twice before the end of the semester, count on seeing me tangled up in my stylish 4-speed Cruizer along the icy sidewalks. If you see me coming, your best bet is to bob and weave (though a simple stop-drop-and-roll should probably suffice).
Of course, the true fury of December lies not in the cold, the snow and the travel; rather, it lies somewhere between Dr. Brown’s notorious final in Sentence Strategies and the remaining twenty-seven pages I have to write before next Wednesday. The twenty-four hour period between 12 a.m. and 12 a.m. somehow shortens in December. I’m not sure exactly how much time drops off the clock, but I know I’m always one spell check shy of the full twenty-four hours.
And then come the ingredients that really make this month challenging. December means Yuletide drama. For the sake of brevity, all issues regarding Christmas and its accompanying “festivities” will be lumped into one category--“Life.” People of all predicaments are lured into situations that seem perfectly…jolly. Yet "Merry" Christmas rarely translates into holiday cheer for all. I dont mean to spoil Christmas; I like Christmas, but December can be rough.
But this year, I say, “December, Do your worst.” Snow. Ice. Dramaterize.
The way I figure, December provides the next big lessons for a life in pursuit of God. Welcome to December. I intend to stay.

A new phase of Blogging: Round Deux

As I said in the previous entry, I have begun a new phase of blogging. I call it "Actually Blogging". We'll see how often I am able to put these out; these letters were written in a class, but I wrote them about topics I cared about. So, without further adieu, this letter was originally written to the Dean of Chapel, the great Steve Lennox but passed on to you for your feedback. Let's hear it. What do I miss?

I have been a member of the IWU community since the fall of 2003, and since that time, I have faithfully attended every Summit week. As I write this, I am unable to attend this evening’s service due to an athletic competition from which I am returning. To my knowledge, today is my first day failing to make it to Summit though as I pointed out, my absence is involuntary.
I was in attendance for both sessions yesterday, and after pondering the experience, I have a few questions. The services yesterday were certainly moving, and the speaker communicated a heartfelt message about convictions and their impact on our lives. But, for all my appreciation, the emotionalism of the service seemed awkwardly familiar. Obviously, the purpose of Summit week is always to refresh and refocus, therefore the services aim to produce similar results. Yet, as my friends and I discussed Summit ‘this time around’, I realized that I wanted more.
In fairness to the speaker, I should mention that he addressed the very issue I initially wanted to criticize—he discussed the importance of finding friends to go through life with. That point has been conspicuously absent from all the previous Summit speakers we’ve heard. On another evening, we prayed together, as students and as friends. And what a blessing it was! Still, all of these things took place in a very ‘Summit-like’ atmosphere, with voice inflection and finger picking on an acoustic guitar in the background.
I’m reminded of Oswald Chamber’s warning in My Utmost for His Highest: “Beware of a surrender which you make to God in an ecstasy; you are apt to take it back again.” Emotion is central to our functioning as human beings, and it can certainly be used (and is used) to mold us and break our hearts back in tune with God’s. The correct place of emotion in worship is not an issue which I wish to solve; however, I feel that a concerted effort should be made to find a Summit speaker who is willing to forgo powerful, emotionally driven messages of rededication. These are effective and serve a noble cause. But what a blessing it would be if the Summit week could be a time for quiet, determined journeys into discipleship! I wonder how many students would cease to be confused and discouraged in the following days as the emotion departs and the grind recommences. Let’s bring in a speaker who is less a speaker and more a teacher. Let’s bring in a teacher who is primarily concerned about whether we grow, not how we feel.

Thank you for lending your ear to a concerned soul,

Sincerely,


Luke Helm