Convocation Address: "Setting Your Face"

Sept. 5, 2024

Students, for convocation, my practice has been to speak specifically to you. That's what I'm going to do today. If our faculty, staff and guests wish to listen in, well, that's just fine. Let me tell you where I'm headed over the next 10 minutes in this message about risk and resolve and bravery: This is not a talk about any of the immense hardships and tragedies some of you have endured or are enduring. I know some of those stories. This is about college life, its ups and downs, and what you might encounter. I want you to be encouraged. You arrived here already with gifts and talents that this community will help you to grow and develop. And we can be certain that many moments will arise over your time as a Whitworth student that will require you to set your face, to be determined. You can. Why do I believe that? Because you have personal agency; because the soil at 300 W. Hawthorne Road is the type of soil in which you can thrive; because you have a community of faculty and staff who accompany you through a Whitworth experience; because you have a God who is "with" you; and as a result, I am confident you will depart this place as an antidote for a world that needs some Whitworth graduate therapeutics. All that follows, hear as an endorsement of you.

I've displayed instances of cowardice in my life too many times to count. I'm still afflicted. As a 4-year-old, I recall fleeing a theater during "Dumbo," terrified by those pink elephants on parade. I especially recall an act of childhood cowardice that followed from a January 1970 incident. I was 7, a second grader in Ohio. My classmate and friend, Gwen Tanko (with a k; you can't make that name up), lived three doors down from our house. On this January day, the snow and air temperature were just right for making snowballs. And Gwen and I got into a bit of a snowball fight. At some point she had had enough, and Gwen bolted through her open garage, with the clear motive of escaping into the house through a garage doorway. I anticipated that, quickly made a snowball, and winged it from about 30 feet at that door. Even at that age, I could sling it. My aim was perfect, but my timing was off by just a split second to nail Gwen as she raced into the house. But my timing was perfect to drill her mother, who was exiting the door into the garage. Mrs. Tanko took a moment to . . . express her displeasure. With a piercing voice, she yelled, "Kid, if I ever see you again . . ." I didn't hear what followed, because I fled. The problem for me was that my best friend, Scott Leonard, lived another five houses down from the Tankos. His house, yard and cul-de-sac was the place to play. It was the neighborhood gathering place. My route to his house required me to pass by the Tankos. "Scott's house; Mrs. Tanko; Mrs. Tanko; wiffleball game at the Leonards." And so, for the next year, every time I rode my bike to Scott's house, one house before the Tankos', I would turn my face to look across the street and away from the Tankos, and then one house after, I would set my face back towards the Leonards. I tried to convince myself that if I faced away from Mrs. Tanko as I pedaled by, I was safe. The problem didn't exist. Thankfully, we moved to California one year later, and I never saw Mrs. Tanko again. And she never saw me.

Students, on the way to your many destinations at Whitworth and beyond, you will have to set your face, routinely. There will be times in this "becoming" sort of process, you'll need to take a risk, to have resolve, to be brave. And you can be.

You know, the notion of risk wasn't something in our terminology until the 1600 and 1700s when capitalism emerged. Risk is that concept where you're weighing the chance that a return on investment will be less than expected. Risk involves protecting ourselves against bad outcomes. And for sure, it's clear that risk-taking and fear are linked. Too little fear might lead to doing stupid things, maybe physical injury after uttering the words, "Hey, guys, watch this." But too much fear inhibits our goal-setting. What if I fail? What if I talk and say something that sounds dumb or uninformed? What if they don't like me? What if I acknowledge where I've fallen short? Tough things in our lives are inevitable. So, how might you make choices, and have a considered will, to face whatever challenges confront you?

In the text you heard, Luke 9:51, we read about the moment that signaled the end of Jesus' presence in Galilee. Galilee was that place where Jesus had crisscrossed the lake and where he had ministered in surrounding villages. This is the moment in Luke where Jesus moves towards fulfilling his purpose in Jerusalem, the place where he will be arrested, tried, crucified and resurrected. That language, the "resolute setting of his face," is a metaphor for determination. How unspeakably hard must have been that destiny that lay before Jesus. And about that journey to come, the text conveys his dedication to embrace and pursue what lay ahead. You get the picture of unwavering determination and perseverance.

As I read that Luke text, I wonder about the loneliness setting in upon Jesus' face. Before him lies this unimaginably demanding task and towards a hard destination. And the route to Jerusalem went through Samaria, an unwelcoming city, even though he could have taken a safer, but longer, route around it. But that hardest place, where Jesus set his face, was where the will of God was to be done.

So, how does all this apply to you, students? In this place where there will be joy and friendships and achievements, and plenty of them. There will be ifs and unknowns. There will also be some hard places through which to go. There will be times when you will have to set your face. There might be some Samarias through which to pass. My encouragement, is to do just that: Set your face, accompanied by these good and noble people, sitting with you, in academic regalia and dressed for work. Why might you do that?

1. In this place, where we will integrate our Christian faith in all we do, you won't be shielded from occasional intellectual discomfort and dissenting views. But in this place, you will become even better equipped to navigate complexities and the world. This kind of experience will compel moments of resilience. That was the same for me 40 years ago. It was true for each of our kids, now in their 30s. It's true today.
2. Whitworth soil, academically, socially, relationally, it's sometimes akin to what vineyardists know: That for the best grapes, you don't always plant in gentle soil. They plant vines in clay soil because the clay resists the vines, and the vines grow stronger as a result. Sometimes the soil here will feel like clay, but that is not a bad thing. Shirley Mullen, President Emerita of Houghton, says that this type of education "requires the courage of humility, a willingness to wrestle with complexity, and sometimes just rest in the mystery."  
3. I have really good news: These people who have chosen to teach and work at Whitworth, they aren't "people of the balcony." They are "people of the road." There's a difference between those on the balcony and those on the road. Picture the people on the balcony. They observe you; they watch you; they are distant from you; they don't involve themselves in your lives. People of the road walk with you; they consider it a privilege to be on your path, wherever it's headed. Students, they accompany you. These folks who teach and advise and mentor; who process your financial aid; who ensure your facilities are cared for. They are people whose shoes evidence the dirt and gravel of the roads you travel at Whitworth, together.
4. At times, for one another, we function like what Quakers call "clearness committees." Those circles of people you can trust, but who don't tell you what to do. Instead, they ask you questions, they help you process your thoughts and emotions, and perhaps help you to see things more clearly. These are friends who can even help you set aside your fears of showing weakness.
5. That the center of this place, for 135 years, has been a God known by many names, one of which is Emmanuel – God with us. That "with" is the very best preposition ever uttered or received. This God who promises never to leave you or forsake you. This god who created, who spoke, who acted. And in that "with-ness," Scripture is rife with stories where God's presence is there in whatever we must face. Now, that's not to suggest that the lessons learned are worth what caused them. But the Lord's "with-ness" is there when we have to muster up the courage to face whatever wilderness we might find ourselves in.

Here, now, here, when we need the courage to move toward hard things, Jesus and our caring community go with us – explaining the challenges, welcoming our questions, showing us humility, and extending grace to those who reject us.

I'll close with this, adapted from theologian John Stott: Students, set your face, risk, be brave enough to be an antidote for what ails the world. At this time, when we create laws because we cannot trust ourselves to treat one another justly; where we have locks and bolts because doors are not enough; where we have contracts because our words and promises are insufficient; where we tend to examine ourselves so charitably and others so critically. Set your face to living out a sometimes inconvenient experience and way of being. Here, where your mind and heart and character are shaped to honor God, follow Christ and serve humanity, in accompaniment with your classmates and this faculty/staff community, who share in those moments when you have to set your face. Amen.