Ode to Dr. Blackwell

In honor of Clergy Appreciation Month (October, if you weren't aware) Ministry Matters is doing a blog tour and link-up in which pastors and others share about a "minister who mattered" to them. We've got Mike Slaughter, Jessica LaGrone, Max Lucado, Adam Hamilton, Matthew Paul Turner, Grace Biskie, and others blogging over Oct. 1-14, and everyone is invited to participate. What a great way to honor someone who made a difference in your faith and life! Check it out and link up at MinistryMatters.com/blogtour.

I've known a lot of great ministers in my time—from my home church, family friends, and now various friends and colleagues, and of course, my husband! But the person who stands out in my mind is not ordained clergy at all. You don't have to be a pastor to be a minister, remember. Arguably the person who had the greatest impact on my faith journey was one of my religion professors at Furman University, Dr. Albert Blackwell.

Sometimes, when Christian kids are headed off to college, they are warned to guard their faith, to be wary of  those evil, atheist professors who will try to educate their faith out of them. That's a bit of a caricature, of course, and I don't recall a specific warning of that nature from my very moderate faith community growing up—but I do recall that, even though I entered college with the thought of youth ministry as a possible career, I avoided taking religion classes my first semester. Maybe even my whole first year. "Academic study of religion" had a bad rap in some circles, since such classes would expose a person to views of the Bible and theology beyond the "party line" of whatever organization was doing the warning.

Once I started my religion classes, though, I found my whole world enlivened with deeper understanding of the cultures from which the Bible emerged. I was excited by theological discussions, the way different people or groups of people had different ideas about God, influenced by their context and life experience. I recall the exhilarating session of Religion in America with Dr. Helen Lee Turner when we watched a documentary about the ideological shift of the Southern Baptist Convention in the early 1980s and I knew that I wanted to study evangelical and fundamentalist movements in American church history. (And that's what I indeed focused on during my M.T.S. studies at Vanderbilt!)

The religion department at Furman (perhaps unlike many other universities) was full of professors whose faith was part-and-parcel with their scholarship, whose work was fueled by a love for the church and a desire to see it better reflect the God it serves. Dr. Blackwell was no exception to that, but he was exceptional nonetheless. Tall and distinguished, he embodied an unpretentious commitment to Christ and the Christian life. When I picture him, I see him standing at the front of the classroom, a long torso with belt exactly halfway between the soles of his shoes and the crown of his head, feet planted as if thick, tangled roots connected him deep and wide to the source of the wisdom he spoke.

Classes were conducted in-the-round, encouraging discussion of the texts we'd read for the day. I was at first intimidated to speak up, feeling like whatever I said was shallow or unsubstantiated, but one day I made some sort of semi-insightful comment (I don't even remember what it was) and he responded by taking a lollipop out of his shirt pocket and presenting it to me with subtle fanfare and affirmation that gave me confidence to engage further in the class.

His career in religion began when, while finishing his degree in physics at M.I.T., he attended a lecture by theologian Paul Tillich, and decided to pursue graduate work in theology at Harvard Divinity School. With this background in science and math, and a love of music, Dr. Blackwell saw the divine element in all areas of life. Furman was not a publish-or-perish environment, so it is fitting that Dr. Blackwell's most recent book is 1999's The Sacred in Music. He directed the choir at his church and was working with his wife to compose new tunes for the Psalms, I recall. (I see online now he has choral anthems available for free use by churches.) He drew some mathematical formula on the board in class once, and being math-dumb as I am, it was completely over my head, but I recall the lesson was something about how infinity—The Infinite—changes everything.

Dr. Blackwell opened my eyes to Jesus' mandate that we serve the poor and work for justice. My politics did shift in college, as many people's do, but directly as a result of deeper engagement with Jesus' gospel. Dr. Blackwell often used the term "liberality of love" to describe the all-encompassing generosity with which Christ calls us to live our lives. "Liberal" was a dirty word in my house growing up, mainly equated with permissiveness. Rather than a synonym for libertine, I came to understand "liberal" in the same sense a recipe would call for "a liberal amount of vanilla." It's about generosity, compassion, and love for humanity.

Dr. Blackwell's teaching—nay, ministry—had an incalculable impact on my path in adulthood. He contributed to the passion for studying American religion and culture, with which I headed off to grad school and planned to become a professor myself. (My eventual decision not to pursue a Ph.D. is a post for another day!) He instilled in me concern and compassion for the poor that has transformed my Christian life and hopefully will continue to shape all I do. Not least, he also gave me a new set of eyes to see God's presence in the world around me. God didn't just make the trees and the animals—he made the particles and forces that make electricity work. He made all the stuff that is in steel and medicine and everything else that we think of as man-made. His hand is in it all. (This has come to mind a lot recently as Kate learned in school recently how "God made everything," and she comes to me with a random object like a plastic kitchen strainer, asking "Why are there holes in it? Is that how God made it?" Hmmm...)

As I wrote my final exam for Dr. Blackwell's Religious Approaches to Meaning class my last semester of college, I was surprised/amused to find I'd essentially written the same essay for both exam questions. I don't recall the questions, but my answers were both focused on the "middle way," a way of living that keeps a hand on earth and an eye on heaven. The "approaches to meaning" that were too earth-focused were devoid of eternal significance, and those that were based in spiritual ecstasy were "no earthly good," as the saying goes.

I handed in my paper and told Dr. Blackwell how both questions led me to the same answer. He responded sagely, "Perhaps you've discovered the grain of the universe." Indeed; it is more or less my version of the meaning of life, which I tend to summarize with the title refrain from Chris Rice's album "Run the earth and watch the sky."

I'd say Dr. Blackwell is an earth-runner-sky-watcher as well. He strives to make an impact here on earth, investing in the lives of countless students and working for justice through various ministries, always with God in his heart, Christ as his guide.

I was honored to be part of Dr. Blackwell's retirement festivities in 2004, the year after I graduated. The day included a panel on religion and social justice with several of Dr. Blackwell's former students, from class of 1973 to class of 2003 (me), and a musical concert that evening. The only photo I could find beyond the web-stolen one above was, of course, on the page in my scrapbook about the event. Those were the days before my digital camera (and, apparently, before lipstick and eyeliner :0) The little photo to the right was in the Furman alumni magazine, of Dr. Blackwell at the 2003 Commencement, holding a little sign that wished "Godspeed!" to the graduates processing by.

Godspeed to you, Dr. Blackwell. Thank you for your influence on my life and those of so many others. Your ministry matters!
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Blog about someone who made a difference to you and link up at MinistryMatters.com/blogtour, any time before Oct. 14.

Most of What I Know about God, I've Learned from My Children

Most any theological reflections I write are based on something that being a parent has shown me about our heavenly parent. It's true on this blog, but it's also true in the writing I do for work, on Ministry Matters, a website for church leaders. And that's nice, because I can use pics of Kate and Claire rather than purchasing new stock photos to illustrate our articles.

Did you know that 99% of stock photos related to religion are of somebody in a field raising their hands above their head? I'm only slightly exaggerating.

That's why Claire is currently front and center on my author page over at Ministry Matters.

Other things I've written recently include blog posts about the best sermon on sin I've ever heard and my debate over leaving out the scary last couple verses from the passage I preached on a few weeks ago (and the resulting sermon on parenting as an act of stewardship).

There's also an article about a rite of passage experience for boys, which I thought would be like something out of Mark Driscoll's church, but was actually pretty cool. And an article about how my blog friend Kim's hubby formed a unique partnership through which to plant a great new church in Lexington, Ky.

If you or someone you know is in ministry in any way—preaching, teaching Sunday school, shaking hands at the door, heading up a mission trip, or whatever!—I hope you'll share Ministry Matters with them.

And the rest of you can scroll through my previous articles to spot my kids among the smiling stock-photo kids!

Family Values

I recently read this great article online about teaching your children the faith. It was in US Catholic magazine, so "the faith" in that case was specifically Roman Catholic Christianity, but I thought it was great advice for parents of all traditions. The biggest takeaway for me was this quote:

“I always ask [parents], ‘Articulate the three most important values in your life that guide you individually or as a family.’ . . . If you can’t articulate your values, how do you communicate them to your kids?"

I started thinking, and pretty quickly had three values that I feel guide me and that I hope we can instill in our children: Compassion, Gratitude, Faith.

Compassion

Caring for others, especially those less fortunate, is a central value of our family. When we pray at dinnertime, we try to always remember people outside of our immediate family, and I hope that Matt and my conversations that our kids overhear instill a concern for the poor and marginalized of society.

As Kate (and later, Claire) gets older, we increasingly try to involve her in activities focused on helping others. On maternity leave, I signed up several weeks to make the sack lunches we send with the homeless men who stay the night at our church on Wednesday nights. (Nashville has a program called Room in the Inn; folks can gather at a certain place downtown to meet vans that will take them to various churches in the area for dinner, sleep, and breakfast, October through March.) I figured I wouldn't sign up for any more weeks once I was back to work, but the very week I went back, they announced Sunday morning that no one had signed up to make the lunches that week, so I thought, "okay, Kate and I can do it together this week!" rather than me doing it on my own during the day. So I made a little shopping list with marker drawings of the foods we needed to buy, and we went to the grocery after work/school, came home and made the sandwiches together and Kate went down the assembly line putting a sandwich, chips, water, fruit, and cookies in each bag.

We talked about how we were making these for "the men who sleep at church." (She's familiar with them because they eat with us at the Wednesday night dinner.) "Why do they sleep at church?" she asked. "Because they don't have houses and refrigerators with food and all that like we have," I told her. "We're so lucky to have a house and food and everything we have, so we need to help them." It was amazing how in my mind the example was "therefore we make lunch for them," but Kate's response was, "We need to help them find houses?" Even though I'd consider myself more holistic in social justice than just isolated acts of charity, I was still struck to the core by the obvious way Kate assumed that we shouldn't just give them food, we should help remedy the problem.

I'm not great with this value. I struggle to be loving toward people who are different from me. I'm ashamed of how judgmental and prejudiced I can be. But it is definitely something I am always striving toward and that I want to instill in my children.

Gratitude

Gratitude, I'm a little better at. I am very fortunate and certainly take a lot for granted. But I do find myself standing in awe, many times, at all we have and the fact that we have it. I open our pantry and think how fortunate we were to have that food. I get in the shower and think how amazing it is that we have a room dedicated to bathing and have hot water whenever we want it. It's mind-blowing, if you think about it. I am so thankful to have our house and to have it be ours. I think of my grandparents whenever I give thanks for our home because it was the savings they left behind that enabled me and my cousin to purchase our homes. We are so, so fortunate.

Like any parent, I try to get Kate to say "please" and "thank you," and she does especially well with the thank you, even from the time she was just doing baby sign language for it. Lately, she has developed a habit that I just love. She often asks me, when playing with a toy or looking at clothes in her closet, "Who gave me this?" I love it because it shows an awareness that all she has didn't just appear out of nowhere. Her grandparents, our friends, and people in our church are extremely generous with her, and I love that she seems not to take it for granted. She asks who gave her something, I tell her, and she responds, "oh. That's very nice of them."

My mom drilled it into me to always write thank you notes, and while I realized the double standard somewhere during my teen years that kids were expected to write thank yous but adults rarely did, I've kept up that practice as an adult. I'm trying to get Kate involved in the practice as well now, and while of course she can't write, I mix in one or two of the following as a way to make her aware of the importance of expressing gratitude when one receives a gift:

• having her be present while I'm writing the notes, addressing the envelopes, etc. 
• having her choose which stamp should go on each envelope 
• having her color a picture to include in the note (or color on the card or envelope itself) 
• having her choose which picture each person gets 
• asking her what she thinks about the gift so we can say something personal from her. We tried this with her birthday thank yous and she often just said "thank you," or "I like it," but it's still a good practice, I think, and will grow gradually to the point she can write the whole note herself.

Faith

Compassion and gratitude are both related to our faith, certainly, but the faith itself is also a key value (as you can certainly practice compassion and gratitude even without being a person of faith). There will come a time, of course, when our children will have to claim the Christian faith for themselves, but we make it known to them that, as a family, we are Christians. We baptized our girls because they belong to God even before they can understand or choose it for themselves, and we are promising to raise them to know God and live like Jesus.

At this age (Kate's, that is) we try to help form her Christian identity by talking about why we go to church  ("to praise God and learn about Jesus," I typically phrase it) and we pray together at dinnertime. Kate often wants to be the "prayer person" (which is apparently what they call it at school, because she told me today "I'll be the prayer person; you be the line leader") and she'll have us repeat after her,
God is great, God is good, 
let us thank him for our food
by his hands, we are fed
thank you, Lord, for our daily bread
In Christ's name, Amen.

When I repeat after her, I'm sure to enunciate, so that if she's just going rote, she can understand better what we are saying, and I remind her that "Christ" is another name for "Jesus," since she knows who Jesus is but probably does not understand the messiah concept or the Greek word for it.

We believe questioning is a good thing, and doubt is not to be feared or squashed, so by instilling "faith" as a value, we certainly do not mean blind acceptance of a particular doctrine. Rather, it is an overall orientation toward God, a desire to seek and know him. There are plenty of theological things I don't understand (or maybe even believe) but I am committed to the journey of faith, and hope our children will be too.

I have a well-known prayer by Thomas Merton hanging by my desk, and there are two lines that I cling to, when I don't know much else:
"... the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you."

I hope to instill in my children that desire to follow, please, and know God, and pray that that desire in itself helps them along that journey of faith.


What would you say your top three life-orienting values are?

A Real Baby

My best friend and roommate in college did a lot of interfaith studies, and I remember her telling me about a visit she made to a Hindu temple for their celebration of a certain deity's birth. Like many churches during Advent and Christmas, they had a display featuring the infant deity on which to focus their attention and celebration. But unlike the beautiful crèches that have the fancy Jesus-dolly laying in a manger lined with gold lamé, the the Hindu worshipers had the figurine in a swing.

Like an actual, metal and plastic Graco swing. Like many of us have in our living rooms to rock our actual, human, 21st-century-born babies.

It struck us as a fascinating choice and raised interesting questions about the way we think about Baby Jesus. Those manger scenes that we display on our mantles and that people fight to keep on courthouse lawns are so beautiful (well, maybe not those cheap plastic light-up ones) but I wonder if they paint too quaint an image of a pretty, peaceful birth and infancy, and one very distant from our own experience with babyhood. We picture Mary kneeling glowingly beside the makeshift cradle and even if we recognize the roughness and filth of the stable (animal waste—hello!) we probably still don't think about the bodily functions and things that Mary—like any new mom—would have been dealing with. Breastfeeding, spit up, pee and poop...

Three years ago, when I was eight months pregnant with Kate at Christmastime, I reflected a lot on Mary's experience of expectation, feeling the baby move within her, etc. This year, with a newborn at Christmastime, I've thought more about these basic things of infant care that we often never think about Mary doing. I've sat there feeding Claire and thought about Mary nursing the Son of God at her breast, staring into his eyes and wishing her sweet baby a life of health and happiness . . . before he spits up all over her or her other boob leaks milk through that nice blue robe she's always shown wearing.

Kate—like most small children—doesn't see Jesus or the nativity with the unearthly glow that we do, though. She knows that Christmas is Jesus' birthday and that our depictions of Jesus at Christmastime are of him as a baby, and having watched me with her baby sister these last six weeks, she knows what babies do. She demonstrated for us at dinnertime last night, bringing the figures from our "nice" nativity (i.e. not her wooden Melissa & Doug one or the wooden Advent calendar with its rudimentary nativity scene) to the table and playing with them. Not wanting to perpetuate the idea that Jesus is untouchable (even if it meant the figures might get broken, which they didn't) I let her keep playing with them throughout the meal.

And what did she do? She put the tiny, two-inch Baby Jesus figurine on her shoulder, patted him, and said "Jesus needs to burp." She laid him down on the table, lifted his bottom, and said, "I need a wipe. I need a diaper." She even held his little mouth up to Mary's chest so he could eat.

She got it. The nativity means that the Messiah was born as a real, human baby, and all the stuff that brings with it. It was the beginning of a life through which God experienced the roughness of life on this earth. Through which God was with us. Immanuel—God with us. Immanuel doesn't just mean glowing, awe-struck wonder. It also means wet burp rags and dirty diapers.

Jesus Loves All the People

If you don't already read the blog The Church of No People, pop on over and check it out. Today, Matt Appling announced he is working on a book (not with Abingdon, so this isn't a personal plug!) and he is asking for readers' answers to a couple questions about raising children in the faith--whether kids from your youth group fell away from church as adults, whether your parents taught you about religion or left that to the church, and how confident you feel in your own ability to teach your children about Christianity (or if you will leave that to the church). I will respond to polls and surveys of any kind, so if you are like me and enjoy putting in your two cents, go do it!

What I really want to share today, however, is what I told Matt A. in response to his third question, about raising our own children in the faith. Given that (my husband) Matt and I are theologically educated, work in the church and church-related fields, and our faith is central to our lives, I feel pretty confident in our ability to educate our children about the faith, the Bible, and teach them to think deeply and critically about moral and theological issues. We hope that such guidance will instill in them a deep faith that will permeate their lives.

So far, though (since Kate is only 18 months, after all) the extent of Kate's theological education has been in the way I change the lyrics of "Jesus Loves the Little Children" to "Jesus Loves All the People." Kate has one or two children's Bibles, but since they are not currently in the rotation of four or five books she wants to read over and over, all the live-long day, I don't think those are informing too much of her thinking at this time. And of course, we take her to church, but it's just the nursery. (Actually, there is a children's Bible in the nursery that she requests over and over each week. I guess since the church doesn't have certain barnyard- and body part-oriented books, the Bible just has to suffice there!)

My half-joking comment about changing the song lyrics actually does say a lot about how religious education in our house will probably go. Matt and I think and talk about religious issues a lot, mainly in response to current events, news stories, blog posts, etc. as we take in the world around us and process it through the lens of our faith. I wanted to sing some of the Bible-songs I learned as a child to Kate, and "Jesus Loves the Little Children" came to mind, but I feel bothered by the way we sometimes care about poor children or children in foreign cultures, but seem to think that since adults are "responsible" for their situation, we don't need to love and assist people of all ages in need. Thus, "Jesus loves all the people / all the people of the world / red and yellow, black and white / they are precious in his sight / Jesus loves all the people of the world."

One day, we will talk with Kate about those words and what they mean. We will talk about First Amendment issues when they come up on the news, and about how Jesus would respond to people living on the street. We will talk about our relationships with God and the big questions we all wrestle with. The church is important in its own ways, but for raising a child in the "way s/he should go," I don't think a few hours a week can compete with the day to day life we share at home.


How do/did you nurture faith development in your children when they were very young?

My Favorite Blogs

As I look through my Google Reader each day (via its little app square on my iGoogle homepage) there are some blogs I am always excited to see. Obviously, everything I add to my Reader is there for a reason--be it entertainment, professional enrichment, professional networking, or just keeping up with friends--but some I am always eager to click on first, because I know they will bring something fun, funny, or cute. (I know "insightful" and "thought-provoking" should be up there in terms of valuable content, but what can I say? I'm a sucker for cute baby pictures and interesting life-updates.)

So, here are five of my very favorite blogs. They are all much more widely read than I, so they certainly don't need any publicity I could offer, but you, dear readers, may just want to click on over and become their millionth and million-and-oneth readers and enjoy their writing as much as I do.


Kelly's Korner (http://www.kellyskornerblog.com/)
Kelly Stamps' daughter Harper was born two weeks before Kate and spent several weeks in the NICU from some unforeseen illness at birth. (Talk about scaring me to death--her pregnancy was totally normal and then the baby nearly died after birth.) Harper recovered and is now a totally healthy 9 month old. I love watching her grow and comparing (even though I shouldn't!) her milestones and all with Kate's, since they are so close in age. I also enjoy living the stay-at-home-mom life vicariously through Kelly. Her posts are mainly just day-in-the-life updates about what she and Harper are up to on their adventures to play groups and baby showers and other fun things. Kelly is extremely southern, so her writings on the Arkansas Razorbacks, Walmart, and down-home cooking are all very entertaining. Her frank discussions of her years struggling with singlehood (she was 33 or so when she married, I think) and then infertility, and her constant prayers for young women still dealing with these things are very touching. And Harper is famous for her giant hairbows. (Those of you who tease me for Kate's bows--you ain't seen nothin' til you read Kelly's blog!)

The Mom Creative (http://www.themomcreative.com/)
I discovered Jessica Turner's blog when my husband Matt told me that the wife of Matthew Turner (author and acquaintance through the Nashville Emergent Cohort) had a scrapbooking blog I should check out. That was about two years ago, I think, because Jessica wasn't even pregnant then and now her son Elias is 15 months old. It has been fun to follow Jessica through her pregnancy and early motherhood, all about six months behind her. Elias being that nice interval older than Kate helps me learn what to expect and fun things to do or try when Kate gets a little older. Jessica works in marketing and PR, and applies the same interest-generating genius to her blog, so she has fun giveaways, interesting parenthood discussions, ideas for creative memory-making, etc., plus the awesome scrapbooking that drew me to her site in the first place. (She also has an online class at Big Picture Scrapbooking about scrapbooking your baby's first year. I signed up for that and would recommend it to others.)

Milk Breath and Margaritas (http://www.milkbreathandmargaritas.blogspot.com/)
Like Jessica Turner, Amy is also a working mother, blogging in the precious spare time she steals around board meetings, day care pickup, and crazy evenings with her two little boys, nicknamed "Shark Boy" and "Honey Bear." My favorite posts are "Shark Bites" and "Bear Bites"--basically her version of "Kids Say the Darndest Things." Those boys are hilarious. Amy posts pics of her awesome wardrobe and shoe collection, so the less stylish among us can live vicariously through her sophistication. She is also a great writer, her sentimental reflections on motherhood feeling more poetic than sappy. Read this blog for great photos, recipes, fashion inspiration, and snarky, witty commentary about modern motherhood.

Cake Wrecks (http://www.cakewrecks.blogspot.com/)
This is--in my humble opinion--the funniest thing on the Internet. I can't even remember how I discovered it, but enough other people love it that they have a book out now, highlighting (as the subtitle says) "when professional cakes go horribly, hilariously wrong." The blog and the book feature photos of bakery cakes with typos, bad grammar, unintentional innuendo, general stupidity, and general ugliness. Apparently a good number of grocery store cake decorators (AKA "wreckorators") are on crack. A fan favorite is the Father's Day cake that says "Happy Falker Satherhood." Huh? Some wrecks are the result of hyper-literalism in reading the order, as is the case in the cover image for the book: a cake reading "Good Luck Suzanne / Under Neat That / We Will Miss You." This site seriously makes me laugh until I cry.

Slacktivist (www.slacktivist.typepad.com)
Ok, this one actually is "insightful" and "thought-provoking," but it's also funny. Of the various commentary blogs I read on religion and the church, I find most of them boring. I know that's sad, given my profession and academic background, but I also have a short attention span. I started reading Slacktivist just on Fridays, when he does his snarky but incredibly insightful commentary on the Left Behind books. Covering only a few pages at a time, he dissects the theology, eschatology, moral framework, writing style, and everything else about LaHaye, Jenkins, and their bestsellers. In the past few months, I've started reading his everyday posts as well, and they are just as smart and snarky as "LB Fridays." The current focus of his scathing critique is the Conservative Bible Project. Fascinating!

Learn the Globe

I received a review copy today of a new book from Westminster John Knox called 99 Things to Do between Here and Heaven. I admit I rolled my eyes when I first saw it. The cover is a little cheesy (especially given that “stand in a field with your arms outstretched” is not one of the 99 things) and I was unsure of the concept. Having now leafed through it a good bit, I have to say it looks awesome, and I think I’ll try to use it to prompt some new spiritual endeavors.

Some, I’ve already done, like “observe Ash Wednesday,” “gaze at the night sky,” and “read the Bible from cover to cover,” Some I’ve done but have never assigned spiritual meaning to (like “give blood”) so next time I do, I may read that page of the book and use its reflection prompts to sort of “pray the experience,” reflecting on the healing and life-giving value of the blood and praying for those who might receive my and other people’s donations.

One item that may sound odd as a spiritual exercise is “learn the globe.” I was really happy to see it on there because this is actually something I’ve been doing lately with great spiritual intentionality. Matt introduced me to a website called sporcle.com (tagline: Mentally Stimulating Diversions). It is basically a website full of timed quizzes challenging the user to do things like name all the presidents, all the books of the Bible, all the Kentucky Derby winners, etc., as well as more pop culture type things like name the actors that played certain guest roles on Friends, and name all the historical and cultural items rattled off in the song “We Didn’t Start the Fire.” (I can actually do that, by the way. My dad walked me through the lyrics to that song once to raise my cultural awareness, and it was actually very helpful in a couple history classes in college and grad school!)

Sporcle also has map quizzes, which I have always enjoyed and been pretty good at. I had U.S. state flash cards as a kid and in high school memorized the placement of the Scandinavian countries with the mnemonic “New Shoes Fit” (Norway, Sweden, and Finland, from west to east). Sporcle’s Europe map quiz is fun for me because I can do it pretty easily. Couple the fact that I’ve traveled over there numerous times with Americans’ natural western orientation and European countries come pretty easily. I still miss things like Andorra and San Marino, but I don’t feel too much shame in that since they’re so tiny they don’t even show up on the map!

Recently, though, I’ve made it a discipline to do the Africa quiz over and over, trying to learn the names of these countries we so easily lump together in our minds. Sure, we know Egypt and South Africa, but can we point to Uganda or Burundi? I want to do this to increase my global awareness. I was starting to feel like if I haven’t even heard of a country or can’t find it on a map, it means the people who live there don’t really matter. I’ve improved a lot in the last couple weeks, going from being able to name 24 out of 53 to 29, then 33, and now 44! Places like Benin, Comoros, and Cape Verde still generally skip my mind, but I’ve now got Lesotho, Seychelles, and Guinea-Bissau (ones I originally didn’t know at all) down pat.

Making myself more aware of at least the countries’ existence—even if not their cultures or languages—helps open my heart and put a little bit more of a face on some of God’s children that are often overlooked.