Both my children are acquainted with tragic death because of their college experience. Back in February we took our son to see Houghton College, and during the Chapel service we heard an unusual speaker -- a student -- describe the aftermath of his room-mate's suicide a year earlier. I was surprised at the subject, given that we were among many other parents and prospective students that weekend. And indeed, later we heard from the college chaplain, who described the difficult decision to highlight such a sorrowful event when so many visitors were there. He and others in the decision-making process believed it was appropriate to demonstrate how they as a community responded to tragedy, and how God worked through grief to bring healing. I agree with their decision, as did my son. He plans to begin his freshman year there this August.
My daughter just graduated from Seattle-Pacific University. A week before graduation, a troubled young man entered a campus building and shot 3 students, killing one of them in the latest episode of school shootings. We knew this tragedy would have to be addressed during the graduation events, and it was. In each of the three official graduation traditions ("Ivy Cutting," Baccalaureate, and Commencement), speakers walked the fine line of acknowledging the tragedy and the response of the community, along with the celebration of graduation. They wanted to share both the grief as well as the joy, and they succeeded.
Houghton and Seattle-Pacific are very different schools, both in size and in context (rural and urban), but they share the identity of Christ-based communities. I'm thankful my children have received and are receiving the benefit of more than just excellent academics: they have the privilege of being part of communities that genuinely care for the students who make up their respective populations.
Tragedy is unavoidable, and so the way in which our community -- whether it's a school, a congregation, or a neighborhood -- responds demonstrates the quality of our faith AND our relationships. "Weeping may remain for a night, but joy comes in the morning" (Ps. 30:5) -- especially when we are surrounded by those who will weep with us.
My daughter just graduated from Seattle-Pacific University. A week before graduation, a troubled young man entered a campus building and shot 3 students, killing one of them in the latest episode of school shootings. We knew this tragedy would have to be addressed during the graduation events, and it was. In each of the three official graduation traditions ("Ivy Cutting," Baccalaureate, and Commencement), speakers walked the fine line of acknowledging the tragedy and the response of the community, along with the celebration of graduation. They wanted to share both the grief as well as the joy, and they succeeded.
Houghton and Seattle-Pacific are very different schools, both in size and in context (rural and urban), but they share the identity of Christ-based communities. I'm thankful my children have received and are receiving the benefit of more than just excellent academics: they have the privilege of being part of communities that genuinely care for the students who make up their respective populations.
Tragedy is unavoidable, and so the way in which our community -- whether it's a school, a congregation, or a neighborhood -- responds demonstrates the quality of our faith AND our relationships. "Weeping may remain for a night, but joy comes in the morning" (Ps. 30:5) -- especially when we are surrounded by those who will weep with us.
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