Categories
Enjoying the Process

Et Liberi, Et Libri

Do my kids keep me from being productive?

They could, perhaps, and I used to lean more toward that irritation. I prefer quiet for reading and writing, for study and sermon preparation, you know, for the “important” work. But, along with being married and talking with my wife, my kids give me a greater reason to think about things and figure out how to say them. In other words, I may not crank out more words, but God uses my kids to crank me.

Nietzsche used the Latin pun aut liberi, aut libri, “either children or books.” He made the word play about what survives, to legacy through library or through progeny. I don’t know for sure whether he meant to pit them against each other, as if we could only choose one. But whatever he meant, why not both?

Some people—think your stereotypical ditch-digger—need to find some time to read (or listen to) good books. Some other people—think your stereotypical seminary student—have a moral obligation to have kids and spend more time with them. I write for my kids (whether they read it or not, now or ever), and I am learning from them. This relates to my thoughts about all that I’m learning from helping to start a school. I have a life from which to speak, rather than wrongly acting as if speaking is my life.

Most productivity books, writing books included, talk about setting up cognitive space, as in actual spatial spots (in a study, a barn, a coffee shop), that prepare the mind to think deeply and creatively. Get away from distractions. Tell others you aren’t available during that time. And sure, if you have the luxury to choose your cup of tea, drink up. But isn’t art often identified by the constraints? Aren’t some of the best artists the ones who can succeed within the constraints? Then why can’t the “constraints” that come along with responsibilities such as fatherhood enable better flavor?

Jonathan Edwards wrote some profound things, like down near the bottom of mankind’s depth. He was a deep dude. Biographers record that some days he spent thirteen hours a day alone in his study. On occasion he would leave the dinner table, which was still full of his family and guests, in order to go get back in his “zone.” While I strive to honor God with all my affections and industry, I no longer assume that such effort and energy is separate from my dad life, it’s more rich because of it. So let’s adopt the Latin phrase into et liberi, et liber, “both children and books.”

For some additional thoughts, read A Bad Equation by Austin Kleon.

Categories
Lord's Day Liturgy

A Principal Ornament

Our elders are continuing to read The Supper of the Lamb and, in the chapter we talked about at our last meeting, Capon described how “a husband’s hunger is one of the principal ornaments of his household.” Too big a lunch means he’s not ready to be grateful for whatever his wife has prepared. Hunger is a sauce that sweetens even bitter things.

What kid wouldn’t love coming to the table to hear his dad talk about how he’s been looking forward to this meal all day? This isn’t dad being angry if the food takes a few minutes longer in the oven or if the menu is different than what his wife originally planned. He’s satisfied in anticipation, giving thanks before any bites because he knows what’s gone into the preparation.

I am very encouraged at how many of the young kids among us—I’m thinking in particular of those who are old enough to walk and talk but who haven’t been baptized yet—those who see what’s happening, who want to partake of the Lord’s Supper. Of course they could be doing it because it looks like a fun snack. That’s not what it is. But I would rather have that mistake for a while than the mistake of them not wanting to do what we’re doing for a long time. “Look at all those miserable, fearful people. I don’t want anything to do with that.”

Fathers and mothers who come to the Lord’s Table hungry for communion with their heavenly Father and with their spiritual family are showing that this is a table of joy. We know what went into preparing it, in heaven and on earth. May another generation see our glad hunger for Christ and come to love hungering for Him too.