Kathy Lindholm-Leary
San Jose State University
Nestled in the forest are hidden springs, bursting forth with torrents of water when winter storms rage, trickling along to nourish flowers and wildlife in its springtime, and parched in its summer. Even when blinded from our view, the hidden springs survive, because it is God’s hand that empowers such springs to move through their seasons of life.
We have seasons of teaching, service and writing responsibilities that ebb and flow and surge like the springs: seasons when our professional, spiritual, and personal lives feel enriched by the blessings God has given us ; seasons when our behavior nourishes the lives of our students or colleagues in small or profound ways; seasons when grants, reports, publications, conferences, and committee meetings consume us; seasons when we question what God is doing or whether He’s even there.
Each Of These Seasons
I have passed through each of these seasons at various points in my professional and personal life, though I must admit that the season that dominates my life is the winter storm surge. I tend to be a type A personality and get so wrapped up in work and its related responsibilities, taking on far too many tasks than is reasonable, that I get carried away with the torrent before I even stop to realize what I have done.
I have reaped many rewards, both personal and professional, as a result of my productivity. However, when I look at what happens to streams and rivers during torrents, I also see that some objects in the path get scarred or obliterated: health, family life, and friendships. Jesus knew that, which is why He always made time to withdraw to pray and connect with God. He knew that storms not only wreak havoc in real time, but they can leave one weakened and over time parched.
In my own life, being too busy has sometimes resulted in less time devoted to spiritual growth, and sometimes to downright stagnation. In those times, I was certainly less effective in ministering to others as well. Other times I have not grown as a Christian faculty member because I felt isolated and not sure how to exercise my faith on campus.
For a long time, I believed in the so-called separation of church and state, and it was a good excuse not to tell students or colleagues about my faith, though I did live it out in my behavior toward others. Being a more introverted person also made it more difficult for me personally to reach out to other students and colleagues.
He Guides Us
However, just as God guides the lifecycle of hidden springs, so He guides the seasons and paths in our lives. He helps us with our teaching and writing and creative thinking. He guides us in making morally correct but unpopular personnel and other decisions, and helps us deal with the pain that can result when our decisions lead to diminished collegiality and friendships.
Sometimes He brings us hurting students and colleagues to talk with, pray with, or to invite to our homes. He brings students who simply need to see that there are Christian faculty on campus, and that they are not alone.
Sometimes He grants us perspective. I was lamenting to my son that I did not feel like I’ve done much when I look at many of the professors I have read about who lead many students to Jesus (e.g., Professors Who Believe: The Spiritual Journeys of Christian Faculty edited by Paul Anderson). My son’s loving response reminded me that God does not compare us; God merely asks us to carry out the role He gives us, and that role will be consistent with the skills He has given us.
My husband and I are enjoying the hidden springs that God blessed us with on our forest property in Oregon, but even more, I am appreciating a glimpse into all that God has done in the seasons of my life and the promise of continued guidance and nurturance.
For He who has mercy on them will lead them, even by the springs of water He will guide them. Isaiah 49:10
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© 2008 Kathryn Lindholm-Leary Used by permission of Faculty Commons