Grad beatitudes

I dug out some of my journals from high school recently. One page had the title “The Life of a Grade Twelve.” It was just two lines: “I can’t say anything. I’m too busy doing homework.”

In another section, I describe babysitting a sack of potatoes for a week to practice being a parent in Family Studies class, which honestly years later gave me some pretty unrealistic expectations for taking care of a newborn.

Tonight is a moment for reflection. You’ve finished exams. You handed in your volunteer hours, paid your ledger, returned the Chromebook you borrowed when yours broke, and took off your uniform for the last time. You no longer have to creatively illustrate the main character’s motivation in clay and glitter for English class, or make a life size model of a molecule for Chemistry out of jello and silicone. Congratulations! You did all of that.

Earlier tonight, some of your aunts and uncles and long time family friends were in the parking lot, scribbling a few final messages to you in the graduation cards they picked up at Shoppers Drug Mart on the way here. They had five minutes and three inches to fit all their love and advice into. Hang onto those cards. Those are the people you’ll be calling in the future when the alternator on your first car breaks down.

Those are the people who might sign off with, “God bless you.”

What do they mean by that? It’s both less and more than we usually realize.

Hashtag blessed

You are not blessed in the ways you imagine. You are not blessed in the ways that the internet means blessed.

You are not blessed when you find a parking spot near the mall, when your favourite hockey team makes the playoffs, when you plan an outdoor event and it doesn’t rain.

You are not blessed because you took home a medal in volleyball or because you found a great deal on your outfit for tonight or because that thing you ordered online came just in time.

You are not blessed because you’re having a good hair day or because of where you might travel this summer.

You are not even blessed because your parents paid for Christian education or because your teachers at Durham loved and cared about you and poured their heart and soul into teaching you, though those are all true. Those are good gifts to help you go forth and do good.

But you are not blessed because of anything you’ve done. And you’re not blessed because of things that have been given to you.

You are not blessed by things, full stop.

Jesus has a different metric, and it’s so countercultural that even as Christians we get this one wrong. I get this one wrong. We hashtag bless all the wrong things.

Foxholes

Jesus says, you are blessed when you’re at the end of your rope.

You are blessed when you’ve lost something dear to you.

You are blessed when you care about other people and when you cooperate instead of argue.

You are blessed when you’re content with who you are, and when you work up a good appetite for God. That’s how Eugene Peterson translates the Beatitudes in The Message, and that’s the type of blessing I’m talking about.

Let me add a few more – until we see blessings everywhere, not just in the shiny parts of life!

You are blessed when you’re at the back of the line, at the top of the risers, at the bottom of your class. You are blessed when today is harder than yesterday.

You are blessed when life throws another curveball your way, when you’re just treading water, when you have no one to talk to, when your cat is sick, when your cousin is in the hospital, when you run out of money, when you run out of hope.

You are blessed in those moments because those are the moments you’ll feel God’s presence.

Those are the foxholes of life from which you’ll cry to God for help, and those are the times you’re going to feel his loving kindness surround you.

Eyes to see

Here’s another excerpt from my journal:

“Today was my last day of high school. I’m in a cynical and abstract mood. But – I’m not as sad as I thought I would be. It’s time to move on.”

Graduates, do you feel that way? Are you ready to move on?

In the future, you will hear a lot of advice that boils down to: make money. Get famous. Become powerful. You might already feel some of that pressure to succeed. It’s in the very air we breathe, I get it.

Unfollow as much of that as you can. A life of meaning comes from the Creator’s advice, which boils down to: seek justice. Love mercy. Walk humbly with your God.

I hope Durham has given you eyes to see God at work in the world today. I hope you find a community of faith in the places you go in September. I hope you find good people to go out for coffee with. I hope you text your parents a lot and come home once in a while.

I hope life goes smoothly and nothing ever goes wrong for you.

But when it does, see if you can flip over the world’s expectations and find in that experience some measure of blessing.

You are so loved

One last story. When our daughters Robin and Alba were young, ages six and four, they were talking in bed when they should have been sleeping. I went upstairs to tell them to be quiet.

“Robin is teaching me about bugs!” Alba said happily.

“Can I whisper something to you?” Robin asked. So I leaned in. She said, “I’m making most of it up.”

Dear graduates of 2023, wherever you find yourselves next year, don’t forget how much you are loved, by everyone here and by the God who made you.

Don’t forget that you are held up by God’s hand in the foxholes of life and in the moments of celebration, like tonight.

And don’t forget the best kept Secret of Adulthood, which I can tell you now that you’re done Grade 12 – every one of us is making most of it up.

Congratulations and may God bless you.

This editorial is adapted from a speech that Angela, CC’s Editor, gave on behalf of parents at Durham Christian High School’s Grade 12 graduation on June 23 in Bowmanville, Ont. Her daughter Robin was a member of the graduating class.