Author: Brent Baccala

Brent is the webmaster of freesoft.org and can be reached via email at cosine@freesoft.org
Posted on

Philosophy of Christian Education

I write from the perspective of a teacher, one who has taught principally adults, sometimes adolescents, and never children. I write from this perspective while remaining aware that the ultimate responsibility for the education of children lies with their parents, aware also of the passions aroused in parents whenever issues of child rearing are discussed.

I will note only in passing those unfortunate and, unfortunately, too common, occurrences when parents dispute and disagree, perhaps even to the point of divorce. Family, teachers, schools and courts are then placed into the unwanted but unavoidable position of arbitrating between father and mother to determine what is best for their children. Instead, for this essay, I will limit myself to those happy cases where the parents agree on the educational course of their children, and further agree that a Christian education is desired.

It does not follow that the students must be Christians.

Especially in primary and secondary school, the parent, not the student, is likely the driving force behind the enrollment. Furthermore, adolescents are transitioning to adulthood, and not only may be asking philosophical questions about the existence and nature of God, but are also making more assertive and independent behavioral choices.

…Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have…

1 Peter 3:15

So the Christian teacher, as St. Peter advises disciples in general, should be prepared to give answers to questions of faith, in addition to whatever the lesson plan happens to be for the day.

Granted, then, that the teacher is a Christian with a personal relationship with God and a personal testimony that is compatible with the parent’s expectations, how then, to prepare students in a Christian school? What, first and foremost, is the goal?

Jesus came to them and spoke to them, saying, “All authority has been given to me in heaven and on earth. Go, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all things that I commanded you. Behold, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

Matthew 28:18-20

Thus, the ideal teacher is not only a Christian, but a disciple, because it is for discipleship that we seek to prepare our youth.

A disciple may not be a professional teacher. A disciple could only be a professional teacher if called predominately to that vocation by God, and none of the great historical disciples were. Neither Moses, nor David, neither Peter nor Paul, not Benedict, not Francis… none of them were professional teachers. Perhaps Martin Luther came as close to a teaching vocation as any great Christian disciple, but I still argue that Luther’s role as a theology professor at Wittenberg was secondary to his greater calling in life.

So, the ideal Christian teacher is a disciple first, and a teacher second. One could argue that the ideal Christian teacher would be both, but that would relegate everyone on the previous paragraph’s list, from Moses to Francis, to secondary status. Perhaps we could use them as subs.

I do not claim that there are no disciples called to serve as professional teachers. I merely point out that many are not, and because our primary goal is to train the youth as disciples, a disciple, even if not a professional teacher, is preferable to someone who has been teaching calculus for twenty years but has no real sense of being guided by the Holy Spirit. I further contend that your “average” Christian disciple (whatever that may be) will have a greater calling in life than simply teaching mathematics.

So, the ideal Christian teacher is a disciple in the strongest possible sense, possesses a mastery of the subject material being taught, is capable of teaching both discipleship and the subject at hand, and whose views on questions of morals and dogma are compatible with those of the parents, who bear the ultimate responsibility for the upbringing of their children.

Adolescents, “vacillating between infancy and youth” (Octavio Paz), are fully capable of leaving home, getting a job, or just living homeless on the streets. Yet their parents continue to support them, provide them with shelter and nourishment, arrange for their continuing education, and the adolescents generally accept this arrangement. Why? Life, in its brutality and its beauty, in its love and its violence, in its glorious success and its crushing failure, is, for them, yet something that mostly passes by on the television screen.

“I’m dropping you off in downtown L.A. with no money and just the clothes you’re wearing, son. If you need food or shelter, pray to God. He provided for Haggar in the desert.” (Genesis 21)

For better or for worse, few parents are prepared to make this offer and few adolescents are prepared to accept it. Perhaps it’s better, after all, for the adolescent to wait a few more years, perhaps until their early twenties, before deciding whether to take Jesus up on his offer to sell all of your worldly possessions, give your money to the poor, and become a disciple of Christ (Luke 12).

In the mean time, those of us who have made that choice wish to present it as what it is: the most important decision of any human being’s life. We do not wish to neglect discussing it, nor do we wish to sugar coat its consequences. Neither silence nor spin is acceptable. Of what do we wish to inform adolescents?

A ground study of the Bible is essential. Those of us raised on the stories of Abraham and Moses, of Ezekiel and Elijah, of Jesus and Peter might tend to take this for granted. Everyone knows the Bible stories, right? Well, not everyone, at least not until the stories are told, and without a sense of where you’ve come from, how can you develop a sense of where you are?

Some knowledge of post-Biblical Christian history is important, too. It’s been two thousand years since the last of the scriptural texts were written, and a lot has transpired here on planet Earth. While nothing should supplant the teachings of the Messiah as authoritative truth, young Christians should know something of how the church has evolved over the centuries, of Benedict and Francis, of Martin Luther and of Mother Teresa. The schisms of those years must be mentioned too, at least so as to understand the Aryan controversy or the Church of Later Day Saints.

These topics can be handled, perhaps are best handled, in the context of Sunday School or religion classes. Yet it seems counter productive to present spirituality as a specialized discipline, something as unexpected from the history teacher as a lecture on photosynthesis. That would present Christianity as a career choice, rather than as a life choice. So for practical guidance on how to live a Christian life, as well as creating a school environment where Christian virtue is displayed, the entire faculty should be Christians, and Holy Spirit should move in their lives.

To achieve this, perhaps it’s best to regard Christian education as a ministry, and the Christian school as a mission. From this perspective, the students are junior disciples in a Christian community, a community that should take time to pray and worship together, to seek God’s will, both individually and collectively, as well as developing private prayer, personal discernment, and spiritual guidance. Worship services, fellowship, prayer retreats, mission trips and evangelism seem not only to be good ideas, but essential components. Ideally, a Christian school should be but one ministry within a fully developed Christian community, so that the students may witness and learn from fully developed and functional discipleship.

Discipleship. Mission. Community. An overriding sense that God must be in charge. These are the guiding concepts of Christian education, just as they guide Christian life.

Posted on

Arraignment

I made my second court appearance today. John and Margie came with me, even though it was only an arraignment. I pled not guilty, asked for a public defender to assist me, and was given a date in late July for a pretrial conference.

I then walked down the hall to a different courtroom where an actual pretrial conference was underway. Looks like I can expect a trial date in late August.

John and Margie have earlier trial dates, probably because they actually spent several days in jail before John’s mom paid his bail and Margie got her conditions of release modified to let her return to Town Square.

We haven’t actually returned to Town Square, at least not for a 24-hour sit-in. We’re meeting with our lawyers in two days, and I want to discuss getting a court order prohibiting the city from arresting political demonstrators for trespassing.

We’re also preparing flyers to hand out, describing our plans and goals. Ideally, a trial in two months would lead to a renewed occupation, with a court order in hand to prevent further arrests. If the flyers are successful, maybe we’ll have thirty people by then. Maybe we’ll have three hundred!

An incident later in the afternoon underscored why I’m determined to stage a revolution. The three of us were relaxing in Delany Park when two police officers on bicycles pulled up and told me to unplug my cellphone from the outlet, which was only for park employees and permit holders. “It’s called theft of services”, he said.

I complied and later complained to the city ombudsman, but there are so few places where I can use electricity that working on the website, porting Macaulay 2 to Android, or writing on this blog requires real ingenuity. I’m developing Android applications which I publish for free on the Internet, but I can’t keep the phone charged to do it.

I’m done! Done! DONE with this leadership! Christians are so PERSECUTED in this country!

No more! No more of this! Please, father God, no more of this! I can’t even work on my website, the hatred, the hatred, oh God, no more of this, please God, no more of this.

Almost every morning and every night now, I beg God to either restore this revolution or take my life. We’re supposed to love each other, and all I have in me is hatred, hatred, hatred for this majority.

What is the plan? We convince three hundred thousand people to pack up, move to Alaska, and BECOME the majority.

Posted on

Day 11

Night 11 found the site unoccupied for the first time, with me sleeping at my campsite and John and Margie in jail.

I got a late start to Day 11, slept in until 9, spent an hour at church drinking coffee, and didn’t get to the site until almost two. I wanted to get there earlier, but everyone who knows me well knows that I’m notoriously unpunctual. It also took me a while to decide on a course of action.

I sat on the sidewalk, in compliance with the trespass order, but I entered the park to preach, and I intend to preach every hour, on the hour. I preached at two o’clock, on the dot. I want everyone to know what has happened to John, and I am absolutely screaming for revolution against this indifferent majority and their tyrannical democracy.

I’m also calling on people to occupy Town Square.

I preached again at three, and at four, and at five.

After my five o’clock sermon, a friend stopped by, the man who donated the sleeping bag on Night 1, and I went to his apartment for my first shower in two weeks. We worked on some math for a while, then he gave me another sleeping bag (a prayer answered!) and drove me back around nine o’clock. I went to bed at John’s campsite, which is a lot closer to downtown than mine.

Posted on

Day 10

Night 10 brought a police raid at eleven o’clock sharp.

I had gone on a beer run and came back running. About a half dozen police officers were gathered around our site in front of where John and Margie were seated under the tarp, refusing to move. I quickly jumped onto the grass so that I, too, was on park ground. I was given a few minutes to gather my belongings and leave. I gathered only my phone charger and announced my refusal to leave, as John was announcing his. Once they put the handcuffs on, I walked out of the park under arrest as John and Margie were carried out behind me.

Everything was confiscated. I’ve been through this once before, though John has dealt with it ten times. I also managed to keep my sleeping bag the first time, but no such luck on this night. We were transported to jail, where I participated in a telephone interview with the magistrate. Perhaps “participated” is too strong a term, since I said little and the magistrate proceeded to offer me release on an unsecured bond, which means that I’ll only have to pay if I don’t appear in court or violate the conditions of my release, which include not entering Town Square. I was only asked to sign an agreement to appear in court, however, which I did, and was released around 1:30 am. John was held overnight.

I had an audio recorder running and made an hour and a half long recording of the arrest.

On the way out, I met two prisoners sitting in the entryway, one of whom was talking on his cell phone. After he hung up, I asked if we were allowed to sit there in the warmth. He suggested that I just sit there and enjoy the warmth, which seemed like good advice, so we sat and talked until a correctional officer came out and told us to leave. My friend had another trick up his sleeve, however, and we simply walked down to a different entrance where we were able to enter, duck into a vacant restroom, pray together, and rest for about two hours before being discovered and evicted by more correctional officers.

My friend then found an unlocked prison bus to shelter us from the light snow that was falling, but I decided to walk into downtown and soon encountered a disabled car. The driver’s only problem was a lack of gas or money to purchase it, so I helped him push it to a nearby gas station and gave him the $3.65 I had in my pocket. He thanked me profusely and I continued my walk.

I spent the next few hours wondering around downtown Anchorage until Side Street opened at seven, and I went in for coffee and a warm place to sit and write this blog. In the afternoon, I attended John and Margie’s bail hearing, where Margie refused the conditions of her release (stay out of Town Square) and John was required to post a $150 bond, which of course he does not have. Both remained in jail, while I retreated to my campsite near the university for prayer and much-needed sleep.

Tomorrow’s a big day.

Prayer requests: Guidance, guidance, guidance. Put your words in my mouth tomorrow. Stay with John and Margie, abide with them, Lord.

Posted on

Day 9

Night 9 was John and Margie’s second. With rain in the forecast, we prayed for shelter, and a tarp appeared! A visitor stopped by to share and pray, then drove by half an hour later to drop off two nice blankets and a tarp. John and Margie had taken the evening off, and by the time they returned at eleven, I had strung up the tarp between three trees and a stake. No trouble from the police.

Woke up to a steady rain pit-pattering on the tarp. Now there’s even snow in the forecast! We talked some more about what message to paint on the tarp, and seem to be settling on “Christian Revolution”.

    rev·o·lu·tion

    1. a sudden, radical, or complete change
    2. a fundamental change in political organization; especially : the overthrow or renunciation of one government or ruler and the substitution of another by the governed
    3. activity or movement designed to effect fundamental changes in the socioeconomic situation
    4. a fundamental change in the way of thinking about or visualizing something : a change of paradigm {\it the Copernican revolution}
    5. a changeover in use or preference especially in technology {\it the computer revolution; the foreign car revolution}

    Merriam-Webster Dictionary

Which is exactly what I’m trying to achieve! A Christian revolution in Alaska; fundamental changes in the socioeconomic situation; a society where “Give to anyone who asks” is a core value; leadership that serves God and not money; disciples who “give up everything that (they) have” valued instead of persecuted.

If the United States wants a Christian revolution, great! Otherwise… God bless Alaska.

Posted on

Day 7

Joe and I occupied Night 7. At first, I was going to sleep under the tarp, had packed all of the signs under it, and was actually in my sleeping bag when Joe showed up! I didn’t have room under the tarp, wasn’t going to tell him to sleep on exposed, bare concrete, and certainly couldn’t leave him in the park alone. So the signs went back up, I gave him my coat and blankets, and I slept in the bag, which was colder than I thought it’d be! Some road work awoke us around 4 am, and I got up and put on some long underwear from the suitcase.

At first I thought that Day 7 would be a day of rest, but it turned out to be a day of preparation. John Rodda, from Parks and Rec, showed up mid-morning to politely read me the riot act. The police have amble photos now of me and others sleeping in the park, and police action is implied. We have to sleep on the sidewalk.

After reading a chapter from Ezekiel, I went over to Side Street Cafe to charge my batteries, both physically and mentally, and met John and Margie drinking coffee there. Told them about Rodda and was blessed with a cup of coffee from Deb. Went back, read more Ezekiel, and worked on the phone until it went dead.

Over lunch at Downtown Soup Kitchen, Francisco explained how the 99% are going to hell, actually I think he said 99.999%, but I could be off by a nine or two. Then back to the park, where a visitor read Proverbs 15 since it is the 15th of the month, and I learned that Proverbs has 31 chapters. John and Margie stayed for a while, while I bought some treats with my food stamps (odwalla strawberry smoothies, avocados, and honey) and retrieved my battery pack from Side Street.

Then we talked about Rodda.

I explained my intent to retreat to the sidewalk. There’s just not enough to fight for. I can get up at six in the morning, when the park “opens”, set the signs back up, and go back to sleep for a few more hours. Few people are walking around at three in the morning. As we expand, we’ll run a row of tents down the sidewalk. Why not? Ask for a hundred people in prayer, and when we have surrounded the park with about fifty tents on the sidewalks, then occupy it. Why fight over something so trivial as what happens between midnight and six am?

John has a different idea. He’s thinking about occupying with me, tonight, for the first time!

Well, that changes everything! Obviously, if the most ardent occupier in Alaska is going to occupy, I can’t be under the tarp! John explains what we can expect legally, since he’s been through it so many times. They really can’t arrest us if it’s a protest activity. We’ll be released when we face the magistrate. They can confiscate the sleeping bag we’re in, and if we try to fight, then they can arrest us for that. We agree on a completely peaceful approach in this case. Us two men join in prayer with Margie, a deep, meaningful prayer for guidance, holding hands while praying aloud. Then I’m off to spend four of the six dollars I’ve got on batteries for the audio recorder.

Posted on

Day 6

Spent another cold night, as there were four of us occupying and only one sleeping bag between us. I gave the sleeping bag to a woman, gave my coat to a man, and layered up with a bunch of dirty laundry I had in a bag. I prayed, of course, and felt guided to walk across the street to Covenant House, which donated a light blanket that I used for myself. I also found a dumpster full of cardboard and used it to make a bed on the sidewalk under the tarp. Spend a good bit of time in prayer, thanking God for sending me his people (none of them were any trouble) and begging him for more blankets and sleeping bags.

In the morning, two of my guests left right around six A.M. to catch an early bus. I was able to duck in the sleeping bag and grab a few hours of sleep for myself before a woman from Parks and Rec came around at nine thirty and told me very politely that we can’t have people sleeping in the park.

What is the point? Why am I here? I wish to tell the majority, very politely, that I will not accept capitalism, I will not accept majority rule, I will not work their wicked jobs, I will not disappear under a bridge, I will camp out here in the park and the only way to get rid of me is to kill me or disappear me into prison.

Prison is what at least one man expects will happen. After a brief visit to New Hope to grab a cup of coffee and find out if I could get someone else to pick up a food bag for me (I could not), I felt led by God to walk to the Downtown Soup Kitchen and preach, which is to say I talked about what I’m doing and why for three or four minutes to the people lined up outside. John Martin will probably object, describe them as a captive audience and tell me they’re sick of preaching. I see his point, but I really feel led to it by God, and I thank him for getting this thing going again. The only vocal reaction was from a man who pointed out that a jail cell was warmer.

After lunch at the soup kitchen, I got back to the protest site and had two different people ask me about the “Free Bike Rides” I had offered. The signs are down, but I simply told them that the bike had been stolen. I wasn’t real attached to the bike, but I’m trying to use it to learn how to manage the resources God gives me. I had been leaving it unlocked, and walked into the mall to use the restroom. Didn’t dilly-dally, either. When I came back, it was gone. I can’t tell you how I hate living in the world. They take everything.

God’s showing me the way forward. Keep praying. Keep occupying. Keep preaching. Do it God’s way; his time, his place. Sunday it was sermons from “the mound”. Yesterday it was fifteen second sermons as people walked by. Today it was the soup kitchen and probably the kids in the park this evening. Probably the Covenant House kids, too.

Prayer requests: Guidance, sending God’s people this way, sleeping bags, tarps, blankets, maybe a tent or two, continued food, sunny weather, paint brush and paint to label the tarp

Posted on

Day 4

Some rain fell during the night, then let off in the morning, then resumed again in the afternoon. The tarp is fine to stay dry in a light rain, but wouldn’t withstand a downpour. Also, it’s wide open at the ends. I’m starting to call it the “Wind Tunnel”.

I preached several times today, since it is Sunday, starting at nine in the morning, and continuing every hour, on the hour, through noon. I eased off in the afternoon as the rain started to fall, but did call my mom to wish her a happy Mother’s Day, talked her through setting up her tablet for USB tethering, and let several other people call their mothers on my phone. I also put up signs that read “Free Bike Rides” and “Free Bike Rides, Phone Calls, Food”.

The bike disappeared while I went into the mall to use the toilet.

Posted on

Day 0

Day 0 started rough, but God worked through it all. I packed up my campsite near the university, piled everything into a shopping cart around noon, and pushed it across town to New Hope, a local church that’s been providing space for John Martin’s Community Support Group on weekday afternoons. An old man came in; we provided him with clean clothes, some food, and I let him lie down to rest with my blanket to cover him and my rolled up sleeping bag as his pillow. I was the only person cleaning up, and when I was done, I woke him, then went upstairs to help carry a coffee maker downstairs for an evening meeting. When I returned, the old man was gone, along with my blanket and bag!

I left a suitcase and the shopping cart at church, started heading downtown at around 6 PM, saw him on Delany Park strip, walked over to him and he talked to me like trash!

“I’ll be over Town Square,” I said.

“I don’t care if you go to the moon!” he replied.

Not even a thank you for the bag. I lugged the rest of my stuff over to Town Square, dropped it all down, and started to cry. Why am I doing this? I’m broke; I’m homeless; I have no sleeping gear, now. Is this really what God wants?

I started thumbing through my Bible, and came to Luke 6:30: “Give to everyone who asks you and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back.” Well, I said to myself, that’s what I just did!

So I took out magic markers, wrote that passage on two signs, taped them together and set them up:

Luke 6:30

Then I started begging God again to provide me warmth to sleep that night. A friend of mine texted me and I called him back and told him what had happened. Even though he was pretty tired, he said that he’d buy a sleeping bag at Wal-Mart and bring it over.

That inspired me to write a second sign, Matthew 25:35:

I was part way into a third sign when John Martin showed up, and by the time my friend got there with a sleeping bag and a tarp I was able to introduce them. Then I finished the third sign:

Finally, I added a fourth sign to explain why we were doing all of this and now I had one from each Gospel:

My first interaction with the police came around midnight. John was still there, which was great, and the exchange was very cordial. I basically preached a brief sermon, explaining to the police officer why I was there.

This text will be replaced

John left soon after the police did, but quickly returned with a deaf mute in a wheelchair. We could only communicate with him by writing, but it was clear that he had no place to go, so I let him sleep at the site.

He got the sleeping bag.