Inspire, Spring 2008

12 spring 2008 a discernible beat and electric guitars blaring from speakers outside the DMC, and male students with shaggy beards, even shaggier hair. “Spoiled,” we all agreed, our voices thick with envy. “That’s what students are these days.” Indeed, the school has come a long way since the years when three female freshmen had to squeeze into one room in Maddox, or when guys wore socks with sandals, or even when female students on campus hovered around their radios in January to hear if the temperature was cold enough to wear slacks to class. We’d graduated from Cedarville College as the “Centennial Class.” When we were juniors, we were constantly reminded that the school was “almost 100,” the mantra that became our Homecoming theme in the fall of my senior year. And when the school eventually hit the century mark, the year filled with firsts: The “Follicle Folly” became the campus’ first beard-growing contest that professors participated in as eagerly as students did; the Centennial Library’s completion begat a moving day where hundreds of students transferred books from the old structure (now Milner) to the new building; and I was serving my stint as SGA’s first female vice president. It was also a year of looking back, remembering the school’s roots that were as relevant in 1987 as they are now — and as they were in 1915 when the second president of the college, Wilbert Renwick McChesney, said at his inauguration, “Cedarville College was founded in prayer, has been maintained in faith, and supported by sacrifice; and long after this generation shall have run its race, Cedarville College will live to enrich the nation, gladden the church, and bless the world.” I suppose that’s why I ended up here — to participate in work with such noble goals. As a professor in the Department of Language and Literature, I strive to teach students to “live deliberately,” as Thoreau called it. My colleagues and I want students to see God at work amid the ordinary aspects of their lives. In a culture where productivity is praised more than contemplation; where means get justified by their profitable, or efficient, ends; where thinking quickly — or cleverly — is valued more than thinking reflectively and deeply; where prayer and Sabbath-keeping, indeed, just quiet reading and meditating, are therefore not practiced, we hope not only to teach students the skills of writing and thinking critically, but also to model for them the benefits of such a radical, alternative lifestyle. This is what the study of the liberal arts entails: reflecting the beauty of Christ in a life lived with intention. Thus, the University’s commitment to the liberal arts core continues to be important; for studying literature, music, art, communication, and history teaches us how to reflect the image of the Creator in beautiful and imaginative ways. Of course, this commitment supports the general education curriculum here. And it’s so good to see that this philosophy still, after all these years, likewise strengthens the required Bible minor. Earning a college degree is more than just getting a good job. It is the pursuit of truth. It is sacrifice. It is the recognition, as one educator put it, that “seated at the monitor screen of every computer is ... a person.” Despite these constants, I can’t imagine that President McChesney, or even Dr. Jeremiah, could have predicted how much this school would grow. “Controlled growth” — that’s what Dr. Dixon used to call it in the ’80s whenever he compared Cedarville’s enrollment to the explosive numbers at Liberty. At the rate of 30 more students a year, we argyle-clad Reaganites were convinced Cedarville would really be something if it ever hit 2,000 students. Some days, it’s still hard to fathom that the college has matured into a 3,100-student university. I have to confess that after returning to teach here in 1999, I, too, was overwhelmed by the number of faculty and staff I didn’t know. And after eight years, that hasn’t changed much: I’m still meeting colleagues for the first time, even unearthing names for the first time. Big isn’t necessarily better, at least not as far as relationships go. And so, seeing a familiar face is always welcome. When I joined Cedarville’s faculty, for example, it was wonderful to walk into the University dining hall, officially called “Chuck’s” now, and spot Chuck McKinney looking exactly — and I mean exactly — like he did a decade and a half earlier. Not even a gray hair. Same wise cracks. Only one thing was different: The food was better! No longer do students have to choose between shepherd’s pie or chocolate chip ice cream for dinner (the choice was not a bad one at the time — it only seems worse now that I’m a mom). My generation had steak-and- shrimp on Wednesdays. Now, on any given day, any given kid can choose among several different dinners, including soft-serve ice cream! Stir-fried vegetables, pizza and pasta, grilled sandwiches, wraps, home-cooked meals (read: meat and potatoes), Italian and Mexican fare, American fare (read: hamburgers and fries), eggs, bagels … You name it, Chuck’s got it! On a more serious note, it’s been nice to see the familiar face of prayer here, too. And I don’t just mean days of prayer either. I mean daily prayer, lifting up the hurting and needy every day in chapel and in classes, including mine. And in prayer groups, residence hall meetings, and middle-of- More than 500 Cedarville students traveled to the Gulf region to provide relief in the wake of Hurricane Katrina.