Festival of Faith and Writing at Calvin College

By Malinda Patterson, Class of 2016

A few weeks ago I had the privilege of hearing Anne Lamott speak at the Festival and Faith and Writing. I read my first Anne Lamott book this year, and her words quickly began helping shape the way I approach life.   I was thrilled by the opportunity to hear her speak.  I love Annie because she makes me feel like everything might be okay in the end, without brushing past the fact that life can still be horrible to us.  She tells me how bad everything will be, but that there can still be joy in the midst of that.

In her keynote address, Annie talked about a lot of things, but to me, the most memorable thing she talked about was the importance of showing up.  In the midst of pain and confusion, sometimes this is all we have the capability to do.  I worry so often about being capable or qualified for the things life requires of me, so concerned that I won’t be enough.  Annie reminds me that I don’t have to be enough.  But I do have to show up.

Anne LamottAnne Lamott

     This can be applied to so many areas in life.  Be it writing, helping a grieving friend, or a approaching a task that I feel completely inadequate to complete.  This idea stays with me because I am uncomfortable with it.  I wish I had answers, I want to feel capable in a situation, I hate making mistakes.  I am bad at sitting in pain with another person.  I am bad at feeling helpless.

But then I remember the gentle words of Annie: “Mary and Mary didn’t have a good
answer at the foot of the cross.  But they didn’t leave.”

I don’t always need a good answer.  Jesus’ mother and Mary Magdalene sure didn’t have one.  But they stayed anyway.

When I find myself at the foot of the cross, I want to run.  I ache with discomfort and helplessness. But these are the times when I need to stay.  I need to sit at the foot of the cross, even though it doesn’t make any sense.

To show up without answers is an act of faith.  It is trusting that God has them, even if all I can see is death.  It is to keep putting one foot in front of the other, believing the one who brought me here knows why.  It is knowing I am not enough and so believing that God will have to be.

Annie’s words serve as a reminder that beauty is found in the moments when we embrace the pain, and refuse to look away.

Reflections From Faith & Writing Festival At Calvin

festival-of-faith-and-writingBy Matt Klingstedt, Class of 2015

This past weekend I had the chance the attend the Festival of Faith and Writing at Calvin College. Aside from reminding me how many lovely people there are in the world, one theme stood out to me above all else I heard.

The majority of writers who spoke about their process or vital aspects of life mentioned the importance of listening. It is interesting that so many different writers (mind you, these are people who make a living off their books and blogs) harped on the importance of taking time to be still and shut up. They were not advocating for more time spent praying to God, but for altogether silence in His presence. This took me aback. It is not as though this idea is new to my life. I returned from Spring Break hoping to really set aside some times where I could sit silently, and Dr. Housholder recently spoke in chapel about this same topic.

What took me aback was the way in which all these separate events have come together in a way that demands a physical response. I feel as though the notion of silence popped into my head at the opportune moment of my life so as to really challenge me. Junior year, especially this last semester, has been difficult. I don’t have copious amounts of free time to devote to relationships and time with God and sitting in silence. I am forced to be intentional about them (as cliché as that may sound from a TU student), and often times I do not feel I have time or energy to give.

I feel like God said, “Oh, you want to be still? Okay, here is the busiest two weeks of your semester.” He did not do this to spite me, but to make me give a real answer to the question, “Do you trust me?” This conference was another block of time I did not intend to be still. It was going to be busy and full of life and conversation and literature and exciting and on and on and on…

Instead, I heard Richard Foster tell me there are times in life not to write and not to talk, but to listen to God’s still voice. I heard Luci Shaw and Jeanne Murray Walker tell me to provide space for stillness. I heard Dr. Housholder, in the back of my mind, reminding me that God is in control, regardless of what I do. I came to a conference with over 2,000 attendees at a college with over 4,000 students in a city with over 100,000 people and, somehow, found silence.

I was talking with a fellow student on Saturday and, partially by chance events, decided to put this practice of stillness into practice–we skipped the next session. That may not have been what Richard Foster or others had in mind, but that time away was so incredibly refreshing. I don’t think Calvin set out to have an entire conference and brought in all these speakers and people to reinforce the idea of stillness to a random college kid from Taylor. From my perspective, though, that is exactly what happened and what I am taking away from the Festival.

Anne Lamott said in the Keynote lecture on Friday night that writing and life are pretty similar, and one way they line up is whatever we do, we do badly at first. Doing a quick check at my progress since Spring Break, I have pretty much been terrible at being silent. I have been a failure at setting aside frequent time to do nothing but listen before God. I have practiced silence poorly.

But, I don’t have to be great right away. In fact, I don’t have to be good. Anne Lamott (who is a pretty neat gal) gave me permission to suck on the condition that I keep at it. With this in mind, I will keep trying.

*This is the first in a series of reflections from the Faith & Writing Festival at Calvin.*