The Cost of Status

As impossible as it is to believe, my first-born is soon to be driving a car and is now old enough to be considering college.  I can't even get my arms around this startling reality.  Where does the time go?  It seems like yesterday he was walking around our neighborhood pool singing Wiggles songs at the top of his little lungs, enthusiastically inviting anyone who would listen to come to our house for a play date. 

Like most parents, I remember putting him to bed at night, imagining all the potential paths he would take in life; fantasizing about future accomplishments and achievements.  I was more excited about his future then he was! (Ok, to be fair, he was 4 years old so I doubt he was too terribly preoccupied with a future outside of what he would eat for a snack that  day, and when he would one day meet Big Bird.)

Things have changed.  He's now a high school sophomore and the other night showed us a computer program that helps identify potential colleges aligned with his stated preferences.  His preferences were pretty broad- he identified a handful of geographic areas, a preferred student body size, a demonstrated strength in a few areas of academic interest, and a desired level of academic rigor, among other things.  The output was a comprehensive list, but what was most striking was--you guessed it--the costs.

Merciful heavens.
Jesus, take the wheel.

There wasn't one school on that list that was less than $60,000 a year.  Now I know what you're thinking- there are plenty of strong, affordable state schools which are markedly less expensive.  That is correct.  But even those hover around the $30,000 mark.  A year.

My wife and I awoke the next morning with matching headaches from a night spent clenching teeth, wondering how in the world we were going to pay for college.

This discussion surfaces in the midst of one of the most shocking scandals in academic history- wealthy parents paying hundreds of thousands of dollars to bribe schools into accepting their children.

I'm an enthusiastic supporter of higher education.  Don't get me wrong.  But I wonder if the root of this unbridled trend has less to do with a sincere desire to educate our children and more to do with an unquenchable desire for status.  Are we really convinced a quarter-of-a-million-dollar education will better our children? Or are we more tempted by the allure of bragging rights- being able to talk about how Little Johnny is at Princeton, or how excited we are that Suzy is about to graduate from Duke?  And are we training our kids to see college as just another step in the ladder of success, rather than a unique opportunity to read good books, learn from talented teachers, engage in thought-provoking conversations, and meet a diverse set of interesting friends.

I don't have the answers to these questions.  And frankly, I'm asking them of myself.  But I do know that as Christians, our identities aren't tied to our successes.  Whether we attend the most prestigious of universities or forego the experience altogether, God loves you just the same.  No better, no worse.  Whether we scale the tops of the corporate ladder or struggle in a myriad of jobs, God loves you just the same.

Sure, it is important to nourish our God-given talents and develop ourselves to do our best.  But I would challenge all of us to take a step back when we find ourselves slipping into the "machine" that tells us in order to be worthy or valuable or successful we must achieve at a certain level.  And I would definitely encourage caution when we find ourselves attaching too much value to labels, whether it's an alma mater or a professional title.  As the old hymn says, "the ground is level at the foot of the cross."

The world is still an exciting place, and the futures of all of us, young and old, are bursting with new experiences and breath-taking journeys awaiting us.  But never lose sight of the truth that you don't need the approval or the endorsement or the credentials of anyone to be deemed worthy.  Because of Christ, you are perfectly equipped just as you are.

See you in church,
Pastor Brook