The views expressed in articles written by guest authors are the authors’ alone and do not necessarily reflect the views of Stoa or the Stoa Alumni Committee.
My whole life, I have often been called a perfectionist. While this trait served me well on the dance stage, I found that holding onto this attitude restrained me in today’s dynamic workplace. Competing in Stoa in a variety of events gave me the ability to speak, research, write, teach, and present. However, after participating at a high level in many activities in high school, I became excited to focus on and master one skill in my next stage of life. I chose to pursue modern, ballet, and hip hop dance.
Most new graduates face a similar challenge as we begin our first year of college, vocational school, or work: Going from a nationally awarded speaker down to a Starbucks barista is an emotional swing. Everything about graduating seemed like a letdown to me. Perhaps many of us have seen graduates struggle with feeling like they went from “successful” in high school to unknown in the real world. I remember being depressed and wondering, “Is there anything in the real world that has the same level of impact that speaking with Stoa had?”
Today, I work for Compassion International—a non-profit ministry that helps release children from poverty in multiple countries. I remember facing a panel of ten people who asked me how I would be able to be content with a desk job after working as a Contemporary and Hip Hop dancer for several years. I was unsure at the time how to respond.
The biggest challenge that arose within my first few months of working for Compassion was my perfectionism. My job includes certain performance metrics that I must meet every day on every interaction. Each week and each month, employees have a performance review on how we are doing compared to the average performance across the department. This process incited massive stress for me, as anything less than “perfection” felt like failure to me. I attached this feeling to my identity. I labeled myself as a failure.
I have noticed this same tendency in many of my fellow athletes, dancers, musicians, and other performance-based workers. Instead of seeing a single shortcoming as something we can move past, we react by labeling ourselves as “failures.” During those first few months at Compassion, I had the chance to discuss my perfectionism with multiple mentors, counselors, and coworkers. They helped me see that I needed change and perspective. These came by embracing a new mindset at work about failing.
Before the workplace, if I failed, it meant that I could not move forward with school or dance. After entering the workplace, I learned that falling short of the mark is normal. It will happen to all of us. I will never be good at something that I have only done a few times. It is unrealistic for me to think I can be “the best” at a new task that I just learned today. However, each time I fall short, I have another building block to place on my current experience. Each time I fall short, I fall forward.
I learned that each block of experience is valuable. Even if it is simply working for a week at a company and being fired shortly after. You will not hear many people say that to you, but it rings true in my experience.
I have learned to use my failures to help me learn more about where I am headed. This certainly requires a perspective change, but if a perfectionist like me can do it, then anyone can.
Taryn Enos is a Stoa graduate from 2016. She spent three years attending Fine Arts performance schools and working as a professional Modern and Hip Hop dance artist. After a major injury, she retired from dancing full time and moved back to Colorado Springs in 2019. Today, she works full time for Compassion International as a Sponsor Donor Relationship Specialist. She currently attends Grand Canyon University online to finish her B.A. in Communications with a concentration on Mass Media and Broadcasting. Her goal is to step into a Communications role at Compassion. In the future, she hopes to use her teaching and presentation skills to help other people reach their goals and dreams in life.
Finding the Balance
Ever since high school, I have made it my mission to search for “balance.” I constantly seek that perfect place between work and rest or between social time and personal recharge time. Most importantly, I long to gracefully walk the tightrope of giving control to God while also being a good steward of my responsibilities.
I talk with my peers about these issues, and I realize that this third point of balance represents a struggle for many of us. This summer, as I read through my study Bible, I came across a commentary explanation of a chapter in Proverbs. The line read: “We must maintain a delicate balance: Trusting God as if everything depended on Him, while working as if everything depended on us.”
I want that. Do you? How do we find the balance between trusting God as if everything depended on Him, while working as if everything depended on us? Where do we draw the line between self-dependence and dependence on God?
In the past year, I graduated from college, moved into my own apartment, and started my career. I learned that each morning when I woke up, I had to answer these questions for myself. To tell you the truth, I am still figuring this out. But, I encountered two things that I like to remind myself of each day as I try to find this “balance.”
Reminder #1: Trust that God will guide your footsteps.
I find myself worrying about the future quite often, over-thinking the uncertainties that lie ahead. Sometimes, I overthink so much that I forget to trust God with the matter in front of me.
I came across a quote from Martin Luther King Jr. a couple of weeks ago, and it gave me a new perspective about the future. He said, “You don’t have to see the whole staircase… Just take the first step.” When I read these words, they inspired me to look at my life’s journey in a new way. Oftentimes, I want to know exactly what God’s plan is for my life. I want to know each and every one of the steps on the staircase. However, if I truly want to trust God, I sometimes need to take that first step—even though I do not know what that future step looks like. God will show up for us in the midst of uncertainty if we seek Him and pray for guidance.
My roommate during my sophomore year of college always said that when she prayed to God about a decision, she would pray, “God, if this is from you, please make it work out. Show me a sign. Help me take the next step. But, God, if this is not from you, please take it away from me.” In this current season of my life where there are many pivots and uncertain steps on the staircase, I pray this prayer all the time. I need to realize that God is in control and that He will work things out in His timing because He wants what is best for us. Proverbs 19:21 reminds me, “Many are the plans in the mind of a man, but it is the purpose of the Lord that will stand.”
Reminder #2: Look back at all the ways that God has worked in your life previously.
One of my favorite worship songs is “See A Victory” by Elevation Worship. One section of the lyrics says, “You take what the enemy meant for evil and you turn it for good. You turn it for good.” I think back to times in my life when my heart felt disappointment and loneliness. I see that God not only put my broken pieces back together, but He also brought blessings from the hurt. He turned my mess into a message—a message to come back to, a message to cling to, a message to speak to others. Through all of the hard times, I can testify that the anthem the Lord has allowed me to hear over and over is, “I am all you need.” No matter what happens in life, He is always there for you. He will always pursue you, listen to you, cherish you, and push you to become a better version of yourself. When we take a moment to look at our past and see what God has done in our lives, we can use these memories as a source of strength and motivation as we work hard to accomplish our goals and impact the world.
As I have searched for the balance between giving control to God while also stewarding my responsibilities well, I have realized that this balance is found in trusting God and His plan for me. Because God has already written our life story, He knows what we need to accomplish each day. God will help us understand when we need to work and when we need to rest. Our responsibility is to trust Him and remind ourselves of all the ways He has guided us in the past. Proverbs 16:9 shares this truth in a beautiful way: “In their hearts, humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.”
Isabelle Clausen is a Financial Advisor at Desert Wealth Management. At this firm, she utilizes her investment management and financial planning resources to create personalized plans for her clients to help them worry less about tomorrow and focus more on today. Isabelle graduated from Grand Canyon University in April 2020 with a major in Finance and Economics and a minor in Entrepreneurship. She wanted to become a financial adviser because she loved economics, people, and entrepreneurship. Isabelle could not think of a better career to combine these three passions! For students who have an interest in wealth management, Isabelle would highly recommend this career, as it is both brain-stimulating and life-giving. Isabelle’s goal is to help each of her clients feel confident in their financial future, comfortable in their lifestyle, and present in their everyday life.
Listening for Suprises
My “impromptu moments” are experiences where the stakes are high, preparation is limited, and I am simultaneously excited and anxious. Interviewing poet and teacher Billy Collins on the book Robinson Crusoe was one such impromptu moment. You can’t predict these moments, but you can be prepared for them.
As a Stoa competitor from 2009-2013, I spoke through many rounds of limited preparation events, Lincoln Douglas debates, and Platform speeches. These events cultivate research skills and the ability to think on one’s feet; the latter an invaluable life skill. My time in Stoa prepared me for the surprises and rich work in a creative field like podcasting by cultivating the skills of listening, discerning, and dialoguing.
This process of listening well started with podcast internships and eventually culminated in an audio fellowship program in New York City. These experiences emphasized listening as an act of care for the interviewee. I found this emphasis everywhere in the industry. Conversations suffer if active listening is not present. The repeated instruction on this point made me wonder, “How could our conversations change if our first objective is care for the other person before our need for the right response?” I remember from Lincoln Douglas debate how rigorous cross-examinations were and how thrilling an admission of faulty logic was! But, then, I wondered if that same questioning skill could be converted into listening better to another person’s interpretation of a book or an idea.
Because of the fellowship program, I now host and produce my own podcast! This Book That Book is a narrative interview podcast discussing formative books we loved as kids. I hope my care for my guests injects a warmth and winsomeness to the interviews. The book choices are not always my favorite. Yet, it is often those books that yield the greatest surprises on tape.
During my interview on Robinson Crusoe, Collins spoke openly about the significance of Robinson Crusoe’s relationship to Friday, a reformed cannibal whom Crusoe rescues. I asked Collins to say more about the significance of it, not knowing how he would respond. Collins replied that these two characters exemplify a gift of friendship after a long isolation. Because I listened, and remained caring about Collin’s insights on the story, I might never have been surprised with this interpretation of the book.
Texts are full of surprises. Alumni and current competitors are familiar with Mars Hill Impromptu, which involves crafting a speech combining analysis of popular culture with application of faith. The event provides opportunities in discerning the culture we live in and engaging their surprises with curiosity. For example, I am editing an upcoming interview about The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros. My interviewee talks at length about how the book helped her cement her Latina identity. In my response, I share how we all desire to “feel and be made whole.” Discerning this truth helped my interviewee feel comfortable enough to share intimately how comforting the story and its character were. When I uncover universal truths about the human condition through my interviews, it helps me understand both a book and a person in a new way.
Understanding someone else’s worldview is a key tenant of Mars Hill Impromptu. Seeking the elements of another’s worldview inevitably creates a dialogue. For me, I am always questioning when I enjoy other podcasts. Questions like, “What’s the main worldview here?” and “How is it expressed?” and “What perspective am I missing?” and “Why do I enjoy this?” play in my head. These questions apply to a myriad of media. As you combine these questions with curiosity and care, you will find that they go a long way in understanding something you might have otherwise disregarded. I love to share the episodes that encourage me towards joy and hope. The foundation I built in Stoa has only encouraged me in creating a show that builds on these themes.
No matter how much we prepare, surprises and uncertainty are part of life. They are both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. I could not have anticipated interviewing a poet laureate. Wherever you are now, consider your own impromptu moments. There is wonder and potential if we approach life as listeners who care and discern well in the moment. Surprises yield curious results, so dialogue with them! A well-placed “tell me more” is an opportunity to understand another’s person’s story. You have what you need for those moments – listen and you will be glad you found them.
Katherine Kwong is an audio-maker based in Southern California. After interning with both On Being Studios and The Moth Radio Hour, she attended the Stonybrook Audio Podcast Fellowship ’20 and turned a small idea about children’s books and friendship into This Book That Book. She is an enthusiastic customer experience representative for Warby Parker and uses the rest of her time to produce her show, read more Children’s books and watercolor. This Book That Book is her first podcast. You can find out more about the show at thisbookthatbook.org or wherever you get your podcasts. You can also follow the show for updates on Instagram @thisbookthatbookpodcast
I occasionally found myself missing debate last year, after graduating high school. Though I enjoyed my time as a college freshman, I toyed with the idea of starting a collegiate debate club with a fellow Stoa alumna to continue my previous competition experience. But while I stoked my nostalgia and daydreamed, I stumbled across a fourteenth-century letter that made me rethink my attitude towards debate.
Petrarch, a scholar and poet from Italy, wrote “against old dialectic cavilers”—somebody who “cavils” argues pettily, sometimes just for the sake of arguing. In his letter, Petrarch argued that, despite debate’s merits, we should not make debate the goal. He perceived debate’s potential not as an end but as a tool which “sharpens the intellect, marks off the path toward truth, and teaches how to avoid fallacies.” Most Stoa alumni could name similar advantages they gained from debate. I certainly benefited academically from my forensics experience. When I write an essay for a college class, I use the argumentation skills I developed through debate and frequently rely on the research abilities I honed from brief-building.
Petrarch goes on to qualify his praise of debate. He says that “there is nothing so ugly as an old man who is a dialectic debater.” That is, despite the usefulness of debate as an educational tool, it belongs properly to a certain age, a certain stage of life. Particularly, debate best belongs to adolescence—when we most actively prepare for adulthood.
Yes, debate promotes skills essential to modern Christians: we have a calling to defend Jesus, Truth Incarnate, which makes the ability to argue well of the highest importance. Competitive debate is artificial though. Topics are pre-determined, judges often share your worldview already, and arguments frequently stray into the abstract and theoretical. Artificiality can aid training but, at a certain point, we are called to use the skills we have developed—rather than just develop them unendingly. We need not cavil.
To quote Petrarch again: “where we pass with honor, we do not stay with praise.” As alumni of Stoa, we should view competitive debate as a stepping stone that lies behind us. We need to use the persuasive and rhetorical abilities that we developed through debate practically—in real-life situations. For instance, I recently canvassed for a pro-life organization, the Susan B. Anthony List, and asked undecided voters questions that I could not have phrased correctly without my cross-examination experience. Looking back, I have no doubt this opportunity was far better for me than returning to debate would have been.
Though a person might have good reason to extend their time in debate (perhaps to become a trial lawyer), I think we should leave competitive debate to high school-aged students. Even lawyers don’t debate for debate’s own sake but practice a profession. For this reason, I urge my fellow alumni, when returning to a tournament or coaching young debaters, to do so for their benefit and training—not to simply re-live the “gotcha” moments of your glory days. As Christian adults, we ought to give up “childish ways,” as St. Paul said in 1 Corinthians 13:11. Our training was a blessing but, in response to that gift, we now have an adult responsibility. We ought to grow up and move out of that which we find comfortable. We must not remain hidden away in competition rooms; we must take hold of our calling to speak boldly in real life.
The Renaissance Philosophy of Man. Edited by Ernst Cassirer, Paul Oskar Kristeller, and John Herman Randall, Jr. The University of Chicago Press. 1984. “A Disapproval of an Unreasonable Use of the Discipline of Dialectic.” Francesco Petrarca.
Though thoroughly acclimated to the warm weather of her home state of Texas, Theresa Ramsay is currently facing much different temperatures at Wyoming Catholic College. At her school, she is a sophomore, president of the politics club, and the prose editor for a student-run literary journal (the Pigeonhole). She competed in speech and debate for a total of six years and, in Stoa, her favorite events were Apologetics, Team Policy, and Parliamentary Debate. She has had previous work published in the Pigeonhole and by the Foundation for Economic Education.
An Instrument of God
By Samuel Durand
“Soli Deo Gloria.” “Jesu Juva.”
Translated from Latin, these two statements read, “Glory to God alone,” and “Jesus, help.”
Johann Sebastian Bach, the monolithic Baroque keyboardist and composer, would often start and finish his pieces with the initials for these short sentences. Scribbling the letters “JJ” at the beginning and writing “SDG” at the end of the piece indicated his focus on God as he composed. He wrote music with the help of Jesus and for God’s glory alone.
I am a professional pianist, and the music of J.S. Bach forms a cornerstone of the repertoire musicians study and perform. Researching composers and music history is part of our discipline, and I often find myself in deep admiration of the example that Bach set for all of us.
A devout Lutheran, Bach established himself as a foundational figure in the history of music. Recognized as a master of technique, he played a large role in developing the modern method of fingering that we pianists and organists still use today. During his lifetime, he composed over one thousand pieces. Musicians today still stand in awe of his music and marvel at its ingenuity, beauty, and difficulty.
But what makes Bach so special to many is his deep commitment to his faith. Bach’s relationship with God appears in his music in many places. One of the most tangible indications stems from his lifelong habit of always ending his pieces in the major. Pieces in minor keys beautifully captivate your feelings and create despair and hopelessness, while major keys liberate you and triumphantly declare you redeemed. Even Bach’s most remorseful pieces end in a major chord, demonstrating his hope in salvation through Jesus Christ and his belief in life after death. Hearing our Christian theology in the music reminds me of the shared hope that we have and truly comforts me.
As a pianist, I both incredibly enjoy and intensely hate playing Bach’s music. It is so difficult to play! When I practice Bach’s music, I must be totally engaged – musically, mentally, and emotionally, which tires and challenges me. When I do not make the effort to completely focus, the music loses its life and becomes a waste of my time. The members of the audience do not care about just the notes. They desire and deserve the story behind the piece, and unless you throw all your energy into bringing the piece to life, it will feel dead. But, interestingly, when I engage in Bach’s music, I feel more connected to his music than to that of any other composer. The technical and musical challenges combined with the emotions inherent in his music make successful performances incredibly satisfying.
This is not an accident. Bach’s theological beliefs manifest themselves in the character and flow of his pieces. Many of his preludes take the form of a prayer put into sound as he takes us on a journey of repentance and sorrow. We can imagine Bach describing with music the feelings that we all have when confessing our sins.
I am a new Stoa alumnus, and I am currently studying at the Longy School of Music with Lithuanian pianist Andrius Zlabys. Although intensely focusing on music is good and necessary for music schools, most of them do not acknowledge the creator behind the music. Even though learning the music of Bach remains an important part of my musical training, the most valuable thing I see in Bach’s life is the fact that no matter what our vocation is, we should call on Jesus for help and seek to glorify God in all we do. Continually searching our lives and ensuring that we are committed to doing God’s will helps us to become more focused, satisfied, humble, and secure. I do not have to worry about the mistakes I make while performing (which inevitably happen), as I do not play for my glory, but, rather, I play to glorify God through his creation of music. Taking the spotlight off of me and putting it on our God has been a long journey that is still continuing, but it is absolutely worth the time and effort.
Whose ‘initials’ are on your work? I challenge myself and all of my fellow Stoa alumni to consider the ways that we can publicly witness and testify for God in the sphere He has given us. We do not have to ‘initialize’ everything we make, write, or create; but, we should follow Bach’s example in asking God for help and glorifying Him alone. When we turn our focus on God, it takes the stress out of our lives. It gives us purpose behind what we do, and, most importantly, we begin to fulfill the task that God created us for.
We were created to glorify God. God is the one who guides and strengthens us. We should give any credit we receive to Him. May our vocations and our lives be His instruments. As Bach would say to us, in summary:
“In nomine Jesu.”
Born and raised in central Arkansas, Samuel Durand studied piano from a young age at the Searcy Community School of Music under Dr. Scott Carrell. A recent Stoa graduate, Samuel was a member of SOAR, and qualified for NITOC in Original Oratory, Apologetics, and Demonstration. He enjoys playing in all styles of music but is especially drawn to that of the Baroque and French Impressionist periods. He is currently studying with Lithuanian pianist Andrius Zlabys at the Longy School of Music in Cambridge, Massachusetts. In addition to playing the piano, Samuel conducts and composes music.
The Value of Simply Trying
by Laura Williamson
“If they’re not going to win, maybe they shouldn’t compete.”I heard this statement from the father of one of my students who was struggling to perform at tournaments. I know he meant well, but I believe the father’s mindset betrayed a lack of understanding regarding the educational value of speech and debate. Unfortunately, I encounter this mindset frequently in parents and alumni coaches.
A young man I knew competed for five years but never walked on stage for any event until the last three tournaments of his senior year of high school. Several of my students competed in debate from the ages of 12 to 17 before they advanced past preliminary rounds. Although I won a few trophies, I was not a “natural talent” at speech and debate. I lacked the required charismatic personality and confidence, and it took four years of tournaments for me to achieve competitive success.
Should students like me stop competing because they are not winning trophies? Absolutely not.
Persevering in spite of failure is important. Just ask Thomas Edison. He went through a thousand versions of the light bulb before he was able to produce one that worked. Even if students never have their proverbial “light bulb moment” of competitive success, they will still learn critical skills simply because of their participation.
Some of the most important lessons my students learn are about dressing professionally, getting their facts straight, and presenting themselves like composed adults—even if they are sick, sleep-deprived, or upset. Learning these lessons does not mean that my students will win trophies, but they will have an education that even college graduates may lack.
When I participated in a debate at an Ivy League university, I saw elite, college-aged students show up with their suit pants tucked into their socks (no, I am not kidding.) Many wore mismatched outfits that looked less professional than anything I have ever seen students wear to a Stoa tournament. Most of the debaters argued claims that were supported by few—if any—facts. More than one gave stammering speeches because of their nerves.
Even if a Stoa competitor never wins a trophy, they will leave our forensic league with better developed professional skills than what I observed at college tournaments. Even as high school students, they are more workplace-ready than some of their college counterparts.
Trophies are nice but have no intrinsic value. Many alumni have to throw their medals and trophies away when they move as adults. However, the grit of perseverance and the life skills that students learn from competing in speech and debate are of incalculable and enduring value.
As I write, I think of Proverbs 21:3 “The horse is made ready for the day of battle, but the victory belongs to the Lord.” We can prepare ourselves to win but whether we win is not up to us.
Students cannot compete in Stoa without having meaningful learning experiences that will distinguish them from their peers. Merely trying is invaluable, no matter what happens. The acts of trying to wear a professional-looking suit, trying to provide proof to support one’s claims, and trying to speak clearly build positive habits that last forever.
There is educational value in participation for its own sake because we will always finish better than we began. Do not worry if your child or student never wins a trophy; worry if they quit.
Laura Williamson is a born-and-raised Coloradoan. She is a rising senior finishing a degree in Business Administration with minors in Pre-Law and Accounting. Laura competed in Stoa for seven years and has continued to coach a variety of events since graduation. Throughout her time in college she has continued to pursue her passion for forensics by participating in collegiate debate and moot court.
An Alumni Response to NITOC Cancellation
As you are likely aware, the Stoa Board recently made the difficult decision to cancel NITOC 2020. I know that this decision required many hours of meeting, deliberation, and prayer. I’m grateful for the Board’s commitment to taking the best course of action, no matter how hard. I’m grateful to the members of Stoa, for their support of the Board and its decision.
I can tell you that tears were shed in my home after the announcement. My heart hurts for competitors, especially seniors. As C.S. Lewis would remind us, no one is ever told what might have been. As a coach and an alumna, I consider what my response should be to this situation.
This is a good time to pause and reflect on why I wanted my students to compete in the first place. Was it to get to NITOC? It’s fine to chase checkmarks. It’s fine to want to win. But if my heart sinks when I hear that NITOC is cancelled because I’ve made one tournament the end-all-be-all, then something isn’t fine.
My satisfaction cannot be based on my team’s ranking at one tournament. I cannot encourage my students to wrap up their hopes and dreams in one performance. If I teach my students that NITOC is the ultimate purpose of their competitive endeavors, I’m robbing them of a large part of their forensic education. I’m teaching them to store their treasure, and thus their hearts, in things that will pass away. Don’t get me wrong — I love NITOC! I remember the thrill of competing. I remember the friends and the special moments. But my point is this — There’s more to Stoa than NITOC.
Stoa equips students to speak boldly and change the world for Christ. Stoa develops and rewards excellence in speaking and debating. Stoa glorifies God. These are the purposes of our competition, of our tournaments. This is the point of NITOC.
This emphasis on excellence — that’s what I need to focus on at this time. I need to teach my students to develop their critical thinking skills, delivery skills, speaking skills, and research skills if for no other reason than that they need these skills for the real world. When I rank lifelong and life-changing skills lower on my list of priorities than one performance, I need a gut-check. I need to ask for a paradigm shift and a divine re-ordering of my priorities. I need to spend time on my knees in prayer.
My response to this situation needs to be refocusing my goals on excellence and glorifying God. In my coaching, in my academic studies, in my professional endeavors, why am I pursuing the things that I am pursuing? In this time of pause, let’s pray that we will pursue the right things for the right purposes.