ewis and Clark are among the greatest adventurers who ever lived. Their exploration of North America, west of the Missouri River, laid the foundation for U.S. expansion all the way to California. Commissioned by President Thomas Jefferson, they prepared vigorously for the trip by, of all things, going to school. It wasn’t until Lewis had studied under the best and brightest of botanists, astronomers and scholars, that Jefferson allowed the journey to begin.
The two things Lewis did to prepare were study and count; count how much bounty they would need to pay the natives. The natives were crucial. They knew the land and could guide them along treacherous territory. Lewis and Clark knew that without someone who knew the land, they would easily lose the trail and face death at the hands of a dangerous and unknown terrain.
Four years in college can feel much like the adventures of Lewis and Clark, with broad horizons and bold discoveries. To the first semester freshman, it’s uncharted territory looming before them. And in college, the terrain is rocky, with lots of paths that lead to destruction. Guides are no less crucial to your success. And yet, they’re not easily found.
When I was in college, I floundered for the first year and a half. It wasn’t until my sophomore year that I took a class that changed my life. Although I neglected the homework more than I should have and settled for a B, the professor became my mentor. For the next three years, I dropped by his office whenever I had troubling questions or decisions to make. He listened to my big ideas and often, gently, set me back on course.
When I announced my plans to enter graduate school the semester after I finished college, he advised me to get a job “flipping hamburgers” first. “You need the real world experience,” he said. What a great idea, I thought. I could always count on him for wise counsel. Truthfully, few others at that point in my life would have gotten such a grateful response to such a mundane answer.
I still talk to that professor, at least once a year. And when I call him to bring him up-to-date on my latest big ideas, I’m still a little anxious, hoping he’ll think they’re good.
Professors have long played the role of trusted adviser. After all, we sit at their feet to absorb the lessons they’ve learned, and assume they’re teaching the truth. In the classroom, we set aside our preconceptions to consider their wit and wisdom. Ironically, the pressure of earning tenure and the need to “publish or perish” is making it harder to find professors who are willing to invest their time in us. And depending on your campus, it’s likely that finding a Godly mentor is next to impossible.
Our goal for Boundless is to find those mentors who do have the time — and the wisdom — worth heeding. Each week we’ll publish articles that explore the terrain around you — distinguishing the great vistas from the dead-ends and rabbit trails. We’ll discuss love beyond sex, a worldview beyond political correctness and faith beyond sociological stereotypes. Our writers are professors, students and professionals who understand what’s at stake.
The more you respond to what you read in Boundless, the better. We’re looking for your suggestions for improvement, letters to the editor and article submissions. We want to know what you think about the challenges and opportunities you face in this season of life. So log on and let the adventure begin.