Pick Up Some Rocks (Speech)

Commencement speech for Judson International School, 2008

The sun had just dipped below the rocky hills on the western horizon, and Cody knew from experience exactly how much time he had before dusk would give way to the cold, starry desert night. “Just give me five more minutes, boy,” he said as he patted the neck of the galloping horse underneath him. And then he heard it: a voice, deep and clear and masculine, as if right behind his left ear. “Pick up some rocks and put them in your saddlebag.” Cody jerked the reins sharply backward, bringing the horse to a sudden halt. The flat and barren landscape afforded him a view of miles around, and not another soul could be seen. He had heard enough stories from other cowboys to know that a man’s imagination often begins to play tricks on him after many days in the lonely desert. Still, it had never happened to him before. The horse had started walking again, and Cody spurred it into a faster gait. Then he heard it again, just the same as the first time: “Pick up some rocks and put them in your saddlebag.” Quite unsettled, but determined to keep riding, he cursed under his breath and flung out his arm as if to brush the voice away. But it only repeated, this time louder, with an authority and an urgency that could not be ignored, “Pick up some rocks and put them in your saddlebag.” At this point Cody knew that the only way he could make this eerie, disembodied voice leave him alone was to do what it said. So once again he brought his horse to a halt, this time for good, and with a sigh he dismounted. He stroked the sweaty, heaving sides of the tired bay stallion. Then he untied the leather strings of his dusty saddlebag, bent down, scooped a small handful of gravel into his callused palm, and dropped it into the pouch, whacking it savagely a couple of times for good measure. “Are you happy?” he sneered, turning around. After watering his horse and dining on baked beans cooked over a sagebrush fire, he curled up with his saddle and blanket and tried with all his might to banish the memory of the voice from his mind. Dawn came soon enough, and as Cody saddled his horse again for another hard day’s ride, he suddenly remembered what had happened the night before. He was almost convinced that it was a dream, but just to make sure, he decided to reach into his saddlebag to see if the rocks were there. And what he found nearly knocked him off of his feet. For he held in his hand not gravel, but unmistakable solid gold nuggets. His whoop of joy must have startled all the vultures, snakes and jackrabbits for miles. But it wasn’t long before he himself was startled by a much more sobering thought: “These few little pieces will scarcely get me out of debt. There’s no shortage of rocks in the desert--why didn’t I pick up more? I could have put a great big diamond ring on my girl’s finger, settled down in a big country house, and never had to work again!” But realizing that the voice was gone, the opportunity past, he kicked himself and rode on.

You were all probably afraid that my story would have a moral, and you were right. Every high school student at some point asks the question, “Why do I have to be here? When am I ever going to use this? Why are they forcing to me to learn about hyperbolas, the atomic weight of molybdenum, the ancient city of Mohenjo-Daro, or iambic pentameter when all I want to do with my life is be a stay-at-home parent, or a nurse, or a salesman, or a soldier, or an NBA player, or--since this is Judson International School--a missionary? And besides, I‘m just going to forget it when I leave.” The most common response you will hear is, “Well, you might need it after all at some point in the future.” And that’s true, sometimes surprisingly so. What may seem to you now like useless rocks, nothing but added weight, may turn out to be gold one day. Knowledge is power. Another analogy I find helpful is to think of your brain as a muscle. People who lift weights in the gym are primarily making themselves better at squats and bench presses and arm curls, and those by themselves are not very practical in “real life.” But the strength they gain in the process is useful for all sorts of tasks. In the same way, math teaches you to think carefully and logically and to solve difficult abstract problems, even if you forget how to do logarithms. Science gives you an appreciation of and a mastery over the natural world even if you forget the difference between sulfides and sulfites. History, the study of the past, helps you understand the present--what human beings are like, the way things are now, why they are that way, and why they don’t have to be and probably won’t always be that way--even if you forget which Roman Emperor came after Claudius. English makes you better at speaking and writing, at organizing your thoughts, at paying attention to detail, at seeing patterns, at appreciating beauty, and at thinking about big issues, even if you forget which character is brutally murdered at the end of Pride and Prejudice. (Just kidding.) Furthermore, the better you get at any subject, the less painful it is, and you may even come to enjoy it for its own sake. And here’s something that they don’t usually tell you: all the hours in class listening to lectures, all the homework assignment sheets, all the essays, all the group projects, all the exams--they are training you to show up even when you don’t feel like it, to recognize authority, to follow directions, to plan ahead, to manage your time, to meet deadlines, to cooperate with others, to work hard even when you’re tired, and, very importantly, to endure boredom. These are skills that every job requires. I’m not kidding. Ask anyone.

High school is fun sometimes, but not always. If people tell you that your high school years will be the best time of your life, and it makes you want to throw yourself in front of the school bus, don’t worry--they’re probably wrong. Life will most likely get better after high school. But a lot of that depends on what rocks you pick up during high school. When your formal education is over, you may never get another opportunity to spend several years doing nothing but learning and developing your skills and character. Make the most of it while it lasts. Some rocks you should not expect to pick up, however, are (1) a soul mate, (2) a marketable skill, and (3) all the knowledge you will ever need for the rest of your life.

To use another rock metaphor, people at your age are like wet concrete. You are malleable, more than you realize. This is definitely not something to be ashamed of; it is an opportunity to seize. Everything about you, from the way you dress, to the music you listen to, to the beliefs and attitudes you hold, to your deepest character traits, will be molded into shape by others. By the time you are fully adults, the concrete will have set and become very difficult to change. And then eventually--I won’t say when--the concrete will become brittle and start to crumble! But right now you have the opportunity to choose who your molders are, and what form you will take. And you are responsible for who you become. From Bible times until today the Jews have initiated people about your age into adulthood by a ceremony called a bar mitzvah or bat mitzvah, which means “son of the covenant” or “daughter of the covenant.” That means that you are accountable to obey what is engraved by the finger of God on the two big stone tablets. In Christian terms, you are accountable for the fate of your eternal soul. Our susceptibility to peer pressure is part of how we are made as human beings, and is not in itself bad. Unfortunately, in high school you will almost definitely be subject to bad peer pressure, and there will be times when you will need to stand like a rock. How are you supposed to do that?

Though I’m far from an expert on this matter, I have two suggestions. The first is to think critically, to look at the big picture. Most of what people think is cool and uncool is arbitrary and what they have uncritically picked up from others. Try to stand back from the crowd and ask, “If celebrities have such miserable lives, why does everyone strive so hard to be like them? How many people actually like the so-called popular kids, and how many are just afraid of them? Is chewing gum really going to increase my sex appeal? Why are the guys in the chess club, or the Latin club, or the geology club so ostracized, and what exactly is wrong with getting good grades? Is getting stoned really worth it? Why are rock and hip hop so popular when jazz is clearly superior?” and so on. Find people who like you the way you are; people who make you sell out to be their friends don’t make good friends anyway. When someone says disdainfully, “You’re so sheltered,” realize that he probably means, “You’re different, and I can’t handle that.” When your parents embarrass you with their lack of coolness, realize that they were probably cool when they were in high school and that they think you’re weird, too. Unlike rocks, trends don’t last very long.

Second, and more importantly, Jesus said that the one “who hears my words and puts them into practice … is like a man building a house, who dug down deep and laid the foundation on a rock. When a flood came, the torrent struck that house but could not shake it, because it was well built.” You need to find your identity in the body of Christ. You need to judge the world’s values by the standard of God’s values, not vice versa. Practically speaking, this means time and effort and discipline: studying the Bible, praying, worshiping, being in fellowship with other believers. You may not be used to doing these on your own, or on your own initiative, but now is the time to start. They are essential parts of the mature Christian life. Try to be a witness, but don’t be discouraged if your seeds fall on rocky soil. You will be different, and that may be very difficult and even painful, but remember that diamonds are only formed under incredibly intense heat and pressure. Good night.