Have you ever noticed that all the theory you learn in college takes on its real meaning only after you’ve practiced it for a while? Courses on teaching, for example, give you many accurate statements about students, classroom management, lesson plans, and so forth. But really, these make sense only once you actually have to teach for a term. 


Or take driving. We read the manual, go to all the classes, memorize all the answers, and then ace the written test! A new sixteen-year-old-driver, the day after his test, could tell the officer with much more accuracy than the seasoned veteran, how far from the curb he should be parked. But still, the insurance on that new driver is sky-high compared to the driver with thirty years’ experience. Why is this?


Between the teaching course and the classroom, between the written test and the license, is a very important period of training. We call it student teaching, or we call it driver training. During this period, the driver-to-be or teacher-to-be has opportunity to practice under the gaze of an expert, and receive pointers and tips right at the moment. Wise words often don’t ring true until they’ve been tested with experience, and so often the amateur doesn’t connect that word with this situation. A teacher needs to point it out. For example: “Remember about yielding to oncoming traffic? That is oncoming traffic; you yield to it.” “Ohhh….” murmurs the student. The three-dimensional world of traffic looks very different from words printed on a page.


But why am I talking about drivers’ ed and about student teaching? Isn’t this an article about Christian formation?


For this reason: the three-dimensional world of Christian living often looks different from what we expect as young people, even after years of teaching from pulpits and parents. What does honor really look like, fleshed out and in everyday time? It looks great in theory, and in stories. It doesn’t always feel so great to live it out. The young Christian can think, “This must be wrong. That can’t be honor (or charity, or temperance, or chastity). Surely I don’t have to do that.” A community of wise older disciples should be there to insist, “Actually, that’s it exactly,” or “What you must do is this.” 


And it is a community. Consider: No driving teacher would teach a student, “This is my own personal style of driving.” No; you are entering a community of drivers. If you don’t want to crash, do this. Master teachers shouldn’t allow the novice much leeway for “individual expression.” The whole point is to teach the pattern initially, and style and expression will come naturally with time (and are overrated today, anyway). And wouldn’t it be great, not just to avoid crashes, but even to flourish and be beautiful in the craft you are learning? This doesn’t come by chance. “Amateurs wait for inspiration,” I heard recently. “The rest of us just get up and go to work." This quote from a visual artist applies to many areas of life.


So we need a place within the church today for young Christians, where they can be formed and directed by the church before they go out “on their own,” where there is more danger to the soul. In recognition of this, we have organized a year-long internship program called Lindisfarne House, in which interns will aid the work of St. Thomas parish, specifically its school St. Andrew’s Academy. To this internship we invite young Christians, college-age or thereabouts (though we have no age restriction) who want to serve the church, and allow it to form them, for a short and focused season, in anticipation for the whole course of their lives. 


Christian Formation at Lindisfarne House


Experience a Catholic Vision of Christian

Discipleship Within The Anglican Tradition