Summit Ministries

Along with the amazing study opportunities here in Oxford, I've had another great learning experience: a different style of life. At home I live in the huge city of Phoenix where cars rule the world. In the morning, I leave my family's home in the suburbs and commute to school. Shopping is done at Costco, and a truckload of groceries is deposited in our two refrigerators. I regularly travel 50 miles a day between going to school, coaching basketball, and running errands. The city is built on this principle of travel, with things spread out and a good highway system to connect everything. Here in Oxford (about 1/30 the number of people as Phoenix), walking and biking rule the world. I leave my six roommates and our four-story flat and walk to the library. Shopping is done every third day at the little Co-op grocery shop, and the two bags of food are placed in our split-into-sections refrigerator. I rarely travel more than five miles a day, but the city is laid out so that everything I need is within reach.

Growing accustomed to the difference took some time. It took a while to get comfortable estimating how long it would take me to get from one place to another. Forgetting necessary items became the mother of all sins. Each time I left the house, it felt like embarking upon an expedition. But now, nearing the end of my stay and looking back on the experience, I can honestly say it has broadened my horizons and given me an appreciation for a different way of living.

Chris Van Egmond
Fellow, Hilary Term '09

It is said that rowing is the quintessential Oxford thing to do. Perhaps boxing and rugby come close, but rowing really is it! So when I came to Oxford, I of course had to try it!

My college, Trinity College, is quite fanatical about rowing and it was easy to just let myself get sucked into the thrill (initially) and routine (eventually) of early morning outings on the Isis, seemingly endless sessions on rowing machines ('ergs' as they're called here), weight lifting sessions and technique practises in an indoor water-tank that has an adapted rowing boat in it and is surrounded by mirrors.

With a group of other fanatics, I became a rowing slave, always available, up before dawn, bearing cold and wind and rain... Warmed by the exercise, by the beauty of early morning nature, by the encouragement of the girls in my boat... Slowly getting the technique down (it's harder than it looks!), slowly getting in shape and ever deepening the bond with my fellow boaties. It's amazing what shared sleep-deprivation, burning lungs, blistered hands and aching limbs can do to forge loyalties... Not to speak of the shared adrenaline of rowing in races together... Where you inevitably reach that point where it feels you've given everything you have to give and would under other circumstances give up-- but you cannot because your boat depends on you... You're in it together so you must go on... somehow tapping into resources you never thought you had.

Torpids, the most recent Oxford inter-collegiate race, was my highlight. For four consecutive days boats from different colleges line up with 1½ lengths apart and attempt to catch and 'bump' (hit) the boat they're chasing, while avoiding being bumped by the boat chasing them. It's great fun and a bit crazy if you think about how expensive these boats are! The coveted 'blades' are won when your boat bumps every day of the race. Torpids is held at the River Isis, and every university student comes out to the boathouses it seems, to cheer their respective college on. It was just great to be part of all the excitement. And (said with true Trinity pride) Trinity College was the most successful college on the water! Woo hoop! All our hard work paid off!

Rowing has been a blessing. Not only have I met some amazing people, was part of a great team, represented my college and became physically very fit, I've also been stretched beyond what I thought I was capable of. All of which reasons why rowing is the quintessential Oxford thing to do!

Emilie Noteboom
Fellow, Hilary Term '09

The Summit Oxford fellows have begun a new era. Our Oxford tutorials have run their natural courses, and we are now engaged in all the depth and intensity of worldview training with Mr. Bywater. It has been nice to read the same books and share a schedule with my Summit Oxford colleagues. Every day that we meet at the Bywater's house in Eynsham (a small village west of Oxford) is a glorious occasion to refresh our minds in the Scriptures, and the times of relaxation and fellowship in the evenings have been delightful occasions.

Not only is the nature of our study changed, the whole city has assumed the mantle of spring. Trees that I once shivered under on my way into town are now in full blossom. The sun shows itself for days at a time, and even provides the long desired warmth. The Oxford tutorials themselves were not cold or dreary, but the weather doesn't always match the nature of my activities.

Our Summit material has been focused on religions and philosophies that consider the Bible as a holy text or at least a tributary. Mormonism, Cosmic Humanism and Islam all claim portions or certain interpretations of the Bible as an authoritative text. Through studying the alternate interpretations of the Bible that these religions use, a clear contrast can be seen between Christianity and the other religions based, at least in part, on the Bible. I've learned a great deal about how to discover the meaning of a passage of scripture through considering the context of the immediate passage and the whole canon. It is clear to me that proper bible interpretation is of utmost importance for Christians.

But as I am taught how to read the Bible more accurately, I can't help but ponder my own weakness. I wonder what assistance I can offer to my fellow man who does not worship the Lord. I know very little, but I know that much. I am weak, as they are weak, but I know someone strong. Chesterton described it quite marvelously:

Yea, we are mad as they are mad,
Yea, we are blind as they are blind,
Yea, we are very sick and sad
Who bring good news to all mankind.

As we enter the final month of study in Oxford, I am reminded again at what a joy it is to be here, and how grateful I am to all the family and friends who support and pray for me. This term has been, and will continue to be, a formative and inspiring chance to provide a foundation for my occupation as servant of God.

Thomas Phippen
Fellow, Hilary Term '09

Clouds! I'm really kind of obsessed with them. It seems that it really doesn't matter where you are; clouds are beautiful. On a bus ride home from Eynsham the other day, I was struck yet again by an amazing skyscape. Seen from the top of a double-decker bus, stretching out over fields and trees, lit by the setting sun, the clouds rose in ranks of puffed majesty. It was simple joy to relax in my seat and let my eyes feast on the splendor God created as the bus raced and swayed on the journey home. In recent days, I've seen clouds out the window, rolling by with visible speed, changing shape before my eyes. In Rome, they formed a moody backdrop, cresting the ruins of ancient power in light and shadow. Back home in Arizona, the desert sky exhibits some of the most amazing sunsets imaginable, and the clouds glow pink and red and orange. Once, in Russia, I sat upon a boat in the Gulf of Finland and wondered at the simple size of the sky above me. It seemed so big, scattered clouds going on forever in every direction. I suppose, like a good American, I'm a consumer of clouds. I take pleasure in them all: white, grey, and red, glowing or opaque, moving or standing still, dropped in a deep blue sea. But this kind of consumption is a kinder, gentler sort. I can take as much as I desire without lessening the supply. Others, I hope, will do the same and receive the same joy.

Changing gears a little bit--okay, quite a bit--I'd like to mention time and the use of it. I don't have the answers, but maybe you can identify with my questions. I'm not really sure how to use my time. There are so many things worth doing and not enough time to do them. There are books worth reading, things worth learning, people worth knowing, and places worth going. Money has to be earned, chores have to be done, the future has to be considered, and I have to sleep... How do I balance these things? And then to complicate the matter, I've been given free choice (whose bright idea was that, anyway?). Even once I've balanced my activities, I have to choose which books to read, which things to learn, which future to pursue, and how many seconds of sleep to squeeze in. How do I make these choices? I have to admit, the idea of endless eternal eternity forever after death is somewhat terrifying to me at times, but at least there will be time to do everything--sort of (philosophical discussions of time and eternity deferred to another day). Here and now, even a reasonable grasp of important priorities fails to provide enough guidance for day-to-day decisions. I know God has a plan; I know I want to follow it; I know how to ask Him; but it's still difficult, and I'm still not entirely sure how to use my time.

This is the point where clouds come back in again. There's something so amazing about sitting back and appreciating the view. It's a chance for joy in the moment. The decisions still need to be made, and they are still important, but there's one more thing I need to be sure to do along the way. I need to take time to enjoy things as they come. God is in the habit of putting beauty in the way, but I can only benefit if I take time to appreciate it. In the midst of the choices and the pressures, I know that God is in control. I don't always know which path to take or what to be doing in preparation for the future, but I do know God wants me to enjoy the journey, and I'll start by observing the clouds.

Chris Van Egmond
Fellow, Hilary Term '09

Today marks my one-week anniversary of the beginning of the springtime of my soul (freedom from weekly essays). It may be that my outlook on life has changed, but it seems that spring has arrived in Oxford within the past week as well; weather has been between 10 and 20 (about an average of 55 for my Fahrenheit friends) and I have never seen as many daffodils as Oxford boasts in middle March. Don't get me wrong, my nine weeks of studying at Oxford University were incredibly rewarding, and I learned loads from the tutorial system that I hope to be implementing in Summit work, when I go back to Hillsdale, and the rest of my life--but I want a little more distance from the term before I outline everything that I have gleaned from my studies.

So this week I have spent distancing myself from the past nine. Somehow, this week has felt longer than any of my other weeks here; it seems I have had more time to relax both with friends and by myself. I spent a lot of money at a French Market to make a decadent array of breads, cheeses, olives, artichokes, wine, and fruit and then invited friends over to enjoy it with me. Every one of those Elizabeth II's was worth it. At different times with different friends I was able to get a little bit of a movie-fix. I watched several episodes of The Office (the British version) as well as Wallace and Gromit (A Close Shave), and a Chuck Norris movie. I also traveled about twenty miles southwest of Oxford to Uffington to visit The Vale of the White Horse. Three friends and I enjoyed exerting ourselves on the steep hills to see the gigantic chalk horse dating to big number B.C.'s, the hill of a legendary battle between King Arthur and a dragon, an Iron Age fort, a Roman road, and a mysterious Neolithic burial site. We could not have asked for a more beautiful day: It was foggy at first, but as we hiked the fog slowly lifted allowing us to enjoy the incredible vantage.

I also picked up The Fellowship of the Ring, and have thoroughly enjoyed reading it again. If I was not before, I am becoming a believer in the detoxifying powers of fantasy. During a short meal and reprieve from the fear of the black riders, Frodo, Sam, and Pippin sing:

Ho! Ho! Ho! to the bottle I go
To heal my heart and drown my woe.
Rain may fall and wind may blow,
And many miles be still to go,
But under a tall tree I will lie,
And let the clouds go sailing by.

Joy Lynn Yoder
Fellow, Hilary Term '09

A wise person, who I would name if I remembered him, once alluded that no one could be a hero who had not begun to be honest. Honesty, that is, honesty with myself about myself, appears to be a foundational virtue to life, and unfortunately one that I lack.

Before I got to Oxford and during the first few weeks here, I was advised about the Oxford tutorial system. It is based on self-discipline. You will learn nothing unless you go to find it out yourself, I was told.

I suspect that is the only way to learn at any college, but at my college in the States we have these things called classes (they seem so distant now) where the information is presented to the student. But it is the student's responsibility, if they are to learn anything, to meet the information half-way. In a way, I paid to come to Oxford to escape the classroom. I paid to sit in the library and think for myself under the kind guidance of my dons, who at all times held my education in top priority.

It's not the difficulty alone, it's the type of work required that made this term a struggle for me. The difficulty came because I didn't (don't) know how to think.

Before the term started, I tried to imagine what Oxford study would look like. I imagined sitting in the library for days at a time, pouring through countless volumes, or just one, to find that piece of information that would answer my well formulated question. This was not the case. Whether by my failure of imagination or by my failure of discipline (or more likely a combination of both), that is not exactly what my study looked like.

My study was more of a struggle, working long hours on not much sleep, with a sore body from the many days already spent sitting, reading through volumes which were relevant, but painful to get through (I must be the slowest reader in Oxford). I searched for answers, but each answer seemed to lead to a dozen more questions, which is where discipline is really necessary. I had no idea that I was incapable of sustained thought (I had not even thought of it).

Now that my Oxford tutorials are complete, I'm trying to give a much needed perspective to the term. Before we begin the worldview studies with Mr. Bywater, Chris and I will make a five-day excursion to Rome, to see the sights and perhaps even get some much-desired rest. Having finished my last tutorial and studied in the Radcliffe Camera for the last time, I have a mixture of feelings.

I am already beginning to miss the long afternoons in New College library, when I would be so absorbed in the affairs of medieval kings that I'd be aware of the passage of time only from the bells in the Tower. After the relief of finishing the tutorials, I feel an enormous sense of gratitude for being able to be here, among the books and the thousands of dedicated scholars, where I have attempted to engage in honest study.

Thomas Phippen
Fellow, Hilary Term '09

I, for one, am exhausted. The other guys still have a couple essays left, but my early finale was dearly bought and paid for. I really didn't know I could read and write that much in the course of a week, and as one of my friends observed, "Your eyes look tired." I guess 7 hours of straight writing an will do that to you. Yet, there is a certain sense of accomplishment at coming to the end of a grueling race. Once the pain wears off, you feel satisfied. The last 8 weeks have been an amazing experience. Taking lessons from excellent, knowledgeable tutors, attending debates at the Oxford Union, getting to see so much history, meeting other Christians from so many cultural backgrounds, having a group of friends to go through the experience together: all in all, one of the most challenging, enjoyable experiences of my life. And it's not over yet!

Next up is a quick break, and then Summit study begins in earnest. I'm really looking forward to this opportunity. Our Friday afternoon meetings throughout the course of the term have been quite engaging as we've examined Scriptures and discussed their meanings. I always love a good discussion (argument?!), and it's great to be able to have them with such a committed group of students from so many different backgrounds and, of course, Mr. Bywater. His level of commitment and enthusiasm are amazing and really put the life into the discussions (and no, he didn't pay me to say that). I'm especially looking forward to our discussions of Islam since I began reading the Quran a while back during some conversations with a Muslim friend, and now am looking forward to finishing it and learning more about it and the Islamic faith.

Chris Van Egmond
Fellow, Hilary Term '09

Just as I'm beginning to get into a solid routine I realize I'm in the last week of tutorials! One expects 8 weeks of school to go by very slowly. But when you're busy, time seems to get away. Not to mention that when one is used to a 15-week semester system, 8 weeks is a sprint.

The quality of my tutorial meetings has grown better. Initially, I thought it was hard to 'overcome' the knowledge gap between the don and me. I haven't become an expert in 7 weeks, but I can certainly have a conversation now. That has been encouraging.

The tutorial system has been eye-opening. I'm sure I'll look back on it in the coming months and years and see it with new perspective, but even now I can sense lasting effects. For instance, I never fully appreciated the degree to which education is an individual pursuit. With any education, there is certainly a great deal of privilege involved, and having great teachers and great libraries is of inestimable value. But to a great extent, the quality of my education will be determined by me. As Richard Mitchell hinted at in The Gift of Fire, we can't learn something, only I can! Oxford forces you to seek out the information on your own. And, of course, you get helped and corrected by your tutor, but this comes along the way, not beforehand.

If nothing else, it can change your level of academic discipline. This town is an academic culture. If you're not working hard, doing the work, you don't fit in, so to speak. For anyone who plays sports, it's like the first time you see professionals play up-close. Their discipline, their speed and efficiency, their techniques, change the way you play the game. The influence is inevitable. I routinely spend long hours in the libraries, and yet, I see many students who were there before me, and are there long after I leave! When I sit close to someone else in a library, I love to spy and see their ways of taking notes. It's plagiarism--the good kind.

Colin Johnson
Fellow, Hilary Term '09

Seventh week is upon us and it's hard to believe that the term is almost over. We'll officially be done by the end of next week. Looking back, there are a great number of things that I appreciate about being here at (and in) Oxford. It's been a great experience culturally and academically.

There's something about living in a foreign country that I've found both unsettling and yet makes me proud to be an American. Many of the British students that I've talked to have a better grasp on current American politics than I do (which is kind of embarrassing, but also reaffirmed my suspicions that America is the center of the universe). On Sundays I attend St. Ebbes church, and it has been encouraging (as well as refreshing) to gather every Sunday with non-Americans to worship. The service I attend is mostly made up of students, making it a fairly diverse congregation. So far (between attending services and a bible study) I've met British students, a guy from the Netherlands, several students from China, and a Frenchman. It's a much more globally minded environment that I'm not accustomed to as an American. A good example of this is a prayer that was prayed during one Sunday morning service. The man that was praying prayed for Obama before he prayed for his own Prime Minister. I asked myself, "How many times have I prayed for the leaders of other countries? How often do I even pray for my own president?" I also thought, "What? Are we in so much trouble that Obama takes precedence over Gordon Brown?" Like I said: a bit unsettling.

On the academic side, I've found this term very challenging, especially since I'm studying philosophy (I have no background in philosophy; I'm an English/Music man). Despite the difficulties (perhaps because of the difficulties) I feel like my reasoning and comprehension abilities have improved exponentially. My tutors have been patient, understanding, and genuinely concerned with my progress. I have yet to receive an official grade on my work, so I'm not sure how I'm doing. Marks come only at the end of the term--perturbing most. I've found that it has helped me focus on actually learning and understanding the material. I'm not trying to meet some grade standard: I'm driven by trying to achieve genuine progress. In fact, I think I've learned most from my worst essays. I guess I'll soon find out how progress looks as a GPA.

Daniel Maycock
Fellow, Hilary Term '09

Well, here we are in 6th week. Time is flying, and it's hard to believe the term is winding down. However, I'd like to take a moment to reflect on where I am. I never really get tired of thinking about it, but with essay deadlines to meet, friends to see, activities to attend, and places to explore, it sometimes gets lost in the shuffle, temporarily. Then I come up for air and look around, and I love what I see. Oxford is a beautiful town. Okay, maybe not all of it, but I never get tired of walking among the old stone buildings or past the Oxford University Press every day (such a bastion of literature and history). I don't know the history behind every building, or the stories in every square, but it's enchanting, nonetheless, to walk through the street market and imagine a tradition stretching back a thousand years. My college, New College, looks like a castle itself. Its old stone walls, massive gate, vaulted wooden doors, and echoing passageways could have time-warped out of the past. One of my tutors has her office in a tower, up a narrow spiral staircase. Everywhere I look, the architecture, design, and colors bear witness to a past that I am privileged to follow. I love my home in Phoenix, but a fifty-year-old city just can't compete in the imagination with this modern medieval town. Then there are the fields and the meadows and the rivers floating in the mist that to a desert rat like me seem like a mirage or a movie. It's such an amazing thing for me to be here, and it's an experience I will never forget.

Of course, frustrations come, and the rain can be annoying. Slush in the streets that closes down a country is quite an interesting phenomenon. When the heating doesn't work, or the stove doesn't work, or the shower doesn't work, or you have three essays due in a week, or your credit and debit cards all decide to quit on you at the same time, or your bike refuses to unlock itself from the rack 2 miles from home, things can get testy. But what would living be without these experiences as well, and there's always the kabob man in the square, serving lamb doner that blows your mind. There are the great friendships, the camaraderie through the stress, and the times when your friend exclaims, "My quality of life just went through the roof," or howls in agony and then systematically hunts down and murders the fly that landed in his soup. What can I say? I wouldn't trade these times for the world.

Chris Van Egmond
Fellow, Hilary Term '09