Dr. Jay Martinson An expert in the art and science of communicating, a recipient of the Richard M. Jones Faculty Award for Teaching Excellence, a gifted communicator in his own right and a master teacher at the baccalaureate, master's and doctoral levels, Dr. Jay Martinson serves as the chair of the communication department and the director of Olivet's interdisciplinary minor in leadership studies. Armed with a Ph.D and master's degree from the University of Illinois, he teaches a variety of communication courses, including public speaking, interpersonal communication, organizational communication, intercultural communication and leadership.
Alongside me sat an infinitely patient man who desperately wanted me to see that which could not be seen, touched or held — but yet was still very real. Math was a fearful, foreign world to me. But to my architect/ engineer dad, it was a dream vacation. And he desperately wanted me to come along. “Just draw a picture.” These four words of my father are still stamped on my math memories. Trust me, I had mindlessly drawn plenty of pictures, but the ones of Woody Woodpecker and Bugs Bunny in the margins were not helpful. If it was a calculus problem with parabolic curves, he made me sketch it on the legal pad as a picture. Solving for X and Y? A picture. Finding the space in some unnatural and ridiculous shape? A picture. For my dad, looking up the answer in the back of the book was not an option. “Just draw a picture.” The unknown could become known if it could be seen. And then there were the story problems — two trains, four people, a car, an elephant, a herd of cattle and shifting weather patterns. Well, they seemed this complicated to me anyway. Not so, however, to the suddenly animated architect. Story problems, even the worst of them, could be solved with a good picture. If I could just see it, he reasoned, then the problem could be solved. And regardless of how impossibly complicated the story problem was, my dad would draw it, see it and solve it. I guess all of life is about solving story problems. Although I’ve never had to calculate the timing of trains and cattle, my story problems have involved things far more serious — like marriage, friendships, prodigal teenagers, my kids’ marriages, having more month than money, disappointment, death and more fears than I care to list here. There are no simple answers printed in the back of the book.
For my story problems, vision brings hope. If I just focus on what is, I tend to ask unhelpful questions. Like: Why me? Why doesn’t someone do something? I get so lost in the story problems that I can’t move forward. I’m stuck with elbows locked on the kitchen table, waiting for a miracle while doing nothing. Vision draws me a picture. Vision asks questions like: What could be? What must I do to get there? How have I been too focused on myself instead of serving others? Have I been fighting obstacles instead of surrendering them to the Lord? Can I do the right thing, trusting the results to God? How can I inspire others to join me? Recently, my eight-year-old son was trying to make money by selling stories he had written on stapled sheets of colored construction paper. Only 25 cents each! He looked shocked when I told him I wanted to buy the whole stack; I wanted them all. The Lord wants all of our stories, too. He wants our comedies, dramas and tragedies. He wants the happy, as well as the not-so-happy, endings. He’s especially interested in the ones where we feel lost and unable to see where we’re headed. We are not alone. As the Master Architect of the universe, He sits alongside us in infinite patience. He draws us a plan to prosper and not harm us. He draws us hope and a future. Sharpen your pencil. Get your elbows off the table. Stop staring at the ghostly images of mistakes you’ve been trying to erase. Let go of the crumbles. Turn to a new page. Ask new questions. Set a new vision. Draw a picture. See what can be. The answers in the back of the Book promise victory. You are not alone. The math is simple.
But my dad was right. Problems are solved by seeing what can’t be seen, touched or held. Life requires vision that provides clarity beyond the mere senses.
WWW.OLIVET.EDU
25