I was recently watching Jacob Collier (a 22 year old multi-instrumentalist prodigy) give a lecture to music students at MIT. While watching, I was reminded of something.

At one point in his lecture, he makes a shocking statement, he says he was never told to practice. He was only encouraged to love music. Passion, not discipline was not the path to musical genius.

Now this is not most musicians’ story, I understand that, but it sparked an idea in me I thought was worth sharing.

Listening to Jacob Collier got me thinking about how much I love music, and how I really ought to open up my old HS theory books and practice, maybe work on learning a new song. Seeing his love for music inspired me.

Many of us are probably familiar with this phenomena. We see someone light up about something, or maybe create something truly beautiful, and we ourselves vicariously become infatuated (even if only for a short season). I believe this contagious love sits at the heart of learning, and that much of our educational system has simply missed it.

There are many different models of education, and much theory about how students learn. I am not an expert on the matter and will not pretend to be. However, I am currently on the student’s side of two methods, and I have a preference.

In my less engaging classes, the professors lecture students on the topic. They “hand over” information (often loaded with the professor’s biases and supporting data) to the students, and ask them to accept the information and memorize it. Through repetition and the motivation of testing, they get the students to absorb said information.

In my more engaging classed (I am thinking specifically of one professor I’ve had), the professor presents a topic of contention, and then asks the students to read a series of academic papers and essays from either side of the debate (and anywhere in between) and then formulate their own opinion on the topic. The students do the said research and come to class prepared to converse. The professor nearly always begins discussion (whether as an essay prompt or in the classroom) by asking a blunt and over-simplified question that students have to answer and give supporting argument for. No answer is incorrect, only poorly argued or insufficiently thought through.

This method of education is sometimes called the “problem-solving” method. The students have to analyze an issue, formulate ideas, and come to a solution on their own. Many argue it is through this process that students actually learn, and that when students are “handed” information and expected to believe it, they are being taught to be uncritical thinkers. In this method, the more ideological freedom the student has, the more success they will experience.

The problem is that this method falls short if the student has no interest in or love of the topic. This must create fear on the part of the educator, fear that if the student is given the freedom, they will either become lazy or uncritical, arriving at sloppy conclusions, and giving themselves a bad education.

This is where we come back to Jacob Collier. Regardless of their field of study, most students don’t have the self-motivation that Jacob has. Why?

Well I don’t know. I’m sure it has something to do with all the high dopamine-producing activities that surround us and demand our time and energy with little to no reward (Netflix, social media, video games, etc.). But I can say for myself that I learn most during the summers, I listen to podcasts, read, take notes, and absorb tons of information.

I arrive back at school each Fall excited to share my learning and grow, however, about halfway through each semester, I run out of steam and lose motivation (something many of us students are experiencing during COVID-19). Why does this always happen?

Each semester, I am force-fed tons of information, and asked to think very little about any of it. And most significantly, I am not asked to think about the importance of what I am learning.

This is the whole crux of what I am rambling about: I believe the primary goal of education must be to teach the students to love, not to learn. If a student studies diligently for 4 years, and the only reason why they studied was to obtain a degree, they will not study after that degree is obtained.

However, if a student is taught why something is important, why a field of study is beautiful and significant in meaning, they stand a chance of being actual learners. If they are taught to love their field, instead of just endure it, they might just study post-graduation.

For this to happen, I believe that professors, teachers, and lecturers everywhere need to themselves love what they teach. I have never been less motivated to learn than when studying under a professor who has no motivation to teach. It’s the same concept we discussed earlier: that love is contagious. Once our teachers are passionate, our students stand a chance of becoming “infected.” I can’t tell you how many fellow-students I have talked to who changed their major based on their love for a certain professor.

Donald Miller, in one of my favorite books ever, “Blue Like Jazz” makes this observation in the author’s note.

“I never liked jazz music because jazz music doesn’t resolve. But I was outside the Bagdad Theater in Portland one night when I saw a man playing the saxophone. I stood there for fifteen minutes, and he never opened his eyes.

After that I liked jazz music.

Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way.

I used to not like God because God didn’t resolve. But that was before any of this happened.” (Miller, ix)

Unfortunately, a lack of academic fervor plagues many in my field of study, and I study God (what a funny statement, as if anyone could really study God. Really I study how man relates to God, maybe more specifically, how God related to man by becoming a man, so that you and I could not just study, but get to know God, anyway). I am currently working on my Masters of Divinity with a concentration in Islamic Studies (essentially I study the Abrahamic faiths in preparation for being a lifelong student and peacemaker). While studying, I have uncovered a great tragedy that sometimes I wish I had not. Many pastors get their degree for no other reason than to stamp validation on their pre-existing ideas, and to obtain a right to share these ideas from a stage.

The word for a “disciple” (the word used to refer to those who follow of Christ in the Greek New Testament) is the Koine Greek word μαθητής, which is the participial form of the verb μανθάνω, which is the verb for “to learn.” Basically, what I’m trying to say is that the direct translation of the word “disciple” is “learner.”

It is my belief that those who follow Christ are called to be open-minded and critical learners. However, it doesn’t always play out that way, does it? And I’m not blaming or shaming anyone over this fact, merely calling for change, and not just change in how we study God, but how we live.

According to the first two chapters of the Hebrew Old Testament, humans are designed to be creative. They are to “image” God in bringing beauty of out of the bland, order out of the chaos, and are to create that which is life-giving and sustainable to others out of selflessness (Tim Mackie, A Theology of Work Part 1). How different would our learning look like, if this was our primary goal?

I hope those of you that have endured my long-winded rant on learning and love walk away with one thing: a new vision of work and study. A vision for passion, love, zeal, and inspiration. I hope that whoever you are, whatever your beliefs are, and whatever you find yourself studying or working at, you are encouraged to do it with all of your heart and with all of your mind. To engage your knowledge and your loves. I hope you find a community and mentors who encourage you to find meaning and engage passion. I hope that your zeal melts into discipline without you even noticing, and that you join others in the task of participating in the Kingdom of Heaven on earth in a way that really matters.

Works Cited

Mackie, Tim. “A Theology of Work Part 1- A Story about Work.” Exploring My Strange Bible. August 30, 2017. Accessed 04/18/2020, Apple Podcast App.

Miller, Donald. Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality. Thomas Nelson, Nashville, TN, 2003.