I’m the kind of person who looks at a piece of furniture or the panel of a car door or an underwater tunnel and thinks:
How did they make this?
One thing I’ve learned from carpentry over the years is that a major part of good craftsmanship is actually hiding how a thing is made. When I first starting building furniture, I used a lot of wood putty to cover holes and screw heads. But with every project, I learned the angles of woodworking and how to hide the screws and avoid putty altogether.
Early on, I took the same approach to pastoral ministry. My sermons, the service, church programs, they were most successful, in my mind, when all of the screws were hidden. “Seamlessness is next to godliness”—or something of the sort.
The problem was that while aiming at craftsmanship, I was failing to teach well.
Several years into ministry, I was listening to a lunch conversation where a seasoned pastor was explaining the benefit of clunkier services. He said,
“To be a good teacher, you’ve got to let the seams show.”
It rubbed me raw. I had been aiming for the aesthetically intuitive, the beautifully understated, and here was a guy saying we should stop between elements of a worship service and spell everything out with crayons like we were teaching 4 year-olds.
Of course, he was absolutely right.
The beauty of craftsmanship is also its curse—it’s nearly impossible to figure out how it’s made! As teachers in our churches, schools, and homes, letting the seams show is part of passing on our craft to the next generation.
Over the years, I’ve begun to abandon the sophisticated and seamless in favor of the simple and sincere.
It’s the little things. Talking to students about my personal habits or the how and why of my lesson planning. Taking time to share stories only adjacently related to a topic simply to show that, yes, I too am human. Asking questions that I myself haven’t settled the answer to. Allowing students to watch me attempt, fail, and try again—learning in front of them in real time.
More and more, I’m trying to let the seams of my parenting show. The seams of my marriage show. The seams of my faith, my reading, my life.
Because when my seams begin to show, others can see how a thing is made. And that is when students can begin to imitate the pattern—and hopefully, improve the pattern altogether.
Tea Time!
We had a first this past weekend: The Hutch catered tea time for The Lost Tea Room in Marietta, SC.
A neighbor’s family hosts the afternoon events quarterly and asked us to make lots of dainty little sweets for their dessert tier.
It was a fun new challenge. We made four different items, some of our Hutch standards and a couple new options. The almond macaroons with chocolate ganache were the fan favorite (they’re Mindy’s favorite also, with the biscotti a very close second).
It’s been fun to watch The Hutch grow here in Greenville! Stop by on a Thursday or Saturday to get a taste!