A Letter from Cairn to You
My Dear Cairn Students,
Though this is altogether difficult for me to record, and requires me to tap into a source of out-of-character vulnerability, I find myself overflowing with words I wish to share with you. After decades of silence, and in finally mustering the courage, I have decided to pen my musings.
I am an older university, have worked for over a hundred years, and am marked with the footsteps of hundreds of students. I have shared in many joys, in many losses, in many tragedies. I have opened my doors to those who would one day become pastors, teachers, business people, performers, leaders, and servants. Though I wish to not equate myself with that of a machine, I do delight in knowing I aided in producing some of our world’s brightest leaders.
Over the years, though my locations, names, and appearances have changed, my mission has remained steadfast: to serve you. With my books and documents, my classrooms and lecture halls, my staircases and chairs—you, dear students, have been the reason for my toil. You, students, are the reason for my beginning.
Now, lest we forget the Master Builder, Who constructed my foundation within the hearts of men; my beginning originating as a simple passion. He is the One who deserves the credit; I am only a mere vessel to carry out His plan, a mere eyeglass to assist His vision.
Many of my presidents have come and gone, along with many professors, secretaries, landscapers, chefs, and the like—these people, these servants, have sought to achieve the ultimate end, just as I have. For decades, these servants have come together within my walls for you, dear students, striving to project the ultimate vision of the Master.
Though I like to think of myself as being a university of character, of legitimacy, of legacy, and of grace, I understand, as with every university, there are pitfalls and weaknesses within my construction. Though I am rooted in Christ, I know there are cracks in my walls and loose stones in my stairwells.
My dear students—I wish to remind you of my faults and disparagements, with the purpose of encouraging you with yours. Though I have my cobwebs and dust, I still stand to greet new visitors each passing day. Though I have my fair share of old carpets and loose bolts, the Master Builder still delights in my timeless literature, classic paintings, and memories infused within each square foot.
I strive to remind myself that my service is not centered on the condition of my building, but rather on the hearts of those that reside inside; those that wake each morning, commute to my classrooms, prepare their lessons, and center their day around you, around your learning. And perhaps most importantly, my service is centered on those that sit in my classrooms, traverse my halls, laugh through my thresholds—centered on you, dear students.
I strive to remind you that the Master Builder, the Creator, has a plan and a vision for you, just as He has one for me. No matter your cobwebs, dust, stains, or cracks, the vision will last. Your purpose is immutable, your foundation unshakeable.
Remember that over the years, the decades, though your location, appearance, and active personnel will change, your purpose will remain the same. The vision planned for you will continue to unfold, and your purpose will not only glorify the Creator, but assist your fellow peers, your fellow vessels.
Thus, ends the reading of my musings. I pray, and hope, you will meditate on my words. If they fail to encourage or influence you to higher thinking, or fail to cause your gaze to glance upward to our Creator, I pray my cobwebs and cracks may instead remind you to fix your gaze on things above.
Faithfully yours, now and forever,