Something Larger Than Me

My Ethics Bowl coach has many sayings,

but one always lingers in the back of my mind—

“it’s about something larger than you.”

I am on a bus riding back to school, in the black of night.

My friends and I are celebrating and laughing,

energized by today’s regional win,

which secures our place at the National High School Ethics Bowl.

In this midst of this excitement,

our coach quietly interrupts and huddles the team together.

He proceeds, for a short time, to commend us for our victory,

and then quickly drops that line again—

remember, he says, displaying a picture of his infant daughter,

“it’s about something bigger than you.”

I’ve heard this phrase frequently over the past two years,

but it wasn’t until recently that I really understood what it meant.

The implications of this saying are essentially limitless,;

I’m sure that as time passes, I will continue to understand it,

only in different ways.

Right now, though, the phrase has two special meanings for me—

the importance of philosophy and the value of teamwork.

Ethics Bowl isn’t just about what I get out of my participation.

Sure, I thoroughly enjoy the discussions that we have,

and yes, I do take pride in returning to Nationals for the third consecutive year.

At its core, though, Ethics Bowl isn’t really about recognizing the best public speakers or the friendliest team.

It’s about fostering critical thinking and meaningful group conversations.

It’s about promoting collaboration and teamwork.

It’s about something larger than me.

This mantra has expanded its reach into other areas of my life.

There have been times when I have been forced to make choices that benefited my community,

even if it meant that I would have to incur some degree of loss.

Choices that resulted in decisions where I recognized that the problem impacted those beyond me.

In December of 2015,

I was nominated by my church to serve on the Associate Pastor Nominating Committee, or the APNC.

Eventually, we were left with one candidate.

The rest of the committee voted to hire her,

but the decision needed to be unanimous—

it would then be determined

entirely by my vote.

I was in a position where I had to choose between many competing interests.

On one hand, the APNC had been searching for almost a full year;

the members, including myself, were growing weary of searching.

At the same time, I had to consider the interests of the church.

I suspected that this candidate was not truly called to Youth Ministry,

the area that she would be working in if she were to be hired.

I knew that hiring a candidate who was not completely invested in her field would be detrimental not only for that candidate,

but for the entire congregation.

The youth group would be led without passion,

and the younger children may not form a sense of community.

At this moment, I realized that this decision was larger than me.

It wasn’t about how tired and frustrated I was with the search process.

It was about my congregation and the future of my church.

Ultimately, I was the sole dissenting vote—

the candidate was not hired,

and the APNC continued on with our search.