Griffin Jackson

After a few years spent correcting grammatical errors and writing subtle, clever headlines in a Chicago newsroom, Griffin Paul Jackson (’11) now does aid work with refugees in Lebanon. He writes about that, God, and, when the muse descends, Icelandic sheep. Read him here: griffinpauljackson.com.

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I Won’t Be Far

I am not going to a warzone. I am going to the house next door, treated in Syria’s conflagration as the westward gutter, collecting blood and people.

Being Peaceful

It is nigh impossible to neither seek nor desire our own justice, to remove the impulse for vengeance, to love utter mercy. But so too is it impossible to be holy as He is holy, and still that is our aim.

A Web of Impossible Politics

We should vote and be thankful that we can, but we also need to ask: how can I regain a love of politics when politicians represent parties instead of people?

Faith and Work

We should all be able to answer the question: “How does your faith affect your work?” But maybe an even more appropriate question is, “How does your work inform your faith?”

The World is Larger Still

This is a source of regret for me now. I had ample opportunity to learn, maintain, and grow my language skills, but, quite simply, it wasn’t a priority.

Sheer, Stupid Inertia

It’s this inertia that, very possibly, will find us waking up in ten years in a job we never really planned on, thinking, How did I get here? This was supposed to be for the summer.

Slowly

No life is a cliché. Ever. Because you are you and no one else—and the fact that it’s a cliché to say it doesn’t make it a cliché to live it.

My Year in Data

I’m all for having a Mint account to track budgets, and I’m certainly a proponent of keeping journals and calendars, but we’re coming to live in an age that is frighteningly invasive in its observation.

The Art of Pardoning Turkeys

In 2004, the president’s main turkey was named Biscuits. Its backup—because even turkeys get understudies—was named Gravy. The following year they were named Marshmallow and Yam.

Do You Trust Me?

But if that’s true, how long will it be before we stop riding the train of mere suspicion and arrive in the new, dim empire of total social, political, and spiritual agnosticism?

The Abbreviators 

Hear me, please. I like America. I like English. I like being a millennial. But, really, if I hear the word abreves again in serious conversation…

When Our Dogs Go

It’s a little bit embarrassing the way our dogs affect us. We develop a language with them. We call them the weirdest pet names. We let them get away with things.

Consider the Lilies

You think you are the glory of creation, but you are still within creation. For dust you are and all that. You think, I should see the redwoods soon. I should go to Tuvalu before it’s underwater.

Lessons in Monstrosity

I know it’s illegal, but do I care enough to prevent it when I see it? Does he want us to stop him? Will saying something be more trouble than it’s worth?

The Fault in Our Yarns

For some reason it feels like I’m saying, “My favorite food is chicken nuggets,” or “I really like listening to Hanson while playing laser tag.”

A Night at the Lanes

I found myself standing across the counter from a twenty-something in a red bowling shirt last Saturday night. His name was probably Mike. He just looked like a Mike.

The Simplest Act

And this is a little bit comforting, but mostly annoying. Because what if God doesn’t intend for you to head toward that promotion, wasn’t planning on sticking to your timetables?

Work It, Don’t Twerk It

This month, I celebrated my one-year anniversary of post-education employment. By “celebrated” I mean I told the dentist that I’d been at my job for a year now and then he gave me some free floss.

Sean Connery on writing

“But I have nothing to write about,” you say. I say, “Are you familiar with any people, places or things? If yes, you have something to write about, so close your cakehole and write.”