Hello, all. Today I have the pleasure of announcing an addition to the Board of Directors of Evangel Classical School: Mr. Max Kulishov.
Max was added to the board ranks at the September meeting of the Board (an extended offsite retreat) and for many of you, he requires no introduction. I’ll introduce him anyway.
Max is even more impressive than his LinkedIn profile, because no bio (or mugshot) can capture the twinkle in his eye as he’s discussing things that may make you and I pine for cyanide. Max is an accountant, and a principled one. His bookkeeping and accounting work for Efficient Business Machines is only the most recent (albeit long) adventure in a series of pencil-pushing endeavors that help business stay solvent, exercise wise initiative, and manage fiscal risk, all while improving the lives of others.
It is this combination of experience, vision, faithfulness, and commitment that makes us particularly excited to have him helping us out at the Board level.
With the retirement of Jim Martin, Max will hold the office of Treasurer and is already doing some work to help us in our the proactive marketing of the school.
Beyond his credentials however, I am excited to have Max joining the Board for a bunch of personal reasons. He has been dedicated to the mission of Evangel Classical School since before he enrolled his firstborn (Boaz) at the school in the fall of 2017. His four children have all gone to ECS since kindergarten, and his family has been invested deeply in the school and its community that whole time.
Max is going to make us better in ways that many in the school community may never actually notice, but that are important, nevertheless. And Max is fine with that. So when you see him around campus, give him a greeting and a word of thanks, and pray for God to bless his work alongside the rest of the Board.
Here we are at the start of another school year, and every family is in a different place. Some of you may be lamenting the end of summer while still excited for the year ahead. Others may be hoping this was the right decision. Still others are of the seasoned-veteran variety whose only actual concern is whether or not one box of colored pencils will be enough this year.
Of course there are bell schedules, reading books, and a stockpile of bandages to address turf-burn from recess activity. But sometimes lost in the daily chaos is the what precisely we’re up to at Evangel Classical School, and why we’re doing it.
When you applied to ECS, signing off on our mission statement was part of the deal. But it’s possible you haven’t read it since. It’s a lofty one, and it reads like this:
We commend the works of the Lord to another generation, with the tools of classical education, weaponized laughter, and sacrificial labors, so that they will carry and advance Christ-honoring culture.
Ours is a cultural work, and the academic aspect represents the first tool of that work. Those colored pencils are fixtures in the first graders’ desk, but they’re in service of a cultural project. That first grader is becoming a weapon fit to flank his father in the city gates with a tool belt that would make Batman jealous and a smirk that would impress King Lune.
There are a host of other tools that we wield in this work and they help weaponize our laughter, such as a 2nd grader’s burger in the parking lot on the first day of school, or a well-reasoned argument from the mind of a 8th grader, or a combative psalm on the lips of a senior. Handle with care!
Our mission assumes some important lessons from Psalm 127, and it’s always fitting to revisit them.
First, “Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain” (v. 1). If God is not at work in the families of ECS to finish these arrows, we are wasting our time. But He is at work, and we are confident that He’s using a host of tools to fashion the students of ECS into the weapons He wants them to become. In other words, it is because God is at work that we work; it is because we are confident He will bless our labors that we keep going forward in faith.
Second, “Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth” (v. 4). Like me, some of you can only recall the “youth” part; its experience is in the past. I’m more concerned presently with the arrows in our classrooms. These cute little kids, the lovely ladies, and the strapping young men wearing the Raggant uniform are arrows in various developmental stages, and it takes eyes of faith to see it. Arrows go through a host of phases and steps in their development, but the end product is both beautiful and dangerous.
So we’re about the work of enculturation, arrow making, worship, and math fact mastery. We’re about the work of debate, submission, obedience, and battle…and constant fellowship maintenance. As you talk about your child’s day around the dinner table tonight, and stuff her backpack tomorrow morning before sending her off, may God give you the eyes to see what’s actually happening.
This is a standard student silly question. To ask it is to raise a different question: are you working to learn the most you can or are you learning to work the least you can?
Here we are on the first day of school. This is a place of learning. But it is easy to deceive ourselves into thinking that we have learned enough rather than that we are just getting started.
A good teacher knows what to expect of his students when they enter his class. He has a vision for what his students should know at the end of the year. He follows a scope and sequence. He uses books and discussions and resources to go step-by-step. His daily lesson plans add up and work to get his students to the next starting point.
Do you not think that the Lord is the great lesson planner? Do you not think that the Lord has particular tests for you to take? He does. (See Philippians 1:6)
One lesson the Lord repeats is that there are almost always higher levels to get to. When you love something, your love will be tested. When you learn to crawl, next up is walking. When you learn to walk, next up is not walking into the corner of the table. When you reliably can walk around furniture, and can hold your own against big dogs jumping into you, then we’ll see if you can do all that and chew gum at the same time.
I’ve been looking for a good name for this phenomenon. One name for it could be the category of a false summit. You’re climbing a hill, you can see the top, you do the work to get there, and once there you see that there is another hill, but it wasn’t visible before. You made real progress, but you’re not done.
Karate (or jujitsu or taekwondo) is a better illustration. Depending on the local teacher, it’s common to identify 8 colors of belts: White → Yellow → Orange → Green → Blue → Purple → Brown → Black. Kyu (or student) ranks get a beginner to “senior brown,” and then Dan (or master) ranks (black belt and above) go from 1st degree to 10th. So 1st degree black belt is an end in one way, and just the start of advanced study in another.
There are things to “master” at each level, but mastery leads to more. The fact of increasing difficulty doesn’t mean you’ve not progressed, it’s part of the process. Another lesson and test is a result of passing a test. Seeing another move, or combo, is not a failure, it is progression.
There are a few parts of our Christ-honoring culture that we identify at ECS, that we have been practicing, and that are being tested to get to black belt and beyond. We call it our enculturation trifecta.
Masculine nerve. This isn’t making everyone into a dude, but it is a kind of backbone that belongs with image-bearers who know what they’re made for. We’re made to glorify God and enjoy Him forever less like kittens just out of the bath and more like lions.
The Kindergartener sounds off at full volume though he might get the phonogram wrong. He tells the teacher he broke a thing before anyone has asked who broke it. This is good and proper white belt work.
The 6th grader sings with guts even when others act like it isn’t cool. She doesn’t laugh at a joke that’s critical of a classmate. This is green/blue belt level, when a lot of people give up.
The senior picks a thesis that’s pokey, not one that’s easy. He asks the girl to dance. First degree black belt is close.
Of course we will be tempted to flop. That’s the time not to.
Tactical laughter. This is knowing when to laugh, and that’s more than knowing not to laugh at a funeral. This is choosing to laugh when all signs point to freaking out.
The grammar-stage student biffs hard on the blacktop at recess, has blood to prove it, and turns on his laughing tears not his sobbing tears; white belt.
The logic-stage student bombs the Logic quiz, but laughs at his fallacies while working to get his Ps & Qs in order; green/blue belt.
The rhetoric student reads the most pages and plans the big events and sings and sweats running the Liden Mile; black belt.
Our school motto is risus est bellum: laughter is war.
Radical company. We are in this together. Raggants don’t go behind another raggant’s back; raggants got each other’s back. We don’t sow discord. We don’t badmouth. We don’t spread rumors. We love getting along, we love working in the same field, we love making our school a destination.
Kindergartners say, “I was wrong, please forgive me. Want to play?”
The 6th grader doesn’t take her complaints about a classmate home over the weekend to dump her fussiness on her family, but talks to her friend when it’s hard and doesn’t cut her off.
The almost-graduate knows the names of the grammar kids. He humbly asks the 6th grader for forgiveness for being annoyed with him. She makes being a senior, and the whole senior class, look good.
The white belt performs the move, the black belt performs the same move smoothly.
Make no mistake, your nerve is going to be tested more than it was before. When it comes to laughing, you’ll be sure that you’ve hit a situation where you can’t. For the sake of fellowship, did it really mean you were going to have to forgive that person? You’ve got to be patient, like, not just immediately?
The Bible says that we will be tested. God’s Word actually says that God will give us many tests, a variety of tests. It also says we are supposed to be excited about test day. We’re exhorted to “count it all joy” when we face various trials (James 1:2) because the tests are actually working on us.
One of the objectives in James 1:4 is that we be complete, and it means something like: ready for any situation or equipped to meet the expectations. This progress happens on a grade-by-grade level but it is also part of our school’s responsibility. Overall we are trying to give you what you need to carry and advance Christ-honoring culture.
I referenced The Horse and His Boy on the first day last year, but fits today’s call as well. Shasta barely makes it to the old man’s house when the old man sends Shasta immediately out on a more urgent task. The narrator says,
“He had not yet learned that if you do one good deed your reward usually is to be set to do another and harder and better one.”
Will all this be on the test? Yes, all of the above. God is calling all of us to go further up and further in. He is teaching us and testing us so that we will be perfect and complete, lacking nothing. Is it your time to watch a good example? Your time to learn by trying and failing and trying again? Your turn to pick someone else up off the mat?
You don’t sign up for karate because you just want to wear the belt. You want to kick butt. Good, it’s time to robe up and become black belt raggants.
There’s always a reason to be glad for whichever season you’re in, as each season has unique features and opportunities. One thing I particularly enjoy about summertime is listening to books while working around my property, and in the last couple of weeks I’ve re-listened to a handful of gems that I recommend heartily.
As we routinely observe at school, good books affirm principles found in Scripture. We should not be surprised when they resonate with us, even if the author is not a Christian.
A secular leadership guru can tell you that leaders who take responsibility gain influence, but he probably doesn’t understand the Deep Magic that makes it so. Of course we know that the gospel teaches that death brings life, and people on the receiving end of loving sacrifice (like your children!) thrive at the expense of others (like you!), and the cycle is actually glorious. And still it takes faith to walk it out.
I’m fond of saying that it takes faith to believe what you know. You may know that God is calling you to sacrifice for others even when they are ungrateful. You may also know that this is a formula for their flourishing even if it is costly to you. You may also know that such costly labors are the sorts of things that God loves to bless. You may know all this, but do you actually believe it? Are you walking it out? Does your life feature this sort of sacrifice?
It’s true that our motto is a relentless reminder, but it’s just as true that we put “evangel” in our name for a reason.
Death brings life. Believe it.
There’s no better time to get this belief right down to the marrow of our bones than the start of the school year, because it’s about to get gloriously real. Are you ready?
The following is a story Mr. Higgins wrote and read for the year-end assembly last week.
Note: We’ve had the Mettle Shop meeting for our young men, and the theme for the upcoming TEC youth retreat this summer is “Forged.” So to complement those, and to try to put into story form the point from the first assembly of the year on doing hard things and being more than feather-lifters, here goes.
It was early one June morning as seven potential apprentices stood in the sun waiting for the blacksmith to come outside.
The master blacksmith’s name was Tubal. He was an old man with tanned skin, a bushy beard, and arms that bulged with little mountains of muscles. Men said his family had been at the anvil since the beginning, and he had forgotten more about steel than most men ever learn. When he came out this particular morning he seemed more focused than normal, and maybe a bit more grumpy.
In front of him were seven bars of raw iron. All of them were thick and ugly as if they’d been left outside in tall grass for months. They looked like things you’d step over not pick up on purpose. Tubal gave one to each boy and said the same sentence seven times: “By the first frost, bring me a blade you would stake your life on. For winter is real, and so are the wolves.” Then he turned around and began his own chores.
The boys groaned. They had seen enough of Tubal’s work to know that this was not an easy assignment. It meant feeding a fire until your face baked. It meant hammering the same stupid bar a thousand times. To make a blade from raw iron in particular requires heating and beating and folding, again and again for weeks, then grinding and sharpening before it could be counted on to keep its purpose.
But it was summer. There was a lake only a quarter mile away. And the lake didn’t require a single swing of a hammer.
While they were talking about their options, a traveling salesman rode into the yard, his cart rattling behind him. On the side of the cart hung a sign that read: CINCH BLADES – ALL THE SHARP, NONE OF THE SWEAT.
The peddler hopped off his horse and said, “Young men, my name is Mr. Cinch. I see a look on your faces that I can fix. I happened to overhear the old man talking to you. Why ruin your whole summer for one little sword? I have the materials and mold to pour you a better looking blade and be done in 10 minutes. No hot afternoons required. Just look at this.” He held up his display sword, and the sun’s reflection seemed to gleam straight into their eyes.
Six of the seven made what seemed to be the obvious choice. “The water’s calling my name,” said Jake. “Yeah, us too,” said a couple others. They bought poured blades, each made in about ten minutes as the salesman had said. By lunchtime they were down at the lake with their swords leaning against a nearby tree. Their iron bars were back in a pile behind Tubal’s shed.
Only one boy had hesitated. He turned the ugly bar around in his hands a couple times, then decided not to buy. His name was Cole.
Cole wasn’t the strongest or the smartest of the bunch, but he kept thinking about Tubal’s words, “a blade you would stake your life on.” He had a hard time believing that you could buy a blade like that for cheap. So the next morning while the other boys slept in before spending another day at the lake, Cole knocked on the blacksmith’s door and asked the master to teach him.
Tubal agreed. He showed Cole how to pile the coals and read the color of the fire. He showed him how to hold the tongs in one hand, how to hit the right way with the hammer with the other hand. There was only one thing that Tubal would not do. He would not swing the hammer for his student.
“I can show you how,” Tubal said, “but I cannot give you the arm. That strength only comes one way, and slowly.”
In the early summer the work was as miserable as Cole had imagined. Sparks singed his arms. The hammer seemed to gain weight as the days went by. His hits were often off target, only good for producing blisters. He pounded for hours. He sweat and sweat. The blade mostly just looked the same, and he wondered if he should quit. One day Mr. Cinch rode through town again, saw Cole’s face over the fire, and said, “There’s still time to save a lot of summer, son.”
Tubal stepped between them. “It is supposed to take time,” said the blacksmith. “A good blade is not poured, it is forged. There are stages, they can’t be skipped or rushed any more than you can rush a tree into fruit. Strike while the iron is hot, and when it gets cold, heat it up and strike it again.”
Cole kept after it, week by week. He learned. He heated, he hammered, he heated again, and hammered again. Each time he folded the blade he could remove a little more dirt and dross. The blade was taking shape. Another thing also happened. Cole’s blisters became calluses and his skinny arm took on strength. The work was working on the metal and the smith. Iron sharpened iron.
The other boys at the lake played and joked. Jake made sure to laugh at the soot on Cole’s face. Cole kept thinking, “Strike while the iron is hot.”
A few months later the leaves turned color and the mornings turned cold. Frost regularly covered the field. And one day three wolves came out from the woods, hungry.
The boys ran and got their swords. The first wolf leapt. Steel met fang, and the poured blade snapped in two. Then Jake swung; his sword shattered against the second wolf’s shoulder. Two of the boys started to scream, and run. Cole stepped forward in front of Jake, his hammer-marked sword in his now strong arm. The wolf lunged. Cole was staking his life on his summer. He said to himself, “Strike while the iron is hot.” His blade hit, and held.
Tubal watched the whole thing from his doorway. When the last wolf lay still, the old blacksmith walked toward Cole and gave the smallest nod. “Now,” he said, taking the blade from Cole’s hand, “we sharpen it.” The very next morning, while Mr. Cinch was miles away, six unformed bars were gone from behind the shed, and Tubal was showing six eager boys how to work the fire.
You are not blacksmiths, and you won’t meet wolves in the parking lot. But winter and wolves are real, though yours won’t have fur. Remember, raggants aren’t feather-lifters. The fire is not your enemy, and the hammer is not a punishment. You are being forged. Bring back a blade.
Many of you will be aware that this year ECS added Track and Field to its spring sports offerings. Technically we only offered Track, because we don’t have the equipment, space, or know-how to offer any Field events just yet, so we stuck to running.
We were fortunate enough last weekend to send five athletes (four distance runners and one sprinter) to the state track meet in Yakima. It was a great weekend in just about every way, but my aim for the moment is to make a few quick observations from the weekend as one who was witness to the Raggants’ representation among some 125 other schools from the state of Washington. Now, my focus was on our school, not other schools. I have no interest in disparaging any other school, though I am interested in our presence in the state, and there were folks there from all over the place who heard about us for the first time last weekend.
My first observation is this: We are not athletically exceptional. Our boys finished in 10th place of 35 schools, and our girls finished 15th out of 41 schools. Many other schools – even some sister classical and Christian schools – were better represented, and good for them! We did fine, and especially for a first-year program. We even brought home a championship in one event, but athletic prowess was not our defining feature.
My second observation is this: We travel well! We had about a dozen people make the trip over to watch our runners who were not related to any of the runners, and we had another twenty supporters who were related to the runners. The results is that there was a loud orange party in the upper right corner of the grandstands. When a Raggant was announced at the starting blocks or on the podium, our pocket of fun erupted.
My last observation is related to the one just before it, namely this: We bring the party. We found the cheapest motel in Yakima and turned it into a resort. The pool was closed for maintenance, but our intrepid Raggants had a good time anyway! There was a gravel lot across the parking lot…and we had a frisbee, five abandoned rubber tires, a wiffle-ball and bat, an ice chest, a Blackstone grill, and a lot of food.
Seventeenth-century Anglican theologian Jeremy Taylor quipped that “God threatens terrible things, if we will not be happy.” The obvious implication is that God wants us to be happy, and to delight in Him by receiving well the good gifts He gives. This is impossible for those who refuse to give Him thanks.
Conversely, a grateful and joyful life is compelling. We have a fun duty to have a great time when we are among unbelievers. King David penned it well: “You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows” (Psalm 23:5). God provides what we actually need all the time, everywhere. I’m not categorizing our athletic opponents as enemies, but the majority are secularists, and we want to make them jealous for the blessings that we have in Christ.
I’ll say it again: Like the Apostle Paul, we are trying to make others jealous, and this is faithful obedience (see Romans 11:11-14). We want them to have what we have because God is good and gracious and it can be theirs in Christ. We did not earn our blessings, they are gifts from God. What I saw this weekend was an on-the-ground demonstration of this sort of faithfulness, and I was encouraged. It was inviting…and it was supposed to be! We offered barbecued chicken to more than one passerby, and left the grandstands cleaner than we found them.
As it turns out, an athletic program affords all sorts of opportunities to engage with the world and showcase the joy of Christ. From enthusiastic volleyball crowds to soccer supporters that hang around long after the game is over to track observers who share cookies with fans from other schools, we get opportunity to apply our feasting mindset. And it also turns out that a trip to State presents these opportunities in spades.
The sports seasons are over for now, but we’ll do it again in the fall with volleyball, soccer, and cross country. Don your outrageous orange T-shirt and come see what I mean, and maybe you’ll get an opportunity to boast in Christ before secularists while cheering on our teams.
The following are the notes from Mr. Higgins’ charge at the 2026 ECS Graduation.
Good evening to our candidates for graduation, to their parents and families, to the Headmaster and school board and faculty, and welcome guests. To those of you on stage, you have made it to the end of your time at ECS, and ECS has made it to our tenth graduation ceremony.
My charge tonight can be summarized in two words. They are only slightly more difficult to remember than Bob Newhart’s counsel to “Stop it!” As you commence into life after high school, for the glory of God, I charge you to do everything with yielded hustle.
There’s a lot of talk in certain circles these days about high agency. I read an article just a little over a year ago titled, “High Agency in 30 Minutes.” It continues to edify me, it has added some critical lines of code in my mental operating system. I’ve shared the link with I don’t know how many people.
The article opens with the hypothetical: if you woke up in a 3rd world jail cell, who would you call? Most likely the person you’re thinking of has high agency. You probably don’t know someone with expertise or experience in this scenario; I searched for a top ten list of tips but there isn’t one. You might know a person who has a habit of figuring out what he doesn’t know, who is known for not quitting just because he came to a closed door, and who has the reputation of not giving up until he reaches the goal. He will get you out.
This isn’t about being an extrovert, or having the mind of an entrepreneur. It’s a person who is more cause than effect. They care enough to get off the couch. They have a kind of conviction, and confidence, to get curious, and continue working until the job is complete.
There are three traits that belong with high agency people.
They have clear thinking. They know what they want. Clarity doesn’t require having all the info, but it does require a match of love to the truth you do have.
They are disagreeable, not in the sense that they can’t be pleased, but that they won’t be conformed to the world of pessimists. When everyone else says that they can’t, they don’t lose heart.
They have a bias to action. They take steps, no matter how small, with spoude/zeal.
For this kind of person, “if your problem doesn’t defy the law of physics, it’s not an unsolvable problem.”
This does not mean you need a lot of money, or that you have to invent a new product or start a business. It has nothing to do with being loud. And at any given snapshot it may look unsuccessful as you figure out the 1000 ways not to make a lightbulb. But you aren’t waiting for AI to tell you what to want, or expecting someone else to come along and fix all your problems.
High agency is a great category. You have been educated and equipped. Who better than you would know the kind of problems the world needs solved? Your imaginations have been tested and trained and expanded. You’ve exercised your mind, you’ve sacrificed your default preference for comfort in order to complete assignments, and you’ve tasted the confidence that comes from doing hard things.
As much as high agency does good work, yielded hustle goes higher. Yielded hustle is high agency par excellence. This is your charge.
YIELDED
This is a one word summary of your Christian confession that Jesus is Lord. It captures coram Deo, that all of life is lived before the face of God. It belongs with Deo volente, if the Lord wills, we will do this or that. It aligns every morning, each of your projects and tasks, all your time and habits, in the fear of the Lord. We might coin it, deditus impetus (devoted energy).
This is good because the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom (Proverbs 9:10). Yielding your will to the Lord’s will is wise. You could have all the high agency in the world in your little toe, but be running down the wrong road. “In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths” (Proverbs 3:6).
Such a yielded life includes high agency humility. God declares that He resists the proud but exalts the humble. The problem for the tower builders in Babel wasn’t a lack of bias to action, it was a lack of submission to God. They wanted to make a name for themselves, and the Lord let them have it, just not how they meant it.
Such a yielded life also means it’s possible to be pleasing the Lord in every moment. You can enjoy the process, not just be always waiting for joy until the risks are gone.
HUSTLE
I don’t mean a side hustle, trying to make a little extra money from a hobby, though that’s fine. I don’t mean tricking others into thinking that you’re incompetent before running the table. I mean, in the words of one of our modern day warrior-poets: Get after it.
Wisdom does not end, “In all your ways acknowledge Him and then feel free to sit around until lightning strikes.” Let the Lord steer you as you are in motion. God gives growth, and like a farmer, you have to be sowing, watering, weeding, not being a sluggard all summer expecting a big harvest.
Hustle. Have a bias to action. Most of the time in life you don’t need permission, or even encouragement, just a tendency to try. When you hit a problem—and you will, that doesn’t mean you’re finished, it’s feedback to try another angle. What else do you think risus est bellum is good for?
We are Christians. We know as those who believe in the sovereignty of God that at best we are just secondary causes. Good! And so try to be the most hustling secondary cause you can.
Pure high agency makes a man think he is a primary cause, he’s self-empowered. Yielded hustle connects to the Primary Cause, to God’s sovereign power and purposes and promises. Self-will is bad, laziness is bad. In fact, laziness is self-willed. Not hustling is not yielded. And if you are properly yielded, God will always be spreading grace through your clay pot.
I’ve read that “You can measure the impact of a person’s life by the size of the problem he or she solves.” You have the education, do you have the courage? We live in a world full of live problems, endless problems, seemingly impossible problems, unfavorable conditions. You must do more than comment on or complain about how dumb everything is, and actually “commit your work to the LORD” so that “your plans will be established” (Proverbs 16:3).
This is not just do more. It’s absolutely not working your way into salvation. But you are to work out your salvation in fear and trembling (Philippians 2:12). This is yielded hustle.
Many of you have traveled to the UK and to the East Coast. You’ve not just read in two-dimensions, you’ve seen and tasted the fruit that have come from generations who sacrificed to carry and advance Christ-honoring culture. The baton is yours. Run with it into the art you make, the music you play, the law you study, the medicine you practice, the homes and families the Lord blesses you with.
To the ECS class of 2026, trust in the LORD with all your heart, and be the kind of persons that a friend stuck in a 3rd world cell would call.
Don’t look now, but we’re only a few weeks from our annual Fundraising Feast! (It’s on the calendar for Friday, May 15, 5:30pm.)
That’s a good thing, of course, but it is but one of many events that are featured near the end of the school year. It has been a good one, and preparations for the fall are well underway.
I suppose some may roll their eyes when I say that the Feast is one of my favorite nights of the year, but it’s completely true…and it has nothing to do with money. It has everything to do with the human blessings that God brings to the school.
The Fundraising Feast is a feast, to be sure. On that night we receive with intentionality and pause to give God thanks for His favor toward Evangel Classical School. It’s important not only to be thankful but also to show it.
Still, the fundraising element is really important. The Fundraising Feast helps us to cover the gap between tuition dollars and the cost of operating a school, including helping the teachers to feed their families.
I realize this may seem short-sighted. After all, isn’t all this talk about finishing the year strongly and about the budget for the coming year awfully here-and-now? Why are we not talking more about where we’d like to be ten years down the road? Those are great questions! And for some of that, I hope you’ll come hear what we have to share.
This year’s Feast will be at the Mule Palace in Arlington (19920 43rd Ave NE, Arlington, WA 98223). It’s a change of venue, but just as fun as others that we’ve enjoyed over the years. Many of us have been there before, and it’s a real party, even if you’re not a mule.
This year, we will only be featuring the high school students in the program. The dinner will still be free, but it will remain a dinner for adults, and we will not be able to provide childcare. Again, this is a change from previous years, and it means we will not be inviting students from grades K-8 to the Feast.
Additionally, we will also be populating the tables differently. We are asking for volunteer table hosts to fill a table of ten. If this sounds fun, to you, great! Please be praying for the evening and start extending those invitations! We encourage you to look beyond our immediate school community as you do so. And by all means, invite your pastors, as it’s our desire for all of our area pastors to be aware of the work we are doing at ECS.
Those wishing to host a table are encouraged to contact Aisha Bone. If you do not wish to host a table, but still want to come, please do! Simply register here or contact Aisha Bone directly: abone@evangelcs.org or 360-502-6950 (call or text).
Happy spring, and I hope to see you at the Feast, Friday, May 15, 5:30pm.
