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Opinions

Creating in Times of Crisis

 Jonan Pilet

Last December, I had the privilege of giving a talk at Houghton University titled Fiddling While Rome Burns: The Significance of Stories in a World on Fire. It was an opportunity to wrestle with a question that plagues many writers, artists, and thinkers: does any of this matter? In the face of global crises, suffering, and uncertainty, why do we create? Why do we tell stories? Now, I have the opportunity to bring these thoughts to a new audience through the Houghton Star, and in doing so, I aim to give some hope to students who are trying to build meaningful lives in a world that often feels like it’s unraveling.

The World is on Fire

The truth is, it’s hard to ignore the weight of the world. Every day, we are bombarded with news of escalating conflicts, economic turmoil, environmental disasters, and political division. AI is advancing at breakneck speed, threatening job security. The coffee is weak. The world feels unstable, chaotic, and at times, downright terrifying.

Meanwhile, life continues. I sit at my desk, trying to write a story—a story that may never be read by anyone but me. My son plays down the hall, unaware of the world’s problems. I am not solving global conflicts. I am not fixing the economy. I am not even making the coffee stronger. I am just writing.

And that, sometimes, feels like a failure.

The Guilt of Creation

I suspect many students here at Houghton feel a similar tension. You are working hard toward a degree, preparing for a future that feels increasingly uncertain. You are investing in education, in creativity, in growth—but for what? What if the world you’re preparing for doesn’t look the way you expected? What if, in the grand scheme of things, your efforts seem small or insignificant?

As a Christian writer, I struggle with another guilt. In the face of eternity, why do I write? Shouldn’t I be doing something more practical, more impactful? Why bother adorning the foyer of eternity when the walls themselves are crumbling?

But then, I think about my wife, who—despite constantly browsing Zillow for better homes—still insists on repainting our guest room. Life doesn’t stop. Creation doesn’t stop. And maybe that, in itself, is a kind of resistance.

Creation as Defiance

C.S. Lewis, in The Weight of Glory, speaks directly to this dilemma. He acknowledges that “plausible reasons have never been lacking for putting off all merely cultural activities until some imminent danger has been averted or some crying injustice put right.” And yet, humanity continues to create. We write stories. We paint. We compose music. Not as distractions, but as declarations.

I have come to believe that telling stories in the midst of crisis is not an act of indifference—it is an act of defiance. It is a way of saying that the world, with all its chaos and destruction, does not win. Stories connect us. They break through the isolation of our own minds and remind us that we are not alone. They show us that others have walked through darkness before us and found their way.

So, to the students of Houghton: I know many of you are carrying the weight of uncertainty. The future can feel overwhelming, and it may seem like the practical response is to put aside your creative passions, your dreams, and your hopes in order to focus on sheer survival. But I urge you—don’t stop creating. Don’t stop investing in the things that bring meaning to life, even if they seem small in the grand scheme of things. Because they aren’t small. They are acts of resistance against despair. ★

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Stories In Focus

Houghton’s Literary Magazine Burns Bright

In an average week students regularly see the campus publications The Houghton Star and The Drawing Board strewn about. To break the monotony about twice a semester a different type of publication hits the stacks, Houghton’s literary magazine, The Lanthorn. With its debut volume hitting campus in May of 1932, The Lanthorn has been an outlet for student writers to showcase creative work outside of the writing classroom. Current Lanthorn editor Ben Murphy, senior, compares the Lanthorn to other non-academic functions around campus; “the student juried art show allows any student to put their work out there [and] Java provides a venue for people to play their own music. We do the same sort of thing, I think.”

academics-headerOften run on a low budget, the Lanthorn publishes a range of creative writing, both poetry and prose, and artwork as well. And while the Lanthorn may have obvious appeal to both English and Writing majors, the Lanthorn accepts and encourages work from all majors, a tradition they’ve strived to maintain.

With that in mind, the Lanthorn has served as a sort of jumping off point for writers to kick-start their careers. Current Academic Dean Linda Mills-Woolsey, vice president for academic affairs, and several of her editorial staff are all prime examples of writers that continue to benefit from their experience and involvement with the Lanthorn. Mills-Woolsey herself has published a range of work, mostly poetry, and a number of her group who first published in the Lanthorn went on to have writing careers.

Writing careers aside, the Lanthorn offers experience for those applying to graduate school and jobs outside of the professional writing sector; 2013 Lanthorn Editor alumna Hannah Hanover, added that “participation and publication in a college’s literary magazine or compilation is highly desirable when applying to graduate school, or even creative positions in the job market.”

While the Lanthorn has the potential to provide valuable professional experience for writers, according to Murphy, it provides an important outlet in offering anonymous publishing, “[it] allows for a safe space for emotions and narratives that may not jive with typical Houghton-friendly issues.” Moreover for students who, like Murphy, “think of words as [their] art,” the Lanthorn plays a major part in “providing a place for wordy-art.”

Like every longstanding publication, the Lanthorn has consistently undergone changes, and this year is no different. This year’s editors worked to “establish a recognizable symbol [marketing brand],” for the Lanthorn according to Murphy, and senior Abby Buckingham handling the design with the help of Caffeinated Creative Studios, in hopes to “better cement the magazine’s presence and identity in students’ minds,” according to Murphy.

Along with this redesign, the Lanthorn has shifted towards encouraging more prose works. “Some years the Lanthorn has been very poetry heavy,” said Murphy, who sees the turn towards prose reflecting his own work as a fiction writer, and added, “I imagine this sort of thing will shift along with whoever is the current editor.” As far as design goes, Hanover mentioned that she and her staff worked to “[bring] back a larger, fuller format for the bi-annual Lanthorn, complete with vibrant color photos and art.” Additionally, a special trend with the Candle has been publishing a “special feature” edition, last year’s featured staff writing and art, and this spring’s featured only flash fiction and haikus.

An enduring Houghton tradition, the next hurdle the Lanthorn faces is the digital age. As the number of college newspapers publishing online continues to rise, the question of the power of print lingers. Murphy weighed the pros and cons, saying, “I think the benefit to print is that we can leave them lying around campus for people to peruse and then leave behind…Also because the edition is selective (we publish probably around 30% of what we receive) I think the quality of work and satisfaction gained from getting in would certainly go out the window,” and on the other hand, “I think there could be something said for a digital version or counterpart of the publication, though it would take a more tech and design savvy editor than myself.”

With the technology debate unsettled, the Lanthorn will no doubt continue its tradition of publishing student work and serving as a true creative outlet for writers campus-wide.