Vista, Issue 4, Fall 2018

FALL 2018

VISTA MAGAZINE

ISSUE IV

Congregation in the Secular Sphere

First Generation Student Stories

The Intersection of Ministry & Theology

The religious experience of congregation is not just limited to chapel. Emmanuel explores the parallels between concertgoing and worship.

First generation college students share their stories, fears, and joys about being the first family member to step foot on campus as a university student.

Sometimes mentoring youth means expressing the uncertainties, but finding certainty in God’s love.

MEET THE

VISTA TEAM EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

••••••••••••••••••••

Stephen Nielsen

SENIOR EDITOR • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • Jacob Whitfield DIGITAL CONTENT DIRECTOR • • • • Ethan Oliver DESIGNER • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • Caroline Patterson ARTS & CULTURE EDITOR • • • • • • • • • • Cole Altmayer RELIGION & FAITH EDITOR • • • • • • • Ariana Diaz COPY EDITOR

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Kaylyn Sweitzer

WEB CONTENT STRATEGIST • • • • • • • Kajsa Johnsrud THIS ISSUE’S CONTRIBUTORS:

Nyssa Krull

Kayla Feil

Amanda Huck

Jacob Bretz

Emmanuel Carrillo

Hannah Geil

Hmangaih Lal

Haley Hack

Virginia Smith

Andrea Ascencio

Rakiiba Vaalele

Irma Bahena

Rebekah Law

Thais Martinez

LETTER

FROM THE EDITOR Dear Reader, Thanks for picking up a copy! This is our largest, most involved issue yet. Between these covers, we explore the massive leap first generation college students make. Also, we experience what it is like to travel half-way around the world, sixty-five hundred miles from Samoa to Chicago with nothing except two suitcases.

One of my favorite pieces in this magazine is Knitting a Life by a refugee who knit sweaters to supplement her family’s income in Delhi. We also have returning students sharing more poems and life anecdotes. Our popular ship logs make a comeback as well.

Many of our Commentary pieces are centered around beginnings. North Park students recently made a Women in STEM club, to hold conversations around topics of intersectionality.

Multiple first generation college students share their experiences coming to college for the first time and everything they feared and love.

Whether you are reading this between classes, on your CTA commute home, or on your couch with a hot cup of coffee or tea, I hope you see the amazing stories North Parkers hold. Remember that you can always find more articles written by North Park students online on our website. I am excited that Vista gets to share these stories now and many more in the future.

Happy reading, Stephen Nielsen Editor-in-Chief

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CONTENTS

CONTENTS

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FALL 2018 ISSUE

SUNBURNT PAPAYA

WHY GOD GAVE ME BROWN EYES

SHIP LOGS

8

14

15, 19

6 WOMEN IN STEM

12 KNITTING A LIFE

Student Nyssa Krull saw a need for a place to hold conversations around intersectionality and a way to bring underrepresented voices to the forefront.

When her family didn’t have enough money to pay for the necessities, Hmangaih Lal turned to knitting.

9 A DEFENSE OF THE LIBERAL ARTS The Liberal Arts must be defended in an increasingly career skills-focused education.

THE INTERSECTION OF MINISTRY & THEOLOGY

CALVINIST THEORY 13 AND A CAPITALIST ECONOMY The capitalist economic system is deeply entrenched in western culture, primarily because of its connection with reformed theology.

SHIP LOGS

CONGREGATION IN THE SECULAR SPHERE 4

10

20

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ARTS & CULTURE

FRAIL BOOK

FOREST VENTURES

DEATHRATTLE

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25

30

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COVER STORY DESCENDANT OF VOYAGERS

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Polynesian student and SGA President Rakiiba Vaalele has achieved so much since leaving her family four years ago.

THE PHENOMENOLOGY OF ART 18 An artist explains how communication through art is very personal, and how she does it.

FIRST GENERATION STUDENT STORIES 27 FAMILY IS NUMBER ONE Even though she’s in college, Andrea doesn’t let it affect her familial relationships.

28 IRMA BAHENA Choosing North Park became the best decision for Irma, a first generation college student.

29 FOLLOWING MY DREAM Read about Thias Martinez’s journey to finding North Park.

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COMMENTARY

WOMEN IN

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STEM

by Nyssa Krull

I’ve stared at a blank Word Document for the better part of today. What do I write? How do I put every reason we started this club into 400-1500 words? Then it began. I start typing: “Being a mother….”

No, I can’t go down that route. The topic of me being a mother always leads to people questioning if my kids were planned, who’s taking care of them, and whether I can really balance work and life.

Ok, then let’s start with that one experience I had in high school where I was told, “Just stick to art. Math is beyond you.”

Why even share that -- people won’t believe me.

“Women in STEM demand respect, equity, and….”

Delete. This comes off as too aggressive. My tone can’t be too strong…

“As you can see in Figure A, statistics show that women hold only 24% of STEM jobs....”

Too cold and unapproachable.

“Sorry…”

“Sorry for saying sorry…”

Left: Sam Camilleri, Vice President.

Right: Nyssa Krull, President

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If the above reads as disjointed, trust me, it was 10 times worse in my head. In attempting to write this, I’ve stumbled into several common pitfalls women experience daily. Double standards, social expectations, and doubt have been engrained into women, impacting even simple tasks like writing an article.

This is why we need a Women in STEM club at North Park.

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We need a support system that encourages growth and development. We need to recognize that there is no single definition of what it means to be a woman and foster conversations that center around intersectionality.

Underrepresented voices need to be brought to the forefront.

Issues of sexual harassment and assault in the workplace need to be addressed. We need to provide paths in STEM fields for more girls and young women, so that our society as a whole can benefit. We need acknowledgment that these issues exist.

The good news? We can do this. North Park students and faculty provide the support, force, and environment necessary to start working through these issues. The idea of starting a community-building network for women in STEM came from Dr. Rholl last semester. I’ve joked that I was a little annoyed that I didn’t think of starting this club first, but in all seriousness, his consciousness and support has impacted us beyond words.

The encouragement didn’t stop there. Dr. Choi enthusiastically took on the role of our advisor and has provided vital mentorship and inspiration for those of us lucky enough to work with her.

Countless professors welcomed us into their classrooms to speak about our goals for this organization and over one-hundred students stood with us by signing an interested students list, showing that North Park welcomes our voices. And finally, we have the intelligent, talented, and hard-working women that took officer roles and helped build this club from the ground up: Sam Camilleri, Darby Agovino, Leslee Palafox, and Rachel Weaver. Their passion and commitment have been exemplary.

So, we’ve covered why we started this club and how it came to fruition. But what’s next? Instead of answering, I’m going to pose that question to you. Where do we go from here? Regardless of your gender, sexual orientation, political views, or position at North Park, you have a role in this club; your views matter. There’s work to be done.

COMMENTARY

“

You need to be really smart to do that.

I don’t know if that’s the best thing for you to do.

Don’t you worry, that by being a physics major, you’ll scare all the boys away?

You’ll never get into grad school if you waste your time playing sports.

There’s no way you would have time to commit to it all.

You won’t get far in life with a biology major.

You’re too pretty for science.

We’re all going to prove them wrong.

”

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ARTS & CULTURE

VISTA MAGAZINE

Sun Burnt Papaya

by Amanda Huck On my first bite of sugar cane I swallowed a basket Sweet and stabby You laughed because I was so inept Americans don’t know how to eat.

The sky dripped with pineapple voices And tasted like rose kayenn Mango music and cracked coke bottle beats I woke up early just to talk to the mosquitos.

And when the roofs grew upside down cactuses They held out their hands with syrupy beads Salty trinkets splayed across the ground We bartered and said it was the thing to do.

Hibiscus thoughts sing sour melodies through the palms Psalms crazed, craved, carved into Closed fists, sickly swift Bowing to malarial cries Learning the intersections of mourning and joy.

It’s been six years of a prickly skyline Crumbled around the glass box left unshattered Coconut oceans drown you as You reach forward with crippled fingers Towards spindly moths frantic in your ghost light.

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VISTA MAGAZINE

COMMENTARY

A Defense of the Liberal Arts

by Jacob Whitfield

Why are you attending college? The answer to that question seems obvious: to get a job. In order to make good the investment of time and money in higher education, students strive to make themselves the most marketable for the workforce . Internships and career training are becoming the norm for Universities and Colleges, and study in the classical Liberal Arts as devalued.

Despite the new nature of Colleges and Universities, students continue to graduate and find themselves dissatisfied with where their education has left them. This dissatisfaction is twofold. The first is that the student was taught that they would be able to get a job in the field they studied. This is true from some majors, such as education, nursing, and accounting. However, there are not large job markets for musicians, creative writers, and sociologists.

Secondly, as a result of the former, the Liberal Arts student feels as though their education was a waste of time and money.

What was the point of studying philosophy for four years if you are entering a job that has nothing to do with what you studied, because that was the best one that was available?

Higher education is now a reflection of our consumerist culture.

Is there a point in doing something if it doesn’t directly benefit our bank accounts? The path taken must be the one most profitable. There is no question that there are majors that reward students with higher salaries than others, but there is beauty in the art of learning for the art of learning is exploration.

This exploration is not always economically profitable, but it is always fulfilling to the human spirit and a vital aspect of the human experience. In a culture that increasingly determines value based on productivity and money, the Liberal Arts stand against these ideas and serve as the bulwark of individual flourishment.

I am a Politics and Government and History double major. I am not studying political science because I that is the pathway for me to make the most money, nor am I studying political science so that I can be a politician. I am studying political science because I want to better understand how humans interact with each other. I want to be able to see the world through the lens of a political scientist.

The same is true for history. The lost art of the Liberal Arts is the development of persons and their minds. As Liberal Arts colleges strive to become more like vocational training, they are losing the very essence of human nature. The value of vocational training and labor-based work should not be overlooked; however, the most overlooked training is the training of the mind in classical education. We need construction workers and engineers and cooks and accountants.

The training for this work is not any less valuable than the Liberal Arts. But we also need artists and political scientists and historians and writers and philosophers. The need for these people is not limited to those respective fields, but every field. These subjects aren’t a career training but the work of the human spirit. Humans are creators. We create roads, and products, and businesses. We also create music, and stories, and ideas. Our capitalistic culture has placed a greater value on the former, but our human nature of belonging, creativity, and community long for the latter.

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ARTS & CULTURE

VISTA MAGAZINE

FALL 2018 ISSUE

Congregation in the Secular Sphere

by Emmanuel Carrillo What is there to say about our modern places of congregation?

Though the term “congregation” brings to mind religious connotations, we must acknowledge that increasing numbers of Americans are seeking secular events as their primary source of communal interaction. Where we once worshiped the creator of humans, we now worship the creations of humans, by which I mean that society seeks secular communal experiences with the same fervor as it once sought divine religious experiences. This is by no means a negative phenomenon. However, it is one that should be more closely examined

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I want to focus specifically on the role of the secular concert as a space for modern worship. Let’s first examine the congregation, or in this case the crowd. A concert crowd is essentially a gathering of people crammed into a small space who are linked by some facet of identity tied to the music being played.

Yes, identity. Think about it. You don’t go to a concert for a band you don’t know. What you do is you pay fifty-five dollars six weeks in advance to go see an artist who impacted you at some crucial stage in your personal development -- probably your

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angsty teen years. Of course, they’re playing some venue that is two trains, a bus, and a fifteen-minute walk away, but you make the trek gleefully. After all, you anticipate a shared emotional experience, a triumphant moment of reaching the secular mountaintop communally.

ARTS & CULTURE

But you don’t actually go to a concert for the music.

You already know the songs and have heard them mixed to perfection dozens of times from the comfort of your bedroom.

You go to a concert to catch a glimpse of the artist you’ve mythologized in your head, to be one among the community of their other disciples. You go because by the time the last note has died out and the crowd’s cheers have become a soft ringing memory in your ears, you are left with a deep pervading sense of unity.

And like the many becoming one in the Body of Christ, a beautifully bizarre metamorphosis occurs at concerts, one which anyone who has stood toward the front of a show knows.

The individuals slowly begin to change, twisting and inter connecting, eventually becoming one unified organism, one continuous mass in a perpetual state of motion writhing to the electronically amplified sounds of a group of strangers.

Except they’re not strangers, not in the digital age. We know

This poses a question for the religious among us. How do we have a spirit of worship towards God while partaking in secular praise? Can worship only really be aimed toward one person or thing at a time? If I’m screaming my heart out for

the people on stage. We follow them on Twitter and Instagram and watch all their late-night interviews on YouTube. They are our teachers, and we are their students. They share their secular dogma, instructing us, their followers, to spread the good news.

Chance, am I praising a false idol, or am I praising the beauty of God’s creation through the creativity of music? I frankly don’t have an answer, but I believe it is important for the Church to ask questions like this in order to really challenge people to live out Christ’s calling in the modern world. So if you ever happen to skip church to thrash around with a bunch of punk rockers (guilty), please know that you have had a legitimate spiritual experience. But take time after the adrenaline of the night wears off to think critically about why.

But, what is this gospel? You see, it can not be encapsulated in a phrase or written as some sort of theorem. This gospel is merely a musical hypothesis tested again and again, night after night, in city after city.

“ Where we once worshiped the creator of humans, we now worship the creations of humans...

”

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COMMENTARY

VISTA MAGAZINE

FALL 2018 ISSUE

Knitting A Life

by Hmangaih Lal

Knitting is not the common hobby someone would typically note as the catalyst for changing their life, but it changed mine. I was a refugee in Delhi, too young to work in the factory, but not too young to knit. At 11 years of age, I was taught to knit by my neighbor, which marked the beginning of my journey. And much like knitting, each moment in my life has been stitched together with purpose and thought; each moment standing alone, but when reflected upon, there is something beautiful at the end.

My family could not make enough money while we were in Delhi, waiting patiently for the U.S. embassy to call us, which is why my mom had to work long hours in a factory, but the money she made was never enough. We struggled to consistently have food on the table, and the electricity and gas would often be shut off. I knew I had to help my family earn a little extra money to improve our living situation, so I turned my new-found talent into a fiscal opportunity by selling the sweaters I knit. The money I received from the sweaters was used to pay for things my family needed. In that moment of life, knitting became a lifesaver. However, I still had another dream, my dream of going to school and learning English, but school was not attainable at the moment because we could not afford it.

So, I knit every single day from morning until night, often finishing at 1:00 am. The items I knitted were sweaters and scarves, which I would sell for a small profit. I was able to use the money I made from the sweaters to purchase enough necessities to get by day-today. The income I earned made both my mom and my sister feel more comfortable, but I was not content. I still had a new dream.

“

I knit my sweaters with love for others, and they help me knit my life together with their love.

” My dream was to be able to speak English, but I also dreamt that someday I would have the opportunity to go to the United States and be able to sit with American students in the same class. It took years of many interviews and paperwork in order to come to the United States. Since English is my second language, I have to put in more effort in school, but no matter how hard it gets, I’ve never given up accomplishing my dream. And now I have my sights set on a new dream. You see, that’s the best thing about knitting, you can always add on to what you’ve already done.

My dream was to continue my education, and I believe that my hard work will bring me closer to this new dream of becoming a businesswoman and to help people find jobs and even create more jobs for them. I received a lot help from others along my journey and that has taught me to extend the help to others. Therefore, I have spent a lot of my free hours volunteering in churches and in the community.

Whenever I have free time, I use it for knitting. I like to create beautiful things from yarn. Knitting has defined and enriched my life in many, many ways. My life and the lives of others are important to me, so I desire to live to serve them. Therefore, I knit my sweaters with love for others, and they help me knit my life together with their love. I never would have dreamed that knitting could be so meaningful. It is a simple skill, but it has changed my life.

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COMMENTARY

Calvinist Theology and a Capitalist Economy

by Jacob Whitfield Calvinism is a system of reformed Christianity named after John Calvin. The foundation of this doctrine is a development of Martin Luther’s justification through faith alone with emphasis on the grace of God and predestination. John Calvin lived from 1509 to 1564 and developed his branch of Protestantism during his life. Calvinism had significant impact on Europe during this time and became the major doctrine of most Protestant churches. Specific to economics, John Calvin taught predestination of the elect, with Luther’s doctrine of the “calling” in which each believer has an earthly function in which “he has the opportunity to prove his worth.” This doctrine placed significant importance on earthly success, an important component in the emergence of capitalism.

Capitalism came to prominence in Europe after the period of Mercantilism, which lasted from the 16th to the 18th centuries. Adam Smith’s The Wealth of Nations, published in 1776, suggests that capitalism was the cause of a nation’s wealth. The most important aspect of Adam Smith’s work is the “invisible hand,” which means that markets are selfregulating. It is this major idea that fuels Smith’s analysis.

Individualism is an important aspect of Calvin’s teaching of predestination; individualism is also the cornerstone of capitalist economic thought. The “invisible hand” is driven by individual actions and choices. Those that are predestined must fulfill their earthly calling in order for their faith to be fully revealed. This dogma enables the practice of capitalist work ethic and that individuals must work in order to receive the benefits. Capitalism is dependent on people that work, and Calvinism encouraged people to work. Protestant work ethic, an idea championed by Calvin, rivals individualism in its importance in capitalism.

Capitalist societal order is characterized by specialization. The same is true for Protestant work ethic. Both require people to fulfill a specific job and that job either advances the Kingdom of God or develops the economy. These ideas are closely related and important for understanding their arguments.

In its entirety, nothing has influenced western culture more than Christianity, and no greater influence has arisen from western culture more so than capitalism. Understanding this claim allows for greater understanding of the economic system that has dominated the western world for the last 300 years and the belief system that preceded and accompanied it.

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ARTS & CULTURE

VISTA MAGAZINE

FALL 2018 ISSUE

Why God Gave Me Brown Eyes

by Virginia Smith

They say the eyes are the window to the soul And that is why I believe God gave me brown eyes.

Your eyes, despite having little control over them, say a lot about you and who you are.

For example, If you roll your eyes, you’re a bitch.

If you stare, you’re a bitch.

Let’s face it, if you do anything with your eyes, people will take it the wrong way.

But your eyes do, in fact, give you away.

They say what you don’t need to say.

They water or turn red when you want to cry.

They show defeat when you sigh.

They sparkle when you feel like the sun is shining out of your very being.

They let us see what you’re feeling.

However, people also believe that your eye color says a lot about you.

Blue eyes are tranquil, wild, adventurous, and curious.

Green eyes are sporty, outgoing, restless, and reckless.

And then dear sweet outcasted brown eyes…

Brown eyes are intelligent, reserved, passionate, and shy.

We are the vanilla of the eye colors.

According to many “magical” men and women who safely swear by the power of predetermined destiny, We brown-eyed girls are every single nerdy sidekick in the movies.

We are the signature “take-off-the-glasses-and-suddenly-become-beautiful” character.

I do not believe in devious destiny that can simply be determined by my eyes.

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ARTS & & CULTURE CULTURE ARTS

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But I do believe my brown eyes have a reason.

With all other eye colors, you have light colors.

Effervescent and clear.

While mine are dark.

Deep and sunken in.

You have definition and contrast, While you can’t even tell where my pupils end and the color begins.

But they says eyes are the window to the soul…

Day 134 on the Ship:

How can you see into the soul with something so dark?

by Hannah Geil

For someone like me,

We’ve been on the ship for a while

I can’t even stand the thought of letting someone else see.

now. Dave has crafted up a game where

I can’t let them see a past and present I can’t control…

They can’t think I don’t have control.

The best way to hide is in the darkness.

he gambles with the ants for scraps they pull up from our rotting floorboards, and the ants receive bits of his LEGOtm spaceship he brought on before we set sail. The game requires

I imagine God knew I had to be the rock,

them to constantly move and whoever stops first loses. (The spaceship

He knew I had to be the parent,

is looking more like a giraffe every

He knew I would be this way…

hour.) We are still waiting to hear

I wonder, however, if I was the one who asked Him… If I was the one to beg Him to close the window, To put the attention that would come from beautiful eyes somewhere else…

To make them so dark nobody would know…

back from the captain on our progress. He has locked himself in his quarters and has requested that we only talk by passing notes under the door.....which is hard to do on a ship with limited paper. We try to fit in a message on a gum wrapper....but we cut out most of the vowels to make

And I imagine He knew…

He understood…

He closed and locked the window…

And gave me the darkest brown eyes he could.

it all fit... so we don’t really know if he actually understood any of it....

WELP! I better get back to paper patrol...someone has to tell the captain that the TP has officially run out before he starts eating dairy again.

Keep a weather eye on the horizon, Johnny

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COMMENTARY

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Descendant of Voyagers

by Rakiiba Vaalele My journey to North Park has been nothing short of amazing.

The grace of God and His never never-ending presence throughout my three years here has made this journey worth all the sacrifices, tears, and struggles. So, I am going to start from the very beginning, the journey of a girl from a small island in the Pacific who ended up in one of the top cities of the world.

The decision to come to North Park was never a thought or iota when I was a senior in high school.

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I was already committed to Clark University in Massachusetts to study Political Science and to pursue a career in law. However, I did a 360 when I met the Conways who were recruiting football athletes at our high school. They shared their stories and how there was a community of Polynesian students attending North Park University in the city of Chicago. At that moment, I had never felt anything so right. I felt an instant connection with the Conways. Defying my mother’s wishes,

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I committed to North Park University to study Business

the PCA’s president for two years has opened so many doors, opportunities, and support from the North Park community.

When I left home, my grandpa’s last words encouraged me to do everything that I do now and most important my why in life.

He said to me, “When you leave the comfort of your home, remember who are, remember your roots, remember your people, remember your culture & religion and most of all remember your family.” I took that, and I came here, and I carried them with me. To honor his memory and legacy, I vowed to honor his words by sharing the stories and traditions of my people and who I am.

Management that very same week. I had the mindset that it would be worth it, even though deep down there was the fear of disappointing my family.

With two suitcases, I hopped on the plane and made my journey here to Chicago. It was the best decision I have ever made in my life. The impossible became possible, and victory was waiting at the end of the tunnel because I believed that it was God’s will and that I was fulfilling my purpose right here at North Park.

“

At this point in my life, I am living a life of significance and service, but it also came with obstacles. I know everyhome, and for me home was 6,493 miles and some away, and it was overwhelming. I struggled with homesickness, cultural shock, transitioning into a a whole new place, and especially the weather. However, I persevered through the grace of God and the

”

constant reminder of how far I’ve made it on my journey.

Throughout the three years here at North Park, I’ve held multiple leadership positions. I’ve been a Compass Mentor, Resident Assistant, and now the current President

of

the

However,

the

most

out

journey

al

my

Association

Student was

with

Government

noteworthy founding

another

There is a saying in Samoa “O le ala I le pule o le tauta,” meaning “the path-

My goal is to empower young women to never be afraid to make sacrifices and pursue their goals.

one comes from a place they like to call

Association.

experience the

fellow

COMMENTARY

way through leadership is through service.” My purpose when I came here to North Park was to not only succeed academically, but also grow as a leader. My only wish and regret is that we do not have a high number of female Polynesians on campus.

Most of the students who are from the Pacific are males who play football at North Park and that is a stereotype that I am fighting to break. To be honest, it takes a lot of guts to come out this far if you’re a female from a Samoan family.

Moving to a foreign place can be unsettling for family members, so when I go home, my goal is to empower young women to never be afraid to make sacrifices and pursue their goals.

through-

Pacific

Cultur-

Samoan

student.

Close friends and colleagues would say “PCA is Kiiba’s baby,” which is true because PCA is my pride and joy. Being

The world is your oyster, and if you put your mind into it, you can accomplish anything you want. I, Rakiiba Vaalele of Samoa, Daughter to Chief Tatualelei Vaalele, descendant of voyagers, will continue to fulfill my God-given purpose on this earth.

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ARTS & CULTURE

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THE

Phenomenology

by Rebekah Law As an artist, phenomenology is second nature. It’s a subconscious thing an artist does, or rather is spurred on to do with education in art and immersing oneself in the arts. By intending to display work in a gallery, it becomes necessary for an artist to think about how the audience interacts with the piece. This informs the piece at some point in the creation of it.

Speaking into my own use of phenomenology, the way a piece is displayed is of equal importance to the work itself. At this point, the work becomes informed solely by the audience’s perception of it. In other words, phenomenology is an effort to give an account of what appears to us and an effort to be educated by the phenomenon. In these terms, speaking for my own practice, my work does follow a phenomenological path.

I usually start out with an idea of what I want communicated through my work and what the work is to be about. As the paint is laid onto the canvas, it becomes a learning process of the idea or subject I am painting. In this way, none of my paintings turn out the way I envisioned them at the beginning when I did preparatory drawings or even when the first layer of paint was laid down.

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OF ART Phenomenology in painting is not painting by numbers.

Painting by numbers is a type of process that divides a drawing out and picks a set of colors and assigns a number to each color andproceeds to put numbers on the shapes of the drawing. Colors do not blend together, the shapes stay precise, and the end result is exactly the way it was planned to be from its infancy. If this is an explanation of what phenomenology is, I would argue that one would be hard pressed to find an artist that does not practice phenomenology in their work. The painting process for me, and I do believe many artists, is a process that involves making mistakes that are pleasing and working with those mistakes to allow a work to develop into its own instead of forcing a work to be precise in how it was originally designed or thought up.

I have found, in my experience, that works of art I have done with a very specific purpose in mind tend to have fewer elements of being informed by the thing I am painting and tend to come out more like a paint by number kit. I did one painting about a traumatic experience I had the year prior. I planned out every element the piece before constructing it.

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Every part had meaning and value and purpose in being apart of the work. The phenomenological quality came later in figuring out how to display the work. Only after I had finished painting did I start thinking of how the viewer could interact with the work. The other less emotionally charged paintings have more layers of exploration. In those pieces, I allow myself to be more informed by the subject or idea itself and allow my painting to take different turns based on that information.

An example of a painting I did like this would be one I entitled “Emily,” which was a figure painting; I painted several layers before finishing. Emily, the subject, talked through our painting sessions and answered questions. The more I got to know her opinions, the more I changed my idea of what I wanted the painting to look like in the end.

“

.

As the paint is laid onto the canvas, it becomes a learning process of the idea or subject I am painting.

”

The way the material of paint works on a canvas can also inform or navigate how a piece turns out. An artist working with messy materials is bound to make a mistake that seemingly ruins their painting. Ink spills, paint splatters, clay falling apart could all be seen as a disaster and often are by the individuals working on such art. However, what is often found in the art community is a desire to incorporate the mistake, rather than fixing it, to further extract a meaning or development of the work of art.

Most often, such mistakes are not as catastrophic as aforementioned and could be as simple as a line of paint dripping down the side of a canvas, colors mixing together instead of creating a line, or a color not turning out the same hue as once hoped for. All these things could be considered mistakes, and one could argue that they should be painted over. In light of phenomenology, the way materials in art can work to make mistakes can be just as helpful in informing the work of art than the original idea.

Day 173 on the Ship:

by Hannah Geil Today was a day full of weird events.

Tyrone decided he wanted to begin his surfing career using an old plank of wood that was covered in rusted screws.

He decided that if he didn’t pick up the sport fast enough, he would ride the

waves

of

tetanus.

Fjal

became

infatuated with the ways in which the birds fought over dead flesh and began trying to create a dance which replicated

their

quarrel....and

most

people on the ship worried he was having a seizure. Timothy took it upon himself to design and create a fire pit on the top deck. He decided that he has always wanted to have s’mores in the middle of the ocean and has wondered why people have never done this before....... on a wooden boat........we don’t even have marshmallows..... anyway, I need to go make sure there are no fires on board.......

Keep a weather eye on the horizon?

You might find someone surfing there...in the middle of the ocean....

Johnny

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RELIGION & FAITH

VISTA MAGAZINE

FALL 2018 ISSUE

THE INTERSECTION OF YOUTH MINISTRY AND THEOLOGY

By Kayla Feil

Today’s culture for middle and high school students involves a lot of different things. They love Fortnite, hip hop (that isn’t as good as it used to be), Snapchat, and other social media trends. Along with the ease of accessing the Internet, they’re able to access the problems of the world more easily. Especially in Chicago, they are close to the issues at hand and know people who are found at the center of such hard situations. There’s a lot going on in the mind of a middle schooler, and along with trying to figure out themselves, there is a continuation of questions and uncertainty.

In an evangelical point of view, youth ministry is essential. Many Christians seem to come to faith at a young age, whether it be through church programs, friends inviting them to youth group, or attending camp. Students between the ages of 12 and 18 are finding themselves at a major turning point in life; they may commit to faith for the first time or turn away from it altogether. Teenagers start learning more than what they were exposed to by their parents, and the world begins to get a bit bigger with more ways to see life; more questions arise, and they’re seeking for truth, especially in a world that is full of facades. The uncertainty just gets even more overwhelming.

I think in the middle of that uncertainty is where students find themselves intersecting with theology.

Photos used with permission from North Park University

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RELIGION & FAITH

“ The Church is certain in knowing that God loves the world but is uncertain in how that may look in the life of today.

” Theology, which in short is the study of God and religious

Even with all the uncertainties that the Church faces,

belief, is concrete but also is uncertain. We know a lot about

there are a lot of “certainties” that can be pressed

the Bible because we’re able to go to the Greek or Hebrew

into at this intersection of youth ministry and theology.

text and translate it, helping us to get as accurate of a story as possible. We have creeds and ecumenical councils and systems set up in churches to ensure that there is accountability in what is being said, yet we still have a bit of uncertainty. It’s the uncertainty that every adult has that breeds faith. It’s the uncertainty that just kind of happens because God is so big that humans, even the greatest scholars, will never see the full picture and will have questions, a sort of mystical “what’s behind the curtain?” wonder.

So, much like middle schoolers who find themselves certain of their classes that they have every day but not certain of what they might learn, the Church is certain in knowing that God loves the world but is uncertain in how that may look in the life of today. I think this is what youth pastors or people mentoring youth in the Church need to express sometimes.

The truth is that as Christians, we can be certain that there is a God in Heaven who has created us all and loves everyone. We can be certain that He loved us so much that He gave His only son that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life. We can be certain that even after the death of Jesus, God is present on Earth through the form of the Holy Spirit. We can be certain that God knows more than we know and that we can find peace in that, even in the uncertainty of life. This point is where true discipleship and true youth ministry come in.

Youth ministry creates disciples much like in the example of Jesus and His disciples. Jesus walked among the disciples and showed them the way, even when they weren’t getting it; youth ministry does the same thing, with the addition of games, retreats, and meetings at Starbucks. Jesus didn’t

Students have this preconceived notion that adults have

expect His disciples to get everything right away; He

everything figured out. So, what would happen if we

knew that they would have questions. Those questions

broke down that wall between students and “adults?”

and uncertainties led to understandings, which led to

In a bigger scope, if the Church was more vulnerable in

the true way of the Gospel. It’s a process that is long, and

expressing that there still is some mystery and “unknowns,”

it never ends. Uncertain kids grow up to be uncertain

then that may bring peace to students who feel lost.

adults, but through the intersection of youth ministry and theology, uncertain kids and adults turn to a certain God amid everything and that is what ministry is all about.

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COMMENTARY

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FALL 2018 ISSUE

Frail Book

By Jacob Bretz “I don’t really think it’s broken,” I said to John from the discomfort of my cot. “It’s just a bad sprain.” John pursed his lips slightly and furrowed his brow, nodding and then shaking his head slightly.

“Fuck man, I hope you’re right,” he comforted as he stepped a bit closer to my exposed ankle, now the size of a 10-inch softball. Jim’s eyes—unfocused, trending to the wood-slat floor of our tent— widened slightly at John’s words. He didn’t believe me either.

“Sorry I can’t do the hike today,” John almost cut me off— “dude, c’mon. Don’t be sorry. I’m just glad you’re alive.” With that, he turned and walked through the door, past the Stone Nudes calendar and my trad rack. I turned over and looked at Jim again. Noting my gaze, he glanced up and gave a slow shake of his head. “Guess I’ll get ready for work,” he said as he swung his legs off the bunk. He went over to his wardrobe, took out a food-and-dirt-stained chef’s coat and fastened an olive green cap on his head. He walked out the door, and I was alone.

3:30 AM. My alarm blared, cutting through air soup, hot even this early in the morning. I turned on my side and found the clothes I had set out the night before folded on my chair. I stood and staggered to the door, grabbed my shiny-new rack of cams, harness, shoes, and rope on the way out. I found Neel leaning against his car, smoking a Camel Blue, per usual. A massive grin split my face; I pumped my free fist in the air, and he let out his signature manic giggle. “Ready man?” he asked, grinning now too. I tossed my gear in his trunk and hopped into the passenger seat.

We took the 41 to the valley, windy and treacherous. Luckily, it was an early enough start—I don’t remember a single other car on the ride past Glacier Point, Bridal Veil Falls, a stunning view of El Capitan.

We eventually found the pull-off near the trailhead and back-

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tracked our way towards Cathedral Rocks. Passing the classic boulders lying just inside the forest boundary, we weaved our way up switchbacks too steep and numerous to quantify. “At least…it’ll be easier… coming back down,” I joked through choked breaths.

“Oh yeah, it’s broken alright.” My vision blurred slightly as the doctor pulled out a series of translucent x-rays of a disfigured ankle. “See here?” Eyes slightly crossed, my vision wandering over the back-lit scans. “This is your talus bone.

People didn’t even know you could break this until we started crashing airplanes. How did you say you did this again?”

“I fell,” I muttered.

“Must’ve been a hell of a fall.”

I called my mother from my room in the Mariposa ER. She was less than thrilled to say the least. I was supposed to be in Norway in a few weeks—I wasn’t even going to stop home before then.

Thankfully, I was so disorganized I hadn’t bought a ticket yet. Too bad I didn’t have insurance—the ER bill hurt worse than the fall.

The nurse wheeled me back into the waiting room; Neel glanced up from the magazine in his hands. “What’s the news?” he asked. I just chuckled and shook my head, “It’s broken alright.”

I had just led the last 100 or so feet on about six pieces of gear.

Not because placements were scarce, or I had a pared down rack—the multitude of pockets, slots, and vertical cracks made for plentiful protection. I consistently ran it out because Braille Book was the most vertical wall I had climbed thus far and despite the relative lack of exposure, I was scared out of my gourd.

FALL 2018 ISSUE

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I put together an anchor—a #4 nut behind a suspect chockstone, a sling around the same and a black Metolius in a nearby crack.

“ON BELAY!” I yelled into the ether. I had no idea if Neel heard me, no reference to anything outside that world of rock and air.

He eventually reached the anchor, huffing and puffing in his usual smoker style. “Nice runouts dude!” coughing through shaky breaths. “Yeah, thanks man,” I said, trying to show a badassery I didn’t feel anymore. I was scared.

I wanted to get home, back on solid ground again. But we were just a pitch or two from the top, and I wasn’t about to admit I was out of my element so close to the summit. “Your lead,” I said as he climbed past me.

COMMENTARY

It was an emotionless thought; there was no time for fear.

It was an acceptance of death without existential dread, without comfort. The hopelessness of my situation nullified any instinctual response. I was tied into a rope; I was on a safe section of the climb. Yet, I fell and didn’t stop.

Before I left for Yosemite, I had premonition dreams. Actually, they weren’t so much dreams, more a feeling I got every time I slept. Every couple of nights, in the month leading up to the summer, I would jolt awake—short of breath, sweating, with hands clenched tight. Most of you have felt it, that sort of falling sensation right as you drift off to sleep—you fall through your bed, straight through this world and into the next. This was pretty similar— except I would hit the ground.

“ I had one thought as I fell, bouncing off the knobby granite into empty space: ‘I’m going to die.’

They say right before you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes.

That in that moment of intense stress and panic, you reach some sort of historical clarity—remembering those moments you’d forgotten, savoring the joys and pains of life equally. They say time slows down, that you have time to contemplate what this all means before reaching the end. That’s not true.

Time doesn’t slow when you die. Memory doesn’t play a part at all. You don’t think of anything or anyone in particular. You’d like to think your thoughts would rest on your family or friends, but in truth your brain neglects your loved ones. I didn’t think of lovers or friends or my parents. My mind didn’t fixate on fond memories or regrets or anything. I had one thought as I fell, bouncing off the knobby granite into empty space: “I’m going to die.”

”

Packing up the car with John, Jim, and my parents, I mentioned something about my strange dreams. My parents were aghast, my father especially so. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best thing to bring up right before leaving for a couple month long climbing stint. Mom and Dad hardly knew what climbing was—I’m sure they imagined some sort of Stalloneian Cliffhanger-like romp. “You know your mother and I would just be heartbroken if anything happened to you,” my dad said in that part-concerned, part-condescending, part-pleading way of his.

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“You know who would be way more bummed if I died, Dad?” I retorted, “Me.” My body jarred; the rope grew taught and stretched. I glanced down, noting the ledge a few feet below me. I must’ve been less than a foot from hitting the outcropping. One more millisecond of freefall, and I’d be typing this with a fucking tube.

“ARE YOU OKAY?” Neel yelled from above. “I’M SO SORRY, DUDE.” I still don’t know what happened or how it did. All I know is that somehow Neel dropped me, then caught me.

When he made it back down to the ledge I was barely secured to, we both took stock of our injuries. The calluses on his palm and finger were fused white, probably nearly second degree burns just from the friction of catching a falling, weighted rope. When I was a kid, in the parking lot of my greatgrandma’s nursing home, I remember seeing the exhaust pipe to our old Buick. It was vibrating like crazy, the car must’ve still been on. I can’t remember why anymore but for some reason, I reached out and grabbed the exhaust pipe. Neel’s hand looked exactly like my burned toddler mitt, white and peeling. I was wildly grateful he sacrificed some skin for my life.

My ankle wasn’t any better. Before he rapped back to our ledge, I tested it a bit. It couldn’t hold an ounce of weight. Pain isn’t quite the right word—more like weakness or instability.

Either way, I knew for sure I couldn’t climb. “Let’s get off this damn rock,” I said and threaded the rope for the next rappel.

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FALL 2018 ISSUE

I wept. Half-chuckling, half-sobbing—I considered my situation: I hadn’t eaten since four in the morning or so; it was getting close to eight at night. I’d crawled, hobbled, hopped, and tumbled down this boulder field for the last hour or so, with no end in sight. I was entirely alone, having sent Neel ahead for water once we ran out. Despite my dehydration, I had to relieve myself terribly—a difficult process considering I couldn’t exactly stand up or squat. Perched on that massive boulder, I realized the absurdity of my plight.

The only way off of the rock was right through my own urine trail. Seat completely torn from my pants, dirt in my hair and under my fingernails, face and hands and arms bleeding from the beating I just took, I scooched my ass through my own piss, further into the boulders. I was three hours into the descent and only had three more to go.

I eventually made it back to the car. A blanket of stars plastered the sky above; it should’ve been beautiful. Neel had found me an hour before. He carried and led me alternatively; we rested when we needed and crawled when I had to. A fifteen-minute nap on the side of the last hill did little more than dirty my hair further. The road came in to view, and Neel helped me back in to the passenger seat. “Sorry you had to drive so much today; I would if I could,” I joked. Neel’s shoulders bobbed with a few short snorts; he looked at me with tired eyes, “Don’t apologize man. You can sleep if you have to.” My eyelids were already drooping, “Good climb today, dude. You free tomorrow?”

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ARTS & CULTURE

FOREST VENTURES

by Haley Hack I take pleasure in sauntering along the slender pathway, As it snakes amongst the wooded area.

It spawns a sensation of tranquility, Along with leaving my anxious mind to sleep.

The forest is serene and heavenly.

I value its vast overshadow, And I sense I am in a John Bauer landscape In this sphere nature has formulated for me.

I never want to escape, I feel a nous of magic In the breezy, invigorating atmosphere, As I hunt to find veiled mysteries That the woodland had to display.

I gather the eccentric hums of the forest As I gently mush through the mossy field, And cease to perceive the marvels Mother Nature reveals for me this time.

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COMMENTARY

VISTA MAGAZINE

FALL 2018 ISSUE

FIRST GENERATION COLLEGE STUDENT STORIES

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Photo by Ethan Oliver

FALL 2018 ISSUE

VISTA MAGAZINE

COMMENTARY

Family Is Number One

by Andrea Ascencio

Coming from a family in which my mom was the head of the household and had to take care of and raise 3 kids, I had to step up and help. My older brother became a father at a very young age, so he had to give up school and work in order to raise his own child. He moved out of the house and started building his life the way he didn’t want to. He always dreamt of being a very successful businessman and because he gave up school, he couldn’t accomplish that without a college degree.

I have always used my brother and my mom as people that I am competing against. They didn’t accomplish what they wanted to because of the struggles that they faced as children. I know that my mom and older brother expect me to be better than them and get a better job, one I actually enjoy doing. Because I am the only girl in the family and the second oldest, I feel obligated to make my mom proud. She always encourages me to be the best that I can and to try my hardest in everything that I encounter.

As a first generation college student, I didn’t know what to expect when coming to college. I was afraid that I wasn’t going to be able to deal with being at school alone without my family. My older brother had the opportunity to go to college, but he didn’t take it, and so it was up to me to lead my younger brothers to the good path. It was very difficult choosing where I wanted to go because I didn’t know if I was going to fit in. I visited multiple colleges, and I didn’t feel welcomed or like I belonged there. Distance was also a big factor. I visited colleges that were 4 hours away by plane and others that were 4 hours away driving, but I always felt homesick. I wanted a college in which I was able to experience the college life in the dorms, but I also didn’t want to be too far away from home. I have always been attached to my family, and I believe that if I was very far away from them, I wouldn’t have a good time in college.

“

Photo by Ethan Oliver

people here willing to help me succeed and fight for my rights. I have multiple friends who are also DREAMERS, and I can talk to them about the struggles that we often face, such as discrimination. Before I started college, I was afraid that I wouldn’t do well in classes or that they would be too hard. Although that may be the case for some classes, the professors are very helpful and will always be willing to help out. I think it is very heartwarming that many professors look out for our well-being and understand us. I like how small the classes are because it allows me to know my professors better. I didn’t expect professors to be so kind. I think I was used to having my high school teachers not really care about our personal lives.

As a DREAMER, I feel a part of the community.

”

When I came to North Park, I felt like I belonged here. People were very friendly and welcoming as I walked through the campus. As a DREAMER, I feel a part of the community. I know multiple

As I progress through college and decide what I want to major in, I will always have my family in mind even though they aren’t too far away from me. My family is my number one motivation to graduate college with an excellent GPA. I want to be able to show my little brothers that education does matter and that as long as they work really hard for what they want, they will accomplish it. I want to look back someday and think about all my struggles and realize that it was all worth it because I’ll finally be doing something I love.

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I Never Imagined...

by Irma Bahena

FALL 2018 ISSUE

Before school started, I was feeling very anxious but also very excited. I was excited to shop for my dorm, excited to meet my roommate but also very excited to be on my own. I was also very anxious because it was the first time I wouldn’t have my parents around. This meant I had to worry about getting my own food, cleaning my clothes, and making sure I took care of my mental and physical health.

My anxiety kicked in after my parents left campus for home. I was on my own for the first time. After move-in hours, the incoming freshmen had dinner together. I was very overwhelmed by seeing so many new faces that I didn’t know. I saw other people who interviewed for the Lighthouse Scholarship with me, and I was very happy for them. I instantly made new friendships, and the mentors became more like family.

In a short amount of time, we spent a lot of hours together as a group.

Photo by Ethan Oliver

As a first generation student, not going to college was not an option. I know that college is very expensive, but I know things are worth it when they aren’t easy. I absolutely had to attend college because my parents didn’t get a chance because they had to come to the United States. So, I had to be different and show them that I’m very thankful for their efforts and support. My name is Irma Bahena, and I am a freshman at North Park University. There are many schools that competed for my attention, but the one that caught my eye was North Park. I always said that when I went off to college, I wanted it to be similar to my high school. Back of The Yards College Prep was diverse, had amazing staff, everyone was very helpful, but most importantly, it provided many resources.

When I first heard about North Park it was through my mentor, Vanessa Lee. I never imagined attending a private university because my parents couldn’t afford to pay and even with additional financial aid, it would’ve been a lot of money. Thankfully, my mentor from my highschool told me about the Lighthouse Scholarship.

I applied and got my interview. As soon as I entered Hamming Hall, I realized that it was a very diverse school from seeing those who were getting interviewed as well.

“

Professor Song was my first professor, and I really enjoyed taking a class before school started to see how things were actually going to be. Not only did I see how classes would be, but I was able to make new friends. COMPASS gave me a way to adapt to the new environment, and it gives students so many advantages, such as knowing your way around campus and building relationships with professors even before school starts. I remember I didn’t feel as lonely on my first day of classes because I felt comfortable, and there were a lot of people from campus that I would see around and say hello to me.

As a freshman in college, there were many challenges I had to overcome, such as letting my parents know that I wasn’t able to go home every weekend because I had to get used to this environment. At first it was very hard for them, but they understand everything I’m doing isn’t only for myself but also for them. Another challenge is managing my time well because I am taking 5 classes for Quad A. I am definitely getting used to using my planner as often as I can because it helps me stay organized.

Everything I’m doing isn’t only for myself but also for them.

”

After the interview, I got a tour around the school. I was so amazed to see how great the people were. Even if they didn’t know you, they would still say hello or try to help if you were lost. I was amazed at how big the library was, the gym, the rooms, how each class had few students, and how it was a small campus yet big enough for me to build connections. That’s when I knew North Park was the one. I was very lucky to have gotten the scholarship; it gave me so many opportunities.

Although I live an hour away, I wanted to experience living on my own to become a more dependent person. The Lighthouse Scholarship gave me the opportunity to live on campus in addition to completing the COMPASS program.

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Being a college student has made me realize that I am an adult now, and the decisions I make can either impact me for good or bad. College is definitely an eye-opener.

I realized that I have a lot of free time in contrast to high school when I would have classes for eight hours at a time. It really helps me me understand that there are a lot of things I can do around campus. That’s another thing I love about NPU; there’s always something happening, whether it’s a school event or an event happening in the building where you stay.

North Park’s environment makes me feel very welcomed and comfortable, so it has made my college experience great so far. Choosing NPU was the best decision I could have made. I feel much joy knowing that what I’m doing right now is what’s going to start my future career. I am very thankful to my parents for helping me out through all the decisions I’ve made so far. Without them, I don’t think I could be where I am at today.

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COMMENTARY

Following My Dream

by Thais Martinez

“Mija go to whatever school you want. I don’t care if I have to work three jobs to pay for it, all I want is for you to be successful and happy.” These words came from my lovely mother. She has always been extremely supportive, and she trusted that I was making the right decisions for my future.

Even though I knew I had my mom’s full support to attend a fouryear university, I still questioned whether or not I was making the right choice. I was in a very difficult situation. I saw my mom working extremely hard all the time, and I was only in high school. I couldn’t imagine all she was going to have to do once I began college.

Photo by Ethan Oliver

Many of my friends encouraged me to attend a two-year community college because it was less expensive. I won’t deny it; there were times when I thought I would be attending a community college this fall. Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong about attending a community college. I was simply discouraged because my mind was set on attending North Park University since the first time I visited the campus.

I am a person who chooses to believe that God doesn’t hand us anymore than we are capable of handling at a time. Thus, I chose to follow my dream and attend a four-year university. I was fearful at first but determined. I chose to attend the four-year school I wanted in hopes of experiencing the full college experience. Even though I wasn’t able to stay on campus in the dorms this year, I plan to next year once I have saved up some more of my own money.

On the other hand, I also had friends encouraging me to attend North Park. They reminded me that whatever I decided to do, I was going to be okay.

I wanted to attend North Park because it has such a great setting in the city. I love that unlike many other four-year universities, North Park is actually pretty small, and trust me, that isn’t a bad thing.

I wanted to be able to attend a school where I could build close relationships with my professors and strong bonds with my peers.

“ I am a person who chooses to

believe that God doesn’t hand us anymore than we are capable of handling at a time.

” They also mentioned that there were many loans and different things I could do throughout college in order to help me pay for it. One of my closest friends used to tell me how my mother was an extremely hard working woman and that together, she believed, we would find a way to make it work.

Even though it’s still a bit early in the year, I already have done so. I have met some really great and interesting people at North Park, and I am absolutely sure that I will continue to meet wonderful people. Attending North Park has given me the sense of belonging to a community. I’m really enjoying my college experience. I have learned that it’s important to be willing to take chances even though we might be scared of the outcomes. We don’t know what could happen if we don’t try.

Paying for school has indeed been challenging for my mom and I, but so far we have managed to get through it, and we will continue to get by with God’s help. I still have some fears as a college student, but I know that little by little I will overcome the hard times. It’s important to remember that tough times don’t last, tough people do, and in the end, it will all be worth it.

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ARTS & CULTURE

VISTA MAGAZINE

FALL 2018 ISSUE

Deathrattle

by Cole Altmayer

Upon a graveyard hill, there stands Twin organs of flameless fire, choking under the gaze of October wind.

Twisting without its shout, turning only to slobber Spat from the mouth of a sick child God caught impotent without its Mother.

Earth plastered flat by a fibrous film Phlegmy and sodden, friction wrested by rains from a canvas sky.

They are the shreds of lungs from a dreaming world with feverish fancies of March.

Breathe in deep the fumes of the harvest moon See its silent shades of heat writ into a screaming sonnet Let the child you stand upon descend sixfold downward Where he can dance with his brother devil on All Hallow’s Eve and drink deep, come Springtime until he is merry once again.

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Photo by Nicolas Cady

Vista Magazine was created out of a desire to bring the North Park University community a new campus publication focused on politics, religion, and arts and culture. Our mission is to be a platform for North Park students to share their thoughts and ideas. Our staff is comprised of North Parkers from various walks of life. Our interests and opinions range, but we are all bound by the common goal of seeing Vista fufill its mission.

All written content of this magazine may not be reproduced, duplicated, republished, or featured without prior consent from the publishing editors. Social media photos and some images resourced through free licensing agreements. All rights reserved.

Print layout & design by Caroline Patterson Cover photo by Ethan Oliver

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