Long Time Coming

The time has come to put those "other things" on the back burner. All the starts and stops, all of the empty promises, well meaning as they might have been, lead to nothing. The flag must now be planted- granted it may not happen all at once, but the line must now be drawn and not crossed. Later, it might be moved further out- closer to Him, when I am more worthy. The point is to never, never give up. Now, less writing and more living and doing for Him. We can read all the books we like on travel, but if we never left our living room the reading is somehow in vain. Books become maps and maps become roads, the most important thing to remember is to always be walking with Him, not away. If I should ever lose my way, I know He'll always provide the road signs. Peace and Love always.

Those In Need

When you feel the most empty, give all that you can away; when times are the hardest for you, strive to make them easier for someone else. When you are hurting and in pain, comfort another. I believe God has set life up to work just in this way. Only by giving the medicine to another are we able to get it ourselves. Maybe when He sees us taking steps to help others and ignoring ourselves, then His nature is to move in and take care of us. The poor man who donates his last dollar never seems to run completely out of money. The survivor on a lifeboat who puts the others' needs ahead of his own always seems to be the one to survive. If we only do for ourselves, we are in essence telling Him, "Don't bother me- I don't have time for others. You'll have to take care of them. I'm too busy with myself"- at which point He agrees and moves on to help the ones who do need it- the ones too busy with those in need to ever think of themselves.

Other Times, Other Books

All of our favorite stories, much like life, will come to an end- of this I’m certain. That’s not to say that there won’t be sequels, or trilogies, or even a wonderful new series later. But it isn’t up to us. The Great Author will decide what is best for all of our stories. The pen is in the most capable of all hands.

Grades

There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t stray from Him. From waking up to the shower I have already failed Him, in thoughts as well as in deeds. I only hope that when He dispenses with our grades at the end of term, there might be the option of an “E” for effort. Who among us, even of the saints, were able to earn an A?

And So It Goes

The one thing we must never do is be critical of something that someone else feels is important. We have all done it, as teenagers we relentlessly criticized our parents' (or grandparents') choice of music, of fashion, of things that they once cared about passionately and that had meant something to them so long ago. Times change, of course, but those things that gave them special memories never did. Sometimes I look back in shame at the haughty attitudes we all had towards them- how we all knew better, how much our tastes had refined since those bygone days. The thing to do, the adult thing, is to try and find some positive thing in that which means so much to them. It may seem trivial (though I'm beginning to doubt that anything that happens to us is), but there may be a larger lesson here. If we ignore our biases and try to understand why these things meant so much to them, we may truly begin to grow as people. There may come a time when the small, insignificant, forgotten things that mean so much to us will have to be explained as well, will have to be understood by another. As we have done unto others, so shall be done to the best of us. And so it goes . . .

No Pass or Fail

God is easy to please, but difficult to satisfy. If you follow Him, there will never come a day where you will hear "Very good, you have passed all the tests and are finished learning. I will now go away and leave you alone." We were never meant to be left alone.

In Whatever You Do

All effort pays off. Just by the fact that you have put forth the effort means you will be miles ahead of those who haven't, even if it doesn't seem so at the time. Whatever you do, even the most menial, seemingly unimportant task- strive for excellence. I suspect alot of the time He is waiting to see what we will do with the small things before moving us on to the greater ones.

A Year On In

8/19/2009
So much bad and so much good a year ago today. There is the thoughts of driving home, getting the phone call- rushing to the hospital. The awkward prayers whispered to myself, bargaining to Him as if I had anything to bargain with. Promises of doing this or that if things would just turn out well, then of course the dead silence from the Lord, the dreaded pulling away and a sense of the soft “no . . . not now. You don’t understand”. The doctor’s sandals and the carpet in the waiting room as he explained it all, not much hope . . . maybe a few hours, maybe a few days. Endless phone calls and listening to the story again and again. An hour of sleep and suddenly wide awake, pondering if it was a dream . . . no, it’s all too real. Calls from the hospital, maybe not much time. Standing by the bed, but not too close- fearing if I were too close it would all come rushing in. Tears are fought and I mean fought hard. It wouldn’t do to blubber like a baby, later- in private I tell myself. Kitchen still to be cleaned from his cooking the same day. The hardest blow of all. Tears and more, then silences and peace, like waves. The good came later, the family and friends with concern in their eyes. An uncle who shows up and explains what is going on, calming me down inside. Like small blessings surrounding me, I sense a strange feeling of calm amongst the chaos. The gifts of Christmas morning surround me, in the worst of possible times. Strange how serene the room became, tears of course, but later peace. A shout of “He’s home!” just when I was beginning to lose hope. Much like life, first innocent happiness, then sadness and pain . . . and finally, joy. Memories and heartaches, burned in my mind- guaranteed to last a lifetime.

Trilogy

I’m beginning to see that the first part of our life is spent joyously making mistakes, and the second part is spent humbly cleaning up after the first part. The third part will be the one that lasts.

Swords

Sometimes the only thing left to do is to put down your sword- perhaps plunge it deep into the sand- and leave the fight to Him. In fact, this is what we must always do.

Any Other Day

A great day today at the school. So why on such a good day should I miss him so deeply? Once again, all the old wounds appear freshly opened and actually worse than when they were originally torn. The great paradox. A man thinks more of a sunny day at night, when he no longer has it, than in the middle of the day when it is right there to enjoy. The song was played excellently today on the grand old piano, but am I the only one who noticed how much one missing key seem to slightly tarnish the whole thing?

The Only One Left

It is possible that youth has passed away, and that all I have chased after to get back is gone for good. It is possible that I won't be as successful as I might have been If only I had started sooner on the Great Road, when there was more time, rather than taking the easy way that led to nowhere, to desert wastelands. It's a mighty long walk when you know it didn't have to be that way, and lots of time to think. It's possible I may never conquer all of my weaknesses: a self-centered nature, lazy, critical, too many to mention. It's possible I may never grasp the bar of excellence missed so long ago. The road I walk now is walked alone. The road is not to youth, nor to good looks, money, success, power . . . but to Him who makes ALL things possible. Sometimes that which is impossible here may be waiting in the Great Kingdom, but only He knows for certain. What I have squandered, even still today, cannot be gotten back. What was wasted, is long since spoiled away. All there is now is Hope in the One who crafted me from the beginning, who knows my heart, who knows all of my horrible, daily faults and still offers a way back. I'm not sure how anyone could ever turn down such an offer, not when all solid ground has crumbled away beneath us. I only know that it is a bit of a shame that we only choose to go over to the right side when the wrong one we've been fighting with has left us with nothing. It's far from noble when a man kneels only because he can no longer stand up. In all of this, with all our plans lodged against Him, in the final act He accepts us still.

The Soft No

You can almost tell when God is not going to grant a request, even the most ardent ones. When praying to Him, there is a silence- a stillness as you are asking, almost as though He has pulled back for a time. I never noticed it before, of course, but the more I go to Him the more I recognize it. It's not as though a door is being slammed in the face, but more like a "not now . . . you do not understand." It's a soft "no", but never a yell. In the darkness, quiet yet firm, the answer always resides.

East or West

Do the best you can. He doesn’t expect us to be perfect, and unfortunately this side of heaven we shall never be completely free of sin (only He had that honor). We should, however, always be trying. Every day there should be something that we are not doing that we would like to, or something we are doing that others might never take the time to try. There must be a difference about us if we truly belong to Him, the flag must surely be flown to show where our true country lies. None of us are standing still. I’m afraid we are moving in one of two directions daily: either servitude or rebellion.

Missing Keys

True losses are like a few keys on a piano that have been snatched away. The instrument still plays well enough and we are able to make do for the most part. There are however some songs that without those specific, important notes will never be able to be performed again.

Which Artist Do We Choose?

In the end, it may not matter what was done to us or how much someone hurt us. The thing that counts, the thing that will be left, the thing that will ultimately endure, is how did we respond? Did we forgive, did we grow in spite of it, or did we let it shape us with bitterness the rest of our lives. In essence, did we allow this pain to paint the rest of days for us? Better to let go, for we were meant to be sketched by another artist- One not of this world.

Who But He?

This same God that created the heavens and the earth, with all of its cold logic, iron-clad rules of nature, birth and death, space as vast and unfriendly to life as anything we have encountered here- has shown himself capable not just of unbreakable Law, but of Love. He who is to be feared among all things (as He has the power of eternity, and only a fool would approach Him with head up and proud and unafraid), He who has need of nothing, has somehow made Himself in need of us. The remarkable thing, the wondrously amazing thing that always makes me stop to catch my breath, is that once- at a dinner long ago- He chanced to call us "friend".

Turning Away

Each day I resolve to be a better person, to live a clean life, to follow His teachings- and each day, I inevitably end up letting myself down. I'm amazed He hasn't given up on me yet, when it seems every fiber of my being desires to go a different way from Him, to have its' way at any cost, gratifying nothing but the self. This is what He meant when He said we must crucify ourselves, we must cut away that which keeps us from Him, that which builds the rock wall of separation. The worst thing is to see yourself nodding in agreement to the Great Master, and then, just when His back is turned, like a child, doing just what you wanted all along. The Great Hypocrite. It can't last like this. There must be a point, maybe a painful one, when I put everything that is not of Him away- even the closest things, the things I'm sure I can't change about myself, the things I know I can't live without, the things that are my own private business. It all must be put out to pasture. There must be something else inside that turns away, even when every fiber of your being wishes to do the wrong thing. It is the voice, soft and still and yet loud as the thunder of an approaching storm; a voice that whispers, "Not my will, But Yours be done, Father".

Safe Places

There is no safety this side of heaven. Love and you may be hurt, try to fly and you might fall, take chances and the result may be failure. This is not a fool-proof world, nor did He intend it to be. We are here to learn, to grow, even to fail. The one thing we must never do is to try and live in complete safety. Board up the doors and windows, seal off the cracks and crevices, ensure that nothing can ever harm you or hurt you, and you will find the great fortress of a coffin. Of course, even there, He can always reach you.

His Will

Some pray for what they want, asking God to give it to them. The wiser ones kneel before Him quietly, saying "I know what I want, but You know what I need." Of course, the hardest thing of all- the most difficult thing in the world for most of us, the truly rarest thing, is to say, "Forget about what I want, forget about what I need, tell me what YOU want. Tell me what YOU need." This is the most terrifying thing, if we truly mean it, because we have suddenly placed ourselves completely at His mercy. We have become as the man who suddenly realizes the importance of oxygen and air when He is trapped at the bottom of a lake, the thing unseen and taken for granted- now the only thing that truly matters.

The End of the Road

The worst situations bring out the best in us. Think about it, how many times have we gotten into a better path after coming through a horrendous storm? Sometimes He provides a gift that looks like anything but - something called Pain. Through pain we might choose a different path, become a better person, visit a country we never would have thought to travel to- the point is, when the trail we have been traveling on ends, there might be a reason. He means for us to take another path, and this is the only way to stop us in our tracks. The pain is a signpost pointing to another land. Perhaps there is a better trail that leads to places the other never could have gotten us to. Maybe to eternity.

Again and Again

It’s amazing how many starts and stops we can have in our lives. He brings us so close to our goal and yet, many times, we fall away back into our old habits, as antique and out of date as they may be. Sometimes we settle for crumbs even when the full meal has been set before us. I suspect it is forgivable as long as we keep trying. Whether we be 18 or 80, may we always get back up again after we fall. This may be the most important goal in the end anyway. Only He knows for certain.

The First Page

Do not be held back by your past. None of us are the same people we were twenty, ten, even five years ago (thanks be to God). He is constantly evolving us, moving us forward, forcing us into things we never believed we could accomplish. The thought that we can never change and that we are stuck as the beings we were years ago is a lie, and a damned lie at that. The enemy would like so much for us to believe this, because if we do, there’s no incentive to change, to grow, to achieve beyond the limited yard of our youth. Two or three steps is not a journey- it is hardly even a beginning. Make no mistake, we are all spirits on the move. Our life is merely the preface to what may be one of the greatest, most complete stories ever written.

A Curse or a Blessing?

God does not waste pain and discomfort on those who cannot benefit by it. Once we have gone too far and demanded our independence, once we have planted our flag and locked the gates, He may finally, hopelessly, regrettably, leave us alone. In this way, the real curse may not be our tribulations, but when we reach the point in our life when we no longer have them.

All the King's Men

As nice as it is to stand on the sidelines and watch, God intended us to be the players. A vacation spot is nice, but it becomes a completely different place when you go to live there. There is work to be done, responsibilities, errands, effort to put forth. In short, we must not settle for snapshots of life. Put the pictures down and begin living. When I was young, I reasoned and acted as a child. Later, when I became a man, I reasoned like a man. Let us never again be satisfied with baby food when we were made to sit at a lavish feast with the Master and converse with grown-ups

Rough Drafts

I frequently look back in horror at the things I have done and said in my life, things that I either should have known better or things that I thought were clever and humorous, but on further reflection were really shameful things; things that were boastful, proud, hurtful, neglectful, condescending, immature, childish, even cowardly. Of course, the key is to forgive oneself, even if you must do it in small steps daily. This may be one of the hardest things any of us can ever do. How can we begin to forgive others when we cannot even do the same for ourselves? The worst thing is the utter realization that we probably didn't like ourselves very much to begin with. The pain within becomes the pain without. From here, the enemy can forge an immensely strong camp in our lives. This is one of the reasons sin spoils us, ruins what should have been a lavish feast. It's like the crack in your windshield that starts out as a speck but spreads bigger and bigger the longer we leave it alone. Wait long enough and the entire thing will have to be replaced. Just remember that if He is big enough to forgive us, to wipe the slate clean, to give us a fresh start, to begin our life's book without the horrible chapters we wrote on our own, then who are we to not do the same for ourselves?

First and Seconds

I must admit, I have to laugh when I hear couples, usually very young ones, telling each other that they need nothing else but the other person's love in all the world to survive. There will come a day, no matter how hopelessly in love they are, where one will want something more . . . more than the partner can ever give. It is at this point that they will do one of two things- either turn to God and place Him first, or try to find the "newness", the novelty, the excitement, with someone else (only to have the same troubles revisited again and again). The first problem in this little puzzle is that we have started out wrong. We have put a "person", maybe a good person, maybe even a kind and thoughtful person, but no matter- we have put them ahead of God. The tree will grow only so tall without water. Without sun it might not grow at all. Newness, or conversations, walks in the park, or intimacies may carry you (for a time, that is). This can only last so long before the real love must begin. The excitement of a new job had better not be the thing that keeps you showing up every morning. A new home will seem not so thrilling in a year or two when there's yard work and the dishes are piling up. The point is, what initially got you there can’t keep you (not the same way, anyway). It was never intended to do so. A person might as well expect after eating a wonderful meal never again to feel hungry. "Though I was filled, I hungered still."

Decision Time

No matter what decision we have to make, it is important above all to make one. I suspect the Lord will have more understanding on those who made a wrong decision as to the ones who simply refused to even decide. When we choose, even wrongly (if it is sincerely chosen), we put ourselves out there to either be corrected (in which case we can then see what direction on the map to go now), or we reach the next level and move on to greater things. The worst thing we can do is to be too afraid of either choice, and sit back in our easy chairs waiting for life to make the decision for us. That is why He said " 'tis better to "be hot or cold than lukewarm". The hot can be cooled and the cold might be heated, but the lukewarm is thrown out altogether.

The Fresh Start

One day all things will be put right again. The lost love is reunited, forgotten youth shall be cast down among us, loved ones will triumphantly receive us back again - all things once lost will now be found. It will be time to start over-a new term, a new season. All new books (looking suspiciously like the old ones, but so much better and grander than before), new ideas, a new law . . .even a new heaven and a new earth. In this time all wrongs will pass away, and only Love will remain. On that day the past will seem like a distant battlefield, and we the warriors will settle in by the fire with our loved ones, realizing that each day after will be better than the one before, and that the thief called time has been put away in its' cell forever.

Fear

I have decided to live my life today without fear. It is fear that keeps a man from reaching his true potential - from flying too high, from taking a chance, from venturing to countries never seen (some never imagined). Fear can be a good emotion to protect us from harm, but it must never become a lifestyle, God forbid. It is a protector, a guarded fortress- but it may also become a prison. The secret is that this prison door is locked from the inside. I truly believe that if a person has love in their heart and a heart without fear, they can accomplish anything.

The Rescue

The problem of the modern world isn't so much the sin as it is an ignorance of sin altogether. How can a person be forgiven if they do not believe they have done anything wrong in the first place? This is a struggle, and it is probably man's worst condition. All other things can be dealt with: sinfulness, neglect, laziness, conceit- providing that the person deep down knows they are not "altogether right" or "could do so much better". A man who is drowning is in bad shape. A man who is drowning and believes he is actually on dry land is worse still.

The Tree with No Fruit

Beware of leaders who have no skeletons in their closet. The ones who cross every "T" and dot every "I", the ones who would never even consider being caught in adultery or in some scandal to bring in their political undoing. I fear these people most of all. The ones who are shady, those who are loud and boisterous and openly flawed are bad . . . but we can see them coming a mile away and know what they are capable of. They may even do what is right by us on occasion. But it is the flawless prince who, when left to his own devices, will know what is best for us all. None can discredit him, and many may stand in his defense, as we are neatly and tidily and flawlessly destroyed.

A Brand New Christmas

I cannot even fathom what lies beyond the Door, but I suspect that our best day here, the time when all was fresh and new, when your whole life was still spread out before you, the day of friends and promise, the time of new loves and daring dreams- this will seem so mundane and dull in comparison to that New Day when He lets us in. All newness, glory, fresh air, unspoiled goodness, the best still yet to come, pains as far as the east is from the west. And just to think that we probably got in not because of what we did, but in spite of it, making it all the more humbling and miraculous. Oh what a Day that will be! For now it is like being a child waiting for Christmas morning. How long it seems to be 'til it shall come.

Empty Pockets

We all have things that have been done to us in life, wrongs committed against us, people who have let us down, hurts unresolved (maybe even anger at ourselves) - whatever it was, it will have to be forgiven. There is no other way into His kingdom without it. This is one area where Christ left no room for interpretation. The worst thing done to you, the most terrible thing imagined, it has to be let go. There can't be one single grudge held onto, no matter how secretly concealed, no matter how much we think we must hold onto it, as we enter the Door. No matter how long we have carried it or how valuable it seems or (horror of horrors) how much a part of us it has become, it will have to be removed. We must, so to speak, empty our pockets of all this nonsense. Perhaps it is only by first emptying our pockets that we can ever hope to have them filled with the amazing, wonderful things He has stored up for us.

Spring Frost

I am amazed at how fresh the pain can still feel, unexpectedly, with no warning. Suddenly the day is relived all over again with the same intensity as the first time. Just when you think you are over it, that you are out of the woods, springtime has begun, there comes a fresh new frost you never planned for. The wound that was healed can, by one wrong move or action, be ripped open once again. How could it still be that painful? Of course, it's impossible to heal some injuries. A scar will always remain. Paper cuts leave no scars, war wounds always will. Does the man who lost his arm, even thirty years later, ever really heal?

Signed by the Original Author

My God, the clues of Him are everywhere. I see the five points of light emanating from a star, which look like the points of a leaf, that contain "veins" branching out like the limbs of a tree, which spread out like the capillaries and veins in my arm, arms that extend out much like those of one on a cross. The similarities that exist in nature are amazing. Of course, if you study an artist or a writer's work, you will find a certain style that flows through it every time. The man who can look daily at the interrelatedness of life and see only coincidences must surely be deluded. We may only see a small corner of the painting, but rest assured, where there is a painting there is also an artist.

The Clue

It was written in our hearts before time began that we should worship Him. The fact that we always turn to something else is proof of this. Even those who claim not to believe in Him will worship something- the environment, a political movement, a denomination, animals - even sports or music. All of us, no matter how lost or unreligious, have something that we would truly die for - the One most important thing. This may be the main clue implanted in us that we were made for another world. It's like the adopted girl who (unknown to her) came from a family of fishermen. She never could understand her own fascination with the sea.

The Easy Chair

How dim of us to cling so tightly to this life, which is temporary and fleeting. It reminds me of the man who was so comfortable and content in prison that he refused to be released into society, into the “real world” where there was the possibility of love, of hope, of a future. We are more content in a gutter, when He hath prepared for us a mansion. I fear for some, maybe dangerously even for myself, hell is a “comfortable” place at first. Why risk the work and the danger of heaven? God save us from our easy chairs that surely contain our chains.

Educational Philosophy Paper

It is often said that we come into the world as a blank slate, a novel yet to be written, a symphony not yet conducted. If this is true, then it is our teachers who are the writers, the philosophers, the conductors of our lives from the very beginning. My education began in a very small elementary school in Douglasville, Georgia in 1978. It was a public school and we had just moved into town that fall. When I came into that first grade classroom to meet my teacher, Ms. Townsend, I remember feeling that I was somewhere very special.
Ms. Townsend was an older woman who made everyone in her class feel important. I got the feeling she had been teaching for a long time, loved her students, and would do whatever it took to get them to learn. When she divided us up into reading groups, Ms. Townsend did something that I will never forget. She let each child illustrate the stories that we read on our own, allowing us to use our imagination. It was really thrilling feeling like I had a hand in drawing the pictures that went with the latest book or story we were reading. It made me far more interested in stories, in writing, and got me to enjoy school. She always commented on how nice our pictures were and related them to the stories. Her teaching inspired creativity and fostered an interest in school that I have never forgotten. Another teacher that was inspiring and memorable was my third grade teacher, Mrs. Adams. She was in her last year of teaching and getting ready to retire, always saying that we were “her last great class”. Mrs. Adams encouraged all of us to write stories each day, which thrilled me as I have always loved to write. One day after reading a science fiction story I had turned in, she got the whole class to act it out like a play, with intermissions and everything. She was a great, inspiring teacher who used creativity daily and went far beyond a dull classroom routine.
It was in fourth grade that my teacher, Mrs. Watson, introduced me to C.S. Lewis’ “The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe”. Every afternoon, after we had finished our school work, she would pull out this book and read to us. I remember sitting fixated each day, my mind picturing all the words she was reading from that great story. I think all the students in class looked forward to those afternoons when we could find out what happened in “the next chapter”. I remember the rest of us wanting to read more good books after that, even getting our parents to go out and buy trilogies and novels. It opened up another world to me and it was about that time that I first thought about becoming a teacher. How wonderful it would be to guide young minds the way Mrs. Watson had. Though I didn’t realize it at the time, Mrs. Watson was getting us interested in books, in reading, and in using our imaginations. Out of all the lessons, the math problems, the exercises we did in her classroom, the thing that taught me the most that year was those afternoon readings.
In contrast to the exciting experiences of my elementary years, middle school was, for the most part, examples of how not to teach. In the sixth grade I had a number of teachers whose names I do not remember, and classrooms that were quite depressing. I went from a school with windows to “pods” with no windows, no real walls, and teachers who seemed interested in only giving tests and lecturing constantly. To make matters worse, we were now all confined to claustrophobic “rows” of desks, where you could barely come to the front of the room without stepping on other students’ book bags. I remember one teacher in particular made each of us stand up to explain to the class why we got such a negative grade on a test and how we would do it better next time. This was a humiliating way of handling this, particularly when kids are at an awkward age and concerned about how the world sees them. Though I’m sure some of my memories are clouded by the despair of saying goodbye to childhood, I can't help but look back in amazement that I remember not one of those teachers’ names. We remember the ones who touched our hearts and inspired our souls, all the others are simply window dressing.It was an amazing contrast, however, and one that left me realizing that there must have been better ways to set up and run a classroom.

All of these experiences have made me treasure those years of elementary school. This is the main reason I want to teach. I want to inspire creativity in young people and show them the joys I had in school. I believe that if children have a teacher that they know cares about them, they can be taught anything. If we do come into the world as a “blank slate”, it is up to those of us who have learned well to teach others just as well. Children deserve at least this much. Teachers pass this down to their students, improving a bit as they go of course, but always taking into account the point of view of the students in the classroom. Anyone can stand in front of a dimly lit room with no windows and lecture to unchangeable rows, but the one who gets those children involved in the learning process and creates a spark can do an amazing thing: they can perform magic.
The main goal I want to accomplish as a teacher is to create a sense of wonder in children. If a teacher can make a student want to reach further, to read more, to write more, to do well in school and look forward to the experience of actually going into the classroom each day, that teacher has excelled. This is not an easy task, but it can be done. The ideal is a classroom that respects each student as individuals, but is also able to bring them in as a group to want to learn more. It exists in the child who doesn’t know how to read, but loves to draw pictures. It flourishes in the students who write stories and act them out in front of the class, not realizing they’ve passed an English lesson. It resonates in the kids who sit quietly listening to a teacher who took time daily out of her busy schedule to read to them and interest them in books. Of course, it doesn’t stop there. It finally accomplishes itself when, years later, when much has been forgotten and changed, when the world is a very different place, that the child returns as a man with the same book of stories and an infinite span of time to read them.

Observations at an Elementary School

I recently had the opportunity to observe the After School Program (ASP) at Villa Rica Elementary School. My observations took place over five days in which I was with 4th grade teacher Mrs. Houser and her ASP students. The children ranged in age from 3rd to 5th grades and were students whose parents worked too late to be able to pick them up from school at 2:30. ASP is an affordable option for these parents who have the added advantage of teachers on hand to help the children with homework, provide learning activities for them, and who cultivate a very positive influence through tutoring programs as well. My first day at Villa Rica Elementary was a rewarding one, and I noted right at once that this was an older school with a history about it. The halls smelled like old books, which was an added benefit. It reminded me of my elementary school and brought back a flood of memories. To check in at the office, I had to sign in at a computer which took my picture and then printed off a Visitor name tag. The office staff was very helpful and friendly, introducing themselves and guiding me to Mr. Kevin Miller’s classroom. Mr. Miller is a 3rd grade teacher and the head of the ASP program. I found his class very busy with younger children ranging in age from kindergarten to 2nd grade, all of whom were in groups working on different things. Some of the kids had their homework out, others were on the computers doing math games, a few were in the corner using the wood blocks to build things, and still others were watching an educational program on the classroom monitor. The desks in his class were arranged in a large semi circle, about twenty in all. I noticed he had a reading area in the far back corner with a small lamp and space posters covering that side of the wall. The area also had a large rocking chair with pillows for classroom reading time. This seemed like a very nicely arranged corner that I would someday enjoy having in my own classroom. The computers lined the immediate wall on the left as I walked in, and I witnessed several parents sign their children out using a unique number typed into the main computer.
I arrived just as they were getting an afternoon snack, consisting of cereal, milk and juice. Mr. Miller explained to me that today had been a crazy day and he had many more ASP students than usual. Introducing me to one of the school’s Para-pro staff, he asked this young woman to take me to Mrs. Houser’s room to observe and help out. She guided me down a hall and out across an open air walkway to another building. Along the way I noted many drawings of past presidents, including a very large pencil drawing of President Obama. The drawings were all very well done and there were short reports taped to walls outside of many of the empty classrooms that had been graded. We reached Mrs. Houser’s 4th grade classroom where a number of teachers were gathered around talking. Posters lined her walls, consisting of such things as “Famous Authors: Past and Present”, “Math Can Be Fun” the standard ABC’s running along the top half of the wall, Book Report Schedules, Rules for the Road, and other classroom topics. The rows of desks were primarily two desks each facing each other throughout the room, separated by a single row, and a single desk off close to the teacher’s that was a “Time Out” station. The opposite wall had 3 computers that the students would periodically go to for math problems and math games. In the corner was a large TV that displayed school announcements and winners of certain contests for that particular week. After introducing myself to Mrs. Houser and the other teachers, I set my notebook down and walked slowly around the classroom. The students each had different homework assignments they were working on, as in Mr. Miller’s room, and many were sitting quietly reading books. There was a great deal of diversity in the classroom, many students were African American, Mexican, Indian, and white. Over the rest of the day, I noted how well they all got along. They interacted with each other very freely and there was little note of race taken at all among the children. So many adults could take a lesson from what I observed in that classroom!
After the other teachers left, Mrs. Houser came over and went over much of the classroom routine for ASP with me. She explained that on certain days, the students would go to the Computer Lab down the hall at 4:00 and work on various games, mainly involving math. Other days, depending on the weather, they could go outside to the playground for an hour or so. She showed me how she records grades on the computer in excel and how they are submitted. During this time, the Teacher’s aide made sure to keep the kids on task with their homework and answered any questions they might have had. Periodically, Mr. Miller would call on the school walkee-radio, requesting which student needed to come to the front to be checked out.
The Para-pro left at 4:00 and from then on I proceeded to help the students, slowly getting to know their names. They were all very anxious to show me what they were working on and what books they were reading, asking if I had ever read any of them. One young boy named Thomas, who was sitting in the Time Out chair, lifted his book up in the air to show it to me. It was called “Trials of a Nerdy Kid” and he proceeded to show me all of the pictures in it that made him laugh. He asked me the meaning of several words in the book, one of which was describing a cat’s “papillae” on its’ tongue. I explained that those were the things on a cat’s tongue that allow it to lick up milk or water when thirsty. Mrs. Houser had to continually remind the students that there needed to be less talking and more studying and homework being done. She asked one young girl if she needed to call her mother, to which the girl immediately turned around and resumed her studies. Mrs. Houser informed me, “that is the advantage of being at a smaller school, you have a much closer relationship with the parents and more parental involvement. The kids know you’re not afraid to call mom or dad at any moment.” I immediately thought what a different world classrooms would be if more parents were involved and communicated with teachers in this way. It would be amazing the learning and openness that could take place.

At around 4:15 the class lined up and went over to the Computer Lab. Mrs. Houser divided up the girls on one side and the boys on the other. The majority of the students went to a website called CoolMath4Kids.com, which I noted had a variety of mathematics games and activities for students in early and upper elementary grades. The computers were all along the wall throughout the room and there were a set of unused computers and desks in the center of the room. Mrs. Houser got on one of the terminals and began going through some graded activities. I walked around to the different students’ computers and observed how adept and fast they all were. It’s amazing how second nature things like the internet are when it has been around since the day you were born. It came to me how different my school days were in the late 70s and 80s when computers were almost unheard of in a classroom. There was very little talking in the lab as the majority of the students were very involved in their games. It was a rarity that a question was asked, although Mrs. Houser did have to scold Thomas for going to an unapproved game site that had no educational value. He went back to another game on CoolMath4Kids before being called soon after for check out.

On my second day of observation, I came back to Mrs. Houser’s room. It was a very hot day and all of the students wanted to go outside and play. She informed them that they needed to get more of the homework completed before 4:00 and then they could go to the playground. I noticed one very tall boy with glasses whom I hadn’t seen the day before. Mrs. Houser explained to me that this was Christopher who was mildly autistic. As part of inclusion, he was in her ASP a few times a week. Christopher was a very well behaved 5th grade boy, but at times he was quiet and isolated. While doing his homework, I noticed he was singing a song from one of the “Madagascar” cartoon movies under his breath. He showed me how far he had gotten in his latest novel that he was reading. For the most part, the students seemed very comfortable around Christopher, although one girl kept complaining to Mrs. Houser that he was “staring at her” too much. Mrs. Houser told her not to worry about it and to focus on her own work. I found him to be a delightful boy who added much to the class routine. What a dull world it would be if rainbows were all one color, I thought silently to myself.

Since the teacher’s aide wasn’t there that day, I got to do a little more with the kids, which I really enjoyed. Four of them were in the corner playing a classroom card game with oversized cards called “Slap Seven”, which I had never heard of before. A young boy named Emanuel asked me to sit down and told me he would teach me how to play if I was interested. Mrs. Houser smiled over at me and shrugged, “he’s never offered to teach me how to play, you should feel honored.” I sat down on the carpet and he went over all of the rules as the other kids listened and some giggled. It was fun using the oversize cards and he informed me that I was “a fast learner”. We probably played for about fifteen minutes and then Mrs. Houser announced they would be able to go out on the playground for a while. Needless to say, Slap Seven quickly became a distant memory for these students as they lined up for the triumphal trek outdoors.
Emanuel told me I could be his partner in kickball if I wanted. I believe that I had made a friend that day. What a responsibility and a life changing opportunity teaching can be! I thought to myself that a teacher might be this child’s last hope on earth before the negative influences come in middle and high school and change him forever. For now, at least, he had a chance to learn and grow and see that there were people who cared about him. One story among hundreds teachers will encounter, I have no doubt.
I observed on the playground that most of the students played with one another with no rhyme or reason, although girls tended to stick together more. The great unifier, the swing set, always contained a diverse number of students swinging as if they could touch the sky if only they went high enough. Young Christopher walked along the outskirts of the playground with his jump rope, swinging it around like a bull whip and occasionally speaking to the others. He passed me and asked if I had seen the new Indiana Jones movie. He explained that he is now Indiana Jones and the rope was his whip. Funny, I remember thinking the same thing around 4th grade after seeing Raiders of The Lost Ark so long ago. Sitting with Mrs. Houser, she said that they have to watch Christopher because he has wandered off a few times from the playground. She always keeps a watchful eye on him. I joined some of the kids for kickball and explained how much I use to love the game when I was their age. One girl said, “was that a hundred years ago?” I smiled, “pretty much”.
I was amazed at how many different types of children one comes into contact with as a teacher in such a short amount of time; all precious, all angels of God, and each one who touches your life in a way that you would never have expected. The inclusion aspect was an area that, I must admit, gave me pause at first. I didn’t think that as a new teacher I would be able to handle students with autism, with disabilities . . . I feared they would be a distraction to teaching in the classroom. As is typical of preconceived notions, it was quickly proven wrong. It was, in fact, the “special” students who I found the most joy from, who I learned the most from and found the easiest to help and communicate with. They added to the class something it could never have gained without them. The students were better off for having interacted with them and as teachers, we were strengthened in our chosen profession in ways words could never express.
It was also a great learning experience to see how teachers set up their rooms to best benefit learning and exposure to others. Desks were not in boring, limited rows, but were in fact grouped together to accentuate interaction and teamwork. There was a wonderfully diverse group of students, all learning from each other. African americans, whites, american Indian, spanish-all were interacting in ways that I found thought provoking and inspiring. I liked the makeup of this school because there was a mixture of all races, as well as special needs students, exposing the children to the real world that surrounds them. Later in life, it will not be unusual for them to be around different types of people, nor will they feel threatened by them. They shall be, I pray, a far more enlightened group than we have seen in the past. Classroom decorations were also well done and gave me ideas that I would like to take to my own class someday. The use of posters in some areas, such as the reading area in Mr. Miller’s room, were adventurous and lively. In other areas, they were more centered on classroom activities for that day, such as a “Today’s To Do List” in Mrs. Houser’s room that was visible immediately as the children first came into the room. Computers were off to the side and were a privilege to those students who had already finished their regular work. Most of the computer games were math oriented, but students saw these as a treat and rarely took notice that as they “played” the games they were, in point of fact, “learning”.
One aspect I was surprised about was discipline. It was necessary one day, when I was alone with the students, to raise my voice for them to sit down. Emanuel came over and said, “Mr. Russell, sometimes you have to yell at them to get them to listen to you.” It was true. It wasn’t really yelling, just speaking with a stern voice and allowing yourself to be heard. They did respond, and I believe, respected me more after that. I’m always one who wants to get along with all of the kids, but this cannot happen without discipline. The greatest love is not necessarily to always be liked, but to always make sure they are on the right track. It’s not always the easiest path, but it is the only one that will mean anything in the end.
The After School program made certain that the students stayed on task with their homework and that help was always available. Many times I witnessed Mrs. Houser or Mr. Miller guiding a student through his homework assignment, something that the student would have been left alone with had he been at home. For this reason, I see the ASP as a resounding success. There was support, encouragement and a caring attitude among the teachers for the children entrusted to them for those few hours after school. It was also an opportunity for the teachers to get to know their students on a slightly more personal level. During the regular school day, it is rare when a teacher can have a one on one conversation or lesson with a student in class. After school , however, it’s possible to concentrate on just a few students at a time, to identify weaknesses one might never have seen during the hectic regular hours. There can also be a rapport built with children that will transfer over to a more behaved classroom the next day. If a child sees that a teacher is a real person that cares about them and goes above and beyond for their welfare, they are much more likely to perform well for the teacher and go on to great things. There were so many positive aspects to the ASP that I would encourage all schools to adopt them and make them more affordable to all parents. The program can literally perform wonders with some children, and possibly give them an innumerably better tomorrow.

Losses and Gains

The really dangerous thing we can do is to rely too much on the things of this world. In the end, it will all be taken away. To make anything, or anyone for that matter, a safety net is to set one’s self up for disappointment. All our talents, all the people we care about and rely on, anything at any moment can be taken away. It is at this moment that we see the Lord most clearly. It is only in Him that we can put any trust. Only He will never leave us, never desert us. Make no mistake, it isn’t that God WANTS us to lose all the things here we value. It is a fact that we WILL lose them. They are, at least in this life, temporary gifts along the way. The only permanent gift is Him. Now here’s the most interesting and wonderful thing. Place God first, and all the temporary gifts here become even more valuable, more dear to us, and more appreciated (and - perhaps one day- these temporary gifts might even become permanent ones, but that is in another life, in a far more beautiful story that has yet to be written).

This Old House

The more I begin to try and follow the teachings of Christ, the clearer I witnesswhat an absolute daily horror my inner self truly is- selfish, demanding, attention-getting, boastful, lazy, judgemental, double-minded, prideful, greedy, quick toanger, cowardly, impatient, unkind, suspicious, uncharitable- it seems unbearable to think that I have always been these things (and even continue to be now). I do find in myself an embarrassment at behavior that before would have gone unnoticed. Friends or loved ones ask for my assistance which they most richly deserve, andimmediately I sense the feeling of "MY time is too valuable for this", or "This is just TOO much to ask of me right now. Don't they realize my time is my own?"It is like a man who thought his house was perfectly built and better than most- One day with a flashlight he goes about checking the basement and finds nothingbut rotten wood, leaky pipes, holes in the floorboards, overrunning with rats and roaches, a complete eyesoar that is basically ready to collapse at any minute. How much better he felt before he had seen all this! Of course, now the real work can begin. Some find the problems early and begin to rebuild; others probably discover these things a bit too late to salvage much of it. If we do try our best, no matter how little time may be left, we might manage to get much more done to our homes than we could have ever imagined. Of course, we'll always have help. The one thing we must never do is to shut the flashlight off, climb the stairs to our den, close the door and forget what we saw. Sooner or later we will have to call a Carpenter.

The Illusion of Time

The enemy is a very crafty being. He at one point tells us, "Worship God all you want, pray to Him as often as you need, talk with the Master often" . . . but then he adds to this, whispering: "just do it in your private time, when nothing else is going on." And of course, this is the great trick. He then makes absolutely certain that you have no free time at all- there is the telephone, the cell phone, the car radio, the ipod, the internet, the television, 24 hour news, 24 hour grocery stores, errands to run, bills to pay, shopping to do, movies to see, pets to feed . . . basically, he has made absolutely certain that every moment of every day you are completely and totally occupied. Remember: place God first and "all things shall be added unto you." Place Him second and it won't matter what you have put ahead of Him.

A New Day

The Lord is so merciful in his treatment of us that we seldom realize just how many 'second chances' He has given. Just when we think our life is over, that all the decisions have been made, that we are forced to forever live with the horrible, immature paths we chose in our youth, He does something quite remarkable: He gives us a New Day. I will forever be in His debt if for no other reason than Iwas given a reprieve from a jail sentence I most richly deserved.

God in the Dangerous Places

If you look for God, don't bother seeking Him in the comfortable, the satisfied, the safe places. He resides in areas you would dare not go - in misery, in sadness, in loss of hope, poverty, sickness, even death -travel into these countries and you will feel His presence. Of course, most of us will do everything in our power to avoid these places. We will venture hundreds, even thousands of miles out of our way to stay clear of them. When, however, there is no other way-when we lose our comforts, when we are no longer satisfied, when the safe places have melted away and all hope is lost, suddenly we find we have a fellow traveler in Him. You see, He has traveled this lonely road as well. In fact, He walked it first. We might find it an honor that He actually finds us worthy enough to occasionally experience it for ourselves.

Returning Home

I have always felt that reuniting with our loved ones in heaven is much akin to being a recruit stationed away at boot camp and returning home months later. What seemed like an extremely long time away wasn’t really that long at all. All the waiting and training and rules become backdrop, mere window dressing. There has never been such an exhilaration as the day you’re finally out, heading home, back to civilization, freedom, things you took for granted. Your heart literally skips a beat at leaving for home - you are returning to Real Life, to familiarity and good will. I will forever believe that when we enter heaven’s gates and cross to the other side there will be such rejoicing and excitement that our time spent here will seem incredibly short. We will, I suspect, even have a flutter of nostalgia for what happened in this life. The worst times here will be a topic of dinner conversation with our loved ones there, replete with grins and remembrances by a roaring fire. Soldiers will always be able to find fond memories of their battles once the war is won

The Handicap

One never knows how useful his arm is until it is cut off. Then we think of all the things that might have been done with it. We go on without it, successfully sometimes. Occasionally we over-compensate and actually do things with one arm we’d never dreamed of doing when we had both. No matter how much better we do, however, there’s nothing we wouldn’t give to have that arm back again. Who knows better than Him what it is to lose all.

Talents and Other Blessings

In the end, all of our talents, all of our “good traits”, all of our accomplishments that we think we have mastered ultimately belong to Him. If we plant our flag and claim these to be “ours”, then we have truly lost them. They are but on loan to us from the great Master. Some are blessed with intelligence and quick wit, some with artistic ability, others with a gift of ministry. Whatever it is that we truly do well (or have better than others) - it cannot be claimed as our own. Only when we give Him the glory for these gifts do they remotely begin to belong to us. I suspect that when we finally come before the Lord, the things that we think were such unique talents or gifts of ours were merely the result of circumstances, timing, good fortune or other factors. Try and market them as your own and you become the Great Plagiarist, of which I have recently found myself guilty. Whatever gifts we may have, we must assume they are from Him. We are only a vessel He hath chosen to display them in. It is at this point, more than any other, that our talents come the closest to belonging to us.

The Trip Too Soon (for my father, Rod Russell)

Your Trip Began too Soon
You left before I could say goodbye
There was no time to explain just why-
A thousand talks that seemed mundane,
A thousand walks could not explain
Your trip began too soon.
Did you know the time had come,
Was it clear to you it was now all done?
For me it was like the perfect day that ended just at noon
Your trip began too soon.
The days go on and no phone call
Did you know that now it’s nearly Fall?
Your trip began too soon.

Forgiveness

There can be nothing that is not forgiven. The worst thing that was ever done to you, the truly unforgivable thing- that is what He requires us to forgive. This is not easy and it takes some work. Keep in mind that “forgiveness” is not “excusing” someone. It means looking squarely at the most horrible thing, the MOST inexcusable, the truly worst sin committed against you, and gently whispering “I forgive”. We must do this because He has looked at our sins - the worst ones, the ones we know we could never mention or bring to him in the light- the unpardonable, inexcusable ones- and He has forgiven them.

Death's Untimely Sting

Do not believe anyone who says that death does not matter. They are either a fool, naïve, or at worst a liar. Death does matter and it is very real. Even our Lord was not immune to the fear of it (remember Gesthemene?). Whatever comes after, and there is much good and triumph that comes after death, we should never be so callous to say that “to die is nothing.” If it were nothing, He would not have done it for us.

Pride

C.S. Lewis had it right when he wrote that, of all the sins, Pride is the most deadly. It is always on the outskirts of what we do, lurking in the shadows. Do a good deed and see how quickly it comes up, whispering "I really am good for doing that" or "I'm so much better than so-and-so." We must always be on our guard against this one, for it is like the wolf in sheep's clothing. All other sins, as bad as they may be, are seen for what they are. This will lead you over time to think that you are your own god. If allowed to run its' course, it will destroy our very spiritual life from the inside out.

On Pain

It's never the big things that give you the most pain after the death of a loved one. It is the smaller, more intimate pains that sting worst of all. Simple things shared only with that one special soul. The pain is not so much an enormous wound as it is a thousand tiny cuts, each sliced at times when you would least expect it. This is probably how it was intended to be. God gives us just so much that our minds and hearts can handle, then the pain subsides . . . until the next wave. I believe these pains heal our hearts even as it seems to be breaking them. Only He knows for certain.

Pets

If our pets have no soul, then they come closer to mimicking one than any animals I have ever known. I see daily the resemblances of God in these simple, obedient creatures. Loving us when we are unlovable, forgiving us in spite of ourselves, and always demanding our attention- particularly at times when we LEAST want to give it. Perhaps they are only little gifts along the way, loyal followers on our journey to the Real Country, whispering gently to us from the Master- “I have not left ye alone.”

Opportunities

It’s a strange feeling being led to something, to finally feel you are definitely on the right track and that paths are being cleared for you. The gates are coming down, the weeds once concealing the way for so many years are being knocked away and you are finally on the move. Yet it is frightening. Surely being outside the gates is safer, being off the path and unnoticed means no failure . . . for there you have failed already, all that’s left there is comfortable despair. Not much is expected of you. Once successful, or on the road to success, a man can finally be in the great danger of true disappointment. A newly released prisoner, upon reentering the real world, may surely have a momentary urge to run back to the safety of his cell. So many years and so many excuses now forever to be left behind. But oh, glory to God, what an opportunity!

Shadows on the Wall

It is the wise man who knows that all the truly good things- the remarkable things, the moments that made you catch your breath, the joyous days of youth and excitement- these were only shadows of Him and the Life to come. Endeavor to relive a great moment in your life and you will make yourself miserable. Attempt to recapture the past and it will leave you wanting. Try to be young and you will feel VERY old indeed. Pity the man who forever lives in the past and remembers "the good old days". This person will never be happy as long as they are believing that what was good is now lost, that somewhere hidden away in the past is a precious jewel called "happiness" or "contentment" or "joy". Anything that was truly good or meaningful was only so because it contained an element or a shadow of Him. Nothing that we have ever valued in this life was ever great or joyous APART from the Lord. He has either been in the moment or feeling, or there has been some part of it that spoke to our very soul even before we understood what the true joy was. May we never again see the shadow of a tree on the wall and think, "I have seen a tree."

The Great Library

The problem with death is the utter finality of it (at least on this side). All seems the same but the PERSON is no longer here. Vacancy, empty spaces, quiet hallways that once bustled with activity, a silent phone . . . These are the things that are the most difficult to deal with. There are signs of him everywhere, but no him. It’s like having a few remaining pages left of your favorite book that has been lost. The pages that remain are nice as a reminder, but in another sense it’s almost worse to have them at all. They remind you of what is NOT here. No use reading two pages when you’d rather have all 233. This is one of the reasons I often shudder when someone says, “He’ll live on in your memories”. I pray he’ll live on in a far better, more complete place than that. One day all of our books will be returned to us, only restored and better than we ever knew them. God’s great library of forgotten souls.

The Last Dishonor

Nothing stings like death. Nothing seems to take so much away and leave so little behind as this utter travesty. It is clear we were not made for it. No other animal but Man seems so affected by the loss yet so able to deal with it in all its horrible, uncompromising terms. It is, however, the enemy's final bow on the stage- it is the last smudge on a garment made to be as clean and white as snow. It is an unrepentant being's last battle plan, thinking he has burned the field to the ground, turning in unholy horror to the lush forest that has been growing behind his back the entire time.

Miles Away

There is little more disheartening in life than realizing how many opportunities I squandered, determined to go my own way- to resoundingly slam doors He graciously opened for me over the years so many times. He asked me to travel the shaded path, the one with trees and streams, with green grass and hopeful dreams, but instead I chose the desert; the dry, humid, hard, lonely path of my own way. It's a mighty long walk, longer still knowing He had a better route that was rejected time and again. Of course, the Great Blessing is that even in this desert, on this trail of my own miserable choosing, I now see road signs- blurry at first, but clearer the more I take note of them. The signs are pointing me up and out- perhaps to a path rejected so many times- the one I neglected because I knew better; the one I walked past because I knew an easier way. It may be a million miles back to where I turned wrong, but who knows- He just may provide a shortcut.

Eternally Young

The thinking that youth has passed away is a notion you will only feel here. Take great care not to give it too much credence. Our bodies grow older, but it's just possible that our spirits are in fact getting younger all the time. This isn't quite so far-fetched as it sounds. We have seen examples of people "mellowing with age", becoming "more open-minded", doing things and taking chances they never would have done in their teens or twenties even. The playground is appreciated more in adulthood than as a child. One day we shall sit at His feet and listen to stories, just as we did in younger days. The only difference is that the stories of adventure and wonder and greatness will not belong to an imaginary character. They will be our own.

A Play in Two Acts

I daily see the prison that is time, marveling at how quickly it is winding down and away. To stop it is impossible, to slow it only a grand dream. Who are we that we are able to stand and watch the minutes on the clock tick away, wishing only for it to pause a few moments to catch our breath? What other animal does this but man, I wonder. At times it is more than I can bear, for I know that each tick means an hour closer to those we cherish being snatched away- leaving the play early while we sit through another act without them. Perhaps it is a dream that only I have pondered. Of course, we are in good hands and it shall all turn out fine, of this I’m certain. The clockmaker and the play’s author are one and the same. One day we will gather our coats and leave the theatre, stepping out into the street ourselves. Only then will real life begin.

Longing

What we want is to last forever. All the things we jump for- drugs, youthfulness, style, fashion, popularity, wealth, power, status- even sometimes relationships, are figureheads for something else. The closer you look at all of these things, the more you’ll see that there is something behind all of them that you want so much more; something you crave in earnest- so much you may even give your life for it. The longing to be remembered fondly, to last completely forever only better and be so much more than you are now- to literally become total perfection. What most of us forget, myself included, is that He wants all these things for us as well. They are inside of us because He has placed the desire in us, just as He has placed hunger for food, for companionship, for shelter. Where we have it wrong is that we think we can find it all here. We are searching for food in an art gallery, looking for great paintings in the supermarket. All the facelifts, every drug manufactured, each new clothing line- all the money and success in the world will never be enough to satisfy this craving. We shall find in the end only an empty disappointment with it all. Like the man who sailed across the world to an island he had heard about all his life, the end result is somehow a letdown. Not to worry, we were made for much greater lands than these. The wooden prison walls enclosing us have a pinhole with the smallest bit of light shining through. It’s a small clue, to be sure, but it does tell me that the walls are not solid. There’s something outside, something just for us. What is beyond is real life, the real life we have longed for, that we would even die for.

The Next Lesson

It has been said that God is easily pleased, but difficult to satisfy. This became apparent to me today in class watching a video on 'how children learn in Pre-K'. I watched as the children learned to do basic tasks such as putting puzzles together, writing simple words, even working together. The teacher marveled at all of their accomplishments, applauding and then quietly moving them on to something new. It came to me that this is just what God does with us. He is so infinitely pleased by steps that are, by any standards under heaven, probably elementary and very basic. We learn to trust Him, we learn to forgive, we do some small kindness we might not have done before, and it is as if we have conquered the world to Him . . . but then it is on to the harder stuff. It would be tragedy to be applauded day in and day out for doing simple addition. He wants us to one day know physics. Spelling cat will lead to reading Shakespeare. We were not made to sit back into an easy-chair with our accomplishments (heaven knows there'll be plenty of time for that). In the same moment He is filling us with praise for learning, the next lesson has already begun.

The Answer Sheet

The great terror is that we are all here by chance, that our numbered breaths are wholly inconsequential and that in the end it will all be meaningless and forgotten. The humanists and the evolutionists, at least the ones who do not believe in God, speak so matter-of-factly about this as if it is of no real concern to them at all. They talk of “man needing a god and creating Him”, of a big bang and the fact that we are all just an accident of fate, a spark on an otherwise unremarkable fire, one that will eventually be winding down and away perfectly naturally, never to be remembered again. They remark about this coolly and calmly, as if they were an outsider to the whole thing. If they are right, if I ever decided to believe such a thing completely, though I doubt I ever could, the last thing I can think of feeling is blind indifference. It would be the saddest, most incomplete, most heartbreakingly hopeless feeling I could ever imagine. Perhaps I am in the wrong, and if I am, then the only regretful fate awaiting me is that I shall never know. If I am correct, then every answer to every question ever asked and never asked shall be answered. At long last the Great Professor’s answer sheet will be given out, and all our wrong answers, as earnestly as we did give them, may even be able to be corrected.

Other Stories

I think sometimes we judge God too harshly without having all of the facts. Much of the time, it could be that we are attributing things to Him that He had nothing to do with, or we are only seeing the end result of a situation that was based on horrible decisions made many, many years ago. Think of it like this: If we read one book we might decide that a character in the story had a pretty rough time of it, and that he was misunderstood and was being treated unfairly. Surely those persecuting him are villains. It could be that we are correct GIVEN everything we know from that one story. But suppose there were thousands of other books written about that character before the one we read? So much missing information, so many wrong turns, so many things we have no idea about. If only we knew of all of these things we would see why the things were happening the way they were. We might even come to the conclusion that the man brought the troubles upon himself. The point is, we know so very little about the back story. I suspect this is why so many times we MUST just have faith. We are given the soft “no”- “not now . . . you do not understand”. There are a million and one stories behind the things we are questioning, and one day He will turn us loose into the library to read them. And then, finally, completely, righteously, we shall all understand.