Irrevocable

They say that in moments of peril your life flashes before your eyes.  For me, the opposite was true. In the seconds before a head-on collision that could’ve easily claimed my life, I didn’t reflect on my past, but my future. As I topped a hill and found myself speeding toward not two--but four-- headlights on a dark and rainy night, I thought, this is how people die. Honestly, in those fleeting seconds before impact, my heart called out for Jesus and I envisioned Him welcoming me to heaven.

Instead, seconds later, I found myself seriously injured, impossibly trapped and eerily alone in the driver’s seat of my Ford Explorer. I had been on the phone with my husband, but sensed we had lost connection as I cried out, “Call 911! I’ve been in a bad wreck… really bad.” That feeling of helplessness and isolation led me to again call out to God, this time audibly. I whispered, “God, I want to survive this and if I can, give me the strength I'll need. If not, I know I’ll be with you.” 

A peace immediately fell upon me. I knew no matter what happened next, the Holy Spirit would carry me through. I’m a person of deep faith, but I’m no saint.  I question, I doubt, I falter, I stray. But when I was a little girl, I accepted the gift of salvation, and that gift is irrevocable. That’s never been as clear to me as it was that night… over an hour trapped in that SUV and the agonizing hours that followed, and never did I panic. When it came down to it, there was nothing to fear.  

To revoke means to take back.  My niece turned one last month, and that girl loves to eat. Often, as she snacks, she’ll offer one of us a morsel, but as soon as we reach for it, she takes it back. She likes the idea of offering it, likes to see us smile and reach for it, but when it comes down to it, she keeps her precious snack.  Surely, she thinks, we couldn’t possibly enjoy it as much as she will.

How thankful we should be that when God reached down His hand to Earth and offered us His Son, He didn’t take it back. Even when we overlook, misunderstand, and persecute the gift, He doesn’t take it back. Jesus was and still is offered to all of us, irrevocably. To have Jesus means to have peace that passes all understanding. Nothing and no one can take that away.

Not only are His gifts irrevocable, so is His calling. Too often I haven’t lived this truth in the day to day. More than I like to admit, I’ve questioned my purpose and doubted God’s plan.  Did He really call me to be this man’s wife if I can’t bear his children? (I falter…) Am I making a big enough difference in this world if we don’t adopt a child of our own? (I stray…) 

And then He sets my feet back on the path in the most unexpected and painful of ways. But even in the shock and the hurt, there is purpose.  Yes, that man who rushed to your side and never left... you are meant to be his.  And all those others in your life... family, friends, students, youth group, church family... they need you. This is your calling. Wife. Teacher. Leader. Sister. Aunt. Daughter. Friend. Each is irrevocable.  

Perhaps your holiday season hasn’t been as dramatic as mine, but God’s love for you is no less strong. He has offered you His Son, and He has called you to a life that is pleasing to Him and uplifting to others. Even when you falter, even when you stray… He won’t take it back.  The opposite of to revoke is to continue and that’s how it is with God’s love. When you’re hurt, when you’re stuck, when you’re alone, His love continues. From that baby in the manger until the darkest rainy night of today, it keeps on…  and for that I am most grateful.

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That Was Never For You

I’ve tried really hard to be a teacher blogger.  Once in a while I get it right but more often I miss my old blog where I just poured out my musings.  So, if you’ll indulge me, perhaps once in a while, I’ll pour out my musings here.  Starting now…

I love Easter almost as much as I hate Christmas.  It sounds conflicting, I know, but at the least it reassures me that I really do love Jesus. To me, Christmas is confusing and chaotic, much like it must have felt for those living out the nativity story.  But the Easter story, while painful in parts, is so much more… love, hope, and peace.  To me, Easter brings clarity. 

At our sunrise service today, I experienced clarity.  I’m not one to often claim God speaks to me directly, but this morning He did.  As I reflected on my faith and found myself asking Him yet again why my life doesn’t look quite like most thirty-somethings on Easter morning (or any morning for that matter), I clearly felt five words in my heart: “That was never for you.”

Jealousy is defined as, “an unhappy or angry feeling of wanting to have what someone else has.” Is there a more powerful emotion?  We see it in ourselves, we experience it our relationships, and we try in vain to teach it out of our kids.   I fight it every day in my classroom. “I raised my hand first.” “He cut in front of me in line.” Or more seriously: “She doesn’t want to play with me anymore.” “They never let me play football.”    And don’t even get me started on trying to play detective when petty objects or snacks get stolen out of desks, lunchboxes and bookbags.

 What is it deep inside that makes us always want what someone else has?

It’s so hard not to think this way—not to focus on what we don’t have instead of what we do have.  But Romans 8:11 says, “the Spirit of God who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you.” And I assure you His is not a jealous spirit in this way.  In fact, it’s the opposite—humble, sacrificial, and unselfish to a degree we can’t imagine.   We get so hung up thinking it’s all about us, especially in this social media driven world where pride and comparison reign constant.

More often than not the things we get so hung up on were never for us in the first place.  We aren’t missing out if it wasn’t in His plan.  We aren’t being punished and we don’t deserve better.  All we deserved was the punishment He took for us on the cross.  He did so in order to save us from eternal Hell and in the meantime from a life spent meaningless... 

 If there’s one thing I’m thankful for today and everyday, it’s that.

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Fake It 'til You Make It

Last night, I messaged with a parent on Class Dojo and I ended with “That’s my fault, not yours.” As I pressed send, I thought how it would have pained me to send that sentence a few years ago. I’ve become much better in owning up to my shortcomings in the classroom and in life.  I’ve told friends turning 30 isn’t something to be sad about—my thirties have been much better than my twenties thus far.  Finally being able to let go a little has been a major contributing factor.

Starting out in any career is hard.  There’s so much to learn and the only way to improve is to learn from your mistakes.  In teaching, it’s especially hard because each of those mistakes has the potential to wreak havoc on twenty-some little lives.  It’s a lot of pressure.  Most teachers are perfectionists and that’s a good thing—no one wants a slacker teaching their children.  But it makes for a very high stress level when you’re just starting out.

As humans and especially as women, we don’t like to admit our weakness.  I spent years on the defense in the classroom, pretending I knew what I was doing when really I didn’t have a clue.  I never would’ve admitted it—don’t we all leave college knowing it all?  Marriage is similar.  I used to pick an argument every time my husband pointed out an imperfection, no matter how right he was.  (Those ten years he has on me are the bane of my existence at times.) And speaking of being right, I definitely thought I knew it all when it came to my plan for my life versus God’s.  It took me years to talk openly about the fact that we have tried and failed at having children. 

I’m not suggesting that we all walk around talking about how lacking we are and how bad we have it.  I’m not sure it would go over too well if we advertised at Open House that we’d be making some mistakes in disciplining the students, running late grading papers at times, and mixing up the best order in which to teach things thanks to the ever changing curriculum.  By all means, I’m not advising you to admit to your spouse that they’re right!  😉 And sometimes I still question my decision to talk publicly about personal struggles. We’re women.  We’re teachers.  We’re going to fake it 'til we make it, because that’s what we do. 

What I am suggesting is that we don’t feel so guilty about the faking it and that sometimes, when the moment is right, we do admit- to parents, to our students, to our spouses, to our co-workers, family and friends- that we don’t have it all together.  Our honesty may be just the encouragement the new teacher down the hall needs in deciding she can stick it out for at least another year.  A little transparency with our students will teach them that it’s truly okay to make mistakes; actions speak louder than words.  That parent is going to be a lot more open to partnering with us if we admit we don’t have all the answers just like they don’t.  The people all around us want (and need) us to be real.  

Candor is perhaps my favorite quality in a person. 

Today my devotion featured just one Bible verse, 2 Corinthians 12:9:
“But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”  In other words, we might as well keep on faking it.  We never had the power to make it on our own anyway.   But, thank goodness, His grace is sufficient and because of Him, we can relax and admit we don’t have it all together.  

One day at a time, sweet Jesus…

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