Recently, my brother told me he felt I was too forbearing--that perhaps, as a result of my pragmatic questions of "Is this a useful emotion?" and "Does this matter in the Kingdom?"--I had too many repressed emotions that, at any moment, could implode. At the time, I found his comment utterly false, and unlike a lot of other conversations I've had with him in the past, I am happy to report that this initial reaction has only been affirmed in hindsight.
This has indeed been another year of "dying to self," and I have never had a more exhausting, nor a more fulfilling year. In my marriage, I have become much more concerned with asking these types of questions this past year, and I’ve learned that there is very little that’s important enough to even bring up to Isaiah. Most things, I am able to handle with just God and I—some of these being caused or partially caused by my own sins of selfishness and self-focus—and the rest bring some form of preference (not important in the least; we all have them, so why not let them go?) or mild irritation, which when prayed over, is easily put into perspective. I have also asked myself these questions concerning the woman who was in our home for quite a while.
My conversations with God looked something like this:
“God, I am irritated that there is a complaining woman sitting on my toilet whilst I am trying to have a relaxing shower after working all day.”
Response: “And did I not do more for thee?...
And do you mean it when you ask to seek ministry training for missions full-time?...
Do you think a small trial such as this is real suffering for my name's sake?”
...Discussion ended because God has totally owned me with his awesome logic and his example in form of Jesus Christ.
Prayer then ensues about my selfish heart and the need for continued radical change.
My teaching has also been highly effected by the issue of forbearance and dying to self. It is true, as the quote up in my classroom claims, “When justice and mercy kiss, there lies solution.” You do need justice to run a classroom. But, for me, it seems that patience and forbearance are much more important, for, in the end, it is really not about me having a good day. It’s about me having a good witness to students who may or may not know what grace in the face of meanness and disrespect looks like.
The central advice I have received during my teaching career is "You need to be more of a b****," "You need to make them fear you," and "You're just too nice." And, while I know that this advice comes from a good place and that, yes, I, at times, am too nice, it is advice that I cannot fully take to heart. I not only seek to set and stick to standards in calm and kind ways. I also place character (my own most importantly, since I am the classroom example) above my feelings and even my comfort and well-being.
If you disagree with me here, do not worry. I felt unsettled about it for a long while too until I figured out that I still 100% agree with this perspective. Ultimately, I care more about my students seeing a grown up speak with kindness, respect, and holiness than I do about my own comfort and ease in the classroom. I take stands and kindly rebuke when needed, but my "when needed" is not the same as most others which often means more (at least emotional) harm to me. It is a trade off. But it's one I've finally reached a certain peace about. It is a dying to self.
My self (my comfort, my ease, my personality, even at times my authority) is less important than showing my students, over all, what Jesus looks like. Is Jesus authoritative? Yes. Is He Justice Driven? Yes. But, He also cares more about a student's soul than he does about my own comfort. If I can win just one soul for Christ, or peek just one student's curiosity about what makes me kind in the face of difficulty, that is worth more than a thousand days of ease and comfort for me in the classroom. I'll get that in Glory. They may not.
I say these things, and yet living in this way is difficult. I often feel that other teachers have it easier, and I have found this to be true. But I am not called to have it easier. I am called to be a light in a world full of darkness. Does that not include a classroom?
I do not mean to say that I am a push-over. I mean to say than I am a humble servant of Christ. We are often taken for push-overs this side of the Kingdom, and our lives are often painful, for people take kindness to be weakness when actually it takes great, unearthly strength.
When my students are unkind, when they make fun of how I handle issues (with humor, with awkwardness, with holy standards), when they disrespect me, they are sent out but not until after I try every other redemptive act possible, often to the detriment of my energy but to the improvement of their character. I have always scolded myself about this. ...About the fact that I am slow to act and to anger. But these--are not bad qualities. They are holy ones which God has cultivated in me.
I am only just beginning to come to terms with the fact that I, as a teacher, will never be at peace as other teachers are. I will always be in pain because kids are cruel and disrespectful and mean whilst I remain constant, kind, and forbearing to those who don't deserve it. I have finally realized that this is not a struggle because I am a bad teacher, or because I am a teacher at all.
It is a struggle because I am a Christian: I exude grace while being shown something much uglier. It is no different than any other job I've had, or any other hardship I've endured. It simply is more evident when in the teaching field.
I have figured out that I am dying to self every day in the battle field of my classroom. And that is why it's hard. That is why I struggle. But it is a worthwhile struggle and a hardship that matters. It is not for nought. It is for the Kingdom, so that my kids, knowing that I am a Christian, will never be able to say that I was anything other than Christ to them.
Though I began teaching wanting to be Christy of Cuttergap, wanting to show Christ to students, somehow along the way I got lost and began to believe that I taught because I was good at it, because it fulfilled me day to day, because it made me feel ignited and important and valued.
I am no longer lost. I teach not to be fulfilled but to fulfill others. I teach not because it gives me energy but because it drains it, and loss for someone else's good is gain in Christ. I teach because I can make others feel valued and important even when, at the end of the day, I end up feeling like nothing.
I teach to give out. Just like I live to give out. Just like I give in my marriage. Just like I give in ministry. Just like I plan to give in missions. This life is not about my being fulfilled. It is about me seeking the Father, getting filled by Him as much as possible, and giving until it hurts.
Until there's nothing left.
That is what my Father did. I am to be about His business.
All Glory to Him for refocusing my heart and motivation.
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