Right or Wrong

As a K-12 music teacher I have heard a creative assortment of reasons for the poor choices my students make. I am certain that I haven't heard them all, but my students have used everything from "I didn't know that would happen," to "it seemed like a good idea at the time," to "you didn't tell me I couldn't," to "how could I resist?" And the list goes on. There are moments when I have to give credit for creativity, and other moments when I have to give grace for true ignorance. However, there are some excuses that are really no excuse at all. The one that really gets my goat goes something like this;

"I didn't mean to do it."

 Let's suspend the probable reality surrounding the majority of these situations and assume that this statement--"I didn't mean to do it"--is actually true. My first reaction to this excuse (at least internally if not actually spoken to the perpetrator) is a very simple question. "What did you mean to do?"
What I have found is that there are a frightening number of people in our world (most likely every one of us has been guilty of this at some point in our lives) who honestly don't mean to do bad things, yet somehow find themselves doing those very things anyway. We don't mean to hurt people. We don't mean to lie. We don't mean to talk about people behind their back. We don't mean to steal. No one starts out their life thinking, "I am going to go out and make a series of poor choices that will lead down a path of irresponsible and destructive living." We don't mean to do it!
But what do we mean to do?
My students can tell me until they are blue in the face that they don't mean to behave poorly, but that doesn't mean a thing to me until they can tell me what they are trying to do to live rightly and to make good choices. As humans it is in our nature to follow a pattern. Given the choice between right and wrong, wrong is almost always the easiest, most enticing, most natural direction for us to move. Therefore, if we do not mean to do the right thing--working at it, striving for it--we will automatically do the wrong thing...whether we mean to or not. There is no neutral ground. We are either trudging forward or we are running or falling backward. The slope is too slippery to simply stand still and hope we won't get dirty. If we don't fight in the battle, we are guaranteed to lose.
I don't pretend for a moment that any one of us can live perfectly right by trying in our own effort to do so. Some times our perception of right is distorted so that even in trying to do right we do the other thing (speaking from unfortunate and painful experience). We can't possibly be mindful of every facet of right and wrong. While trying to do right in one area we will slip up in another.
I don't expect perfection from my students. I expect effort. I expect them to fight within themselves for what is right and good. It won't be perfect.
Only one perfect person has ever walked this earth. He has offered his help, and his is the only help that can truly get us moving toward the ultimate goal of perfect rightness. Until we get there, however, we're going to make some mistakes...even though we don't mean to.

Empty Idols

Over the last few weeks I've been doing more and more time-wasting activities. I like to call them "relaxing entertainment". What this entertainment ultimately produces in me is two things, an increased desire for junk food (of which I have little to begin with), and a progressively decreasing interest in anything productive (ie. worthwhile or life giving). I even become less interested in getting out and interacting with real people!
I see this happening, and I notice myself moving deeper and deeper into this lifeless void; this idol I have established in my own home. Yet it seems so harmless. I do my work, so don't I deserve this little treat? It's my time to use how I wish. At least I'm not pursuing any gross immorality.
And so, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day I draw closer to the altar I have built with my own hands, and I sacrifice my life--giving my very soul to this powerless god.
What, you might ask, is my reward for such devotion? Perhaps a few good laughs and a couple stories to share. More likely, a few pounds gained (though most people seem to think I could do with a few more pounds), a growing distaste for sweets, and an increasing resentment toward myself.
In the few moments I manage to pull myself away from the altar I am able to see just how much I am wasting my life and recognize the fact that I am simply trying to fill an inner void. I am thirsty; parched to the point of dehydration and desperation. In my thirst I am turning to a broken cistern; a cracked vessel to retrieve from it the last remaining drops of water...and those drops are salty. Driven by my growing desire for satisfaction and fulfillment, I continue to use the same broken glass to bring what liquid I can to my emotionally emaciated body.
I see this happening, and I grow sick of myself.
Of course I have an overabundance of good excuses. My personal favorite is the most simple, "I can do that other stuff later. It doesn't have to be done right now. Just a little bit more entertainment and then I'll get back to work." That is precisely how I seal the deal. As soon as I have subtly suggested the idea that whatever else I might have in mind to do is "work", I have a reason not to do it. "I work all day. I should take a break from all that work in the evenings and on the weekends. Don't I do enough as it is? I deserve this." And as simple as that, I am sold. Back to the altar I go to have my life siphoned like a gas tank.
Because that is really how I feel when I finally pull myself away. Rather than feeling rested and prepared to take on whatever the world is aiming to throw at me, I feel even more drained and weary than I was before approaching the altar.
Only just this afternoon did I finally come to a point in my deprivation that I was able to see what I was doing for what it truly was--a vain attempt at filling my own emptiness with a big, shiny jar of nothing. That realization has made all the difference in just a few hours. The result has been quite enjoyable and something I can look back on and say, "well done, Michael. I am much more proud to be you now than I was at the beginning of the day."
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go approach the altar of the one true God where I know he holds an extra measure of grace for those who humbly come to him in their brokenness. And where I am promised to find a fountain of living water to quench my thirst and satisfy my soul.

"Mom! Jesus Won't Stop Sharing!"

The other day as I was thinking about how Jesus Christ came to the earth I was suddenly struck by the idea that he was part of a family, and in that way not only joined us in understanding our temptations and trials, but also understanding our family interactions and challenges. As I ponder this idea I begin to wonder, if Jesus lived the perfect life in terms of his family relationships and interactions, why aren't we given those stories in the Bible so that we can understand what it means for brothers and sisters to love each other and for children to obey their parents in the day-to-day things of life? However, the more I think about it the more I realize that it just isn't necessary.
God has already given us clear instructions and godly examples regarding family relationships in the Bible. "Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right" (Eph. 6:1). "Honor your father and mother" (Exodus 20:12). "Behold, how good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell in unity" (Ps. 133:1). "You shall not hate your brother in your heart" (Lev. 19:17).
More than that, we know how we are to treat our family because it has been written on our hearts, "They show that the work of the law is written on their hearts, while their conscience also bears witness, and their conflicting thoughts accuse or even excuse them" (Rom. 2:15). And when we are in such a state of mind and heart as to ignore those basic morals, I highly doubt we would change our tune just because we read a story of Jesus sharing his toys (though I would be interested in seeing just how that scene played out). The majority of references to "brother" in the Bible have more to do with a common ancestry or common heart than with common parents. Among the Israelites all other Israelites (and Edomites, as they come from Esau, Israel's brother) were considered brothers. Jesus said, "whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother" (Matt. 12:50). The deeper I go, the more I am convinced that how siblings are to treat each other is a given, because that is the example used for how we are to treat everyone else. "Treat younger men like brothers...younger women like sisters, in all purity" (1 Tim. 5:1,2).
Jesus does have a few things to say about brothers. Though he is likely referring to the brotherhood of spirit rather than that of blood.

But I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment; whoever insults his brother will be liable to the council; and whoever says, "You fool!" will be liable to the hell of fire. So if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go. First be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift. (Matt. 5:22-24)

Jesus also says that we are not only to reconcile ourselves to our brothers for our own actions, but also to forgive the actions of our brothers not just a few times, but always (Matt. 18:21-22). Brothers are to hold each other accountable for their actions, not out of judgment (for we each have a plank in our own eye, Matt. 7:1-5), but out of a desire to restore the brother back into right relationship with God and others (Matt. 18:15-17).
Are there a lot of negative examples of sibling interaction in the Bible? Wow, Bessie, are there ever. The first kid ever born kills his brother. Jacob steals Esau's birthright and blessing. Jacob's sons sell Joseph into slavery (in lieu of killing him). King David's kids are messed up! Jesus' own brothers try to draw Jesus out to where the authorities can take him down. But these are just sinful flesh and blood human beings like any one of us. It isn't that they didn't know how they aught to treat each other. They did it because they desired something else; something selfish. "Each one is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire" (James 1:14).
It strikes me that Jesus did not come to live out every possible example of showing love toward others. Jesus was never married (on earth). He never had kids. We don't get to see how Jesus interacted with his employer. Instead of demonstrating every possible action and reaction of love he demonstrated the direction of love and the extent to which love will go. His example makes love more applicable to every situation in life than it would have been if he had spent his time specifying how to respond in every situation. Love isn't about the specific response. Love is about the heart. Not what we feel like doing, but looking at people the way God looks at them and caring about their best interests. That is what Jesus demonstrated. That is how he lived. And I am sure that he lived the same way toward his family while he was growing up as he did toward his disciples and the crowds.

I Tip My Hat To You

Every once in a while I like to read a good children's book. Children's literature is important. Often times they are tremendously creative and full of valuable life lessons. I especially enjoy reading some of these stories to children of all ages (and I do mean all ages). Dr. Seuss has written some of my personal favorites when it comes to simple stories that convey great meaning; The Sneetches, Yertle the Turtle, What was I Scared of?, and many others. Seuss is widely known for his funny rhymes, odd characters, and strange new words, but one of my most cherished tales from the Dr. has none of these...well, maybe it has a few odd characters, but they are nothing so strange as the Whos or the Once-ler.
The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins is the story of a boy who finds himself in a dire predicament that is completely beyond his control. Or at least that is what one might conclude to be the purpose of the story. It is written in such a way that if one were not paying close attention he might pass it off as simply a clever story of an odd situation. When one delves deeper, however, he finds that there is really a very serious issue at stake, and what's more, the issue is never resolved--merely pacified.
One day young Bartholomew--a peasant between the ages of 9 and 14 I would guess--travels to the nearby town to sell some cranberries. Upon arriving in the town Bartholomew's entire day is disrupted when the king drives by in his carriage with his royal entourage. The king stops directly in front of the boy because Bartholomew--so it would seem--has not removed his hat out of respect for his majesty. Bartholomew does not understand the kings frustration for he has indeed removed his hat from his head and holds it in his hands. Unbeknownst to the boy, there is another hat--exactly like the first--upon his head. When the second hat is removed a third appears above the boy's brow. The king is infuriated and has Bartholomew hauled off to the palace to be dealt with.
It is a truly silly story told in the entertaining Dr. Seuss fashion as hat after hat after hat appears from under each previous hat. And of course the more hats that are removed the more frustrated the king becomes. He brings in the royal haberdasher, and the great wise men. He has the hats shot off with arrows and chanted away by magicians with black cats. The king even comes to a point where he decides the boy must be executed (a plan that could not be fully enacted because the executioner could not chop off any head that was covered by a hat).
So what is the real issue here? Many (including myself at one time) would think it is simply a clever story of a marvelous occurrence, and that the crux of the story is that Bartholomew could not take off his hat. None of that would have been a problem, however, if the king had not been--as many kings, noblemen, and people of high position often are--so proud. If only the king could have seen past his own ego to the fact that the boy did what he could to show his respect, it would have been a much shorter, and less interesting story. The king could not, however, see past the boy's hat.
I say that kings and others of high position have a tendency toward this kind of ego-centrism, but the fact of the matter is that I have a hard time seeing past the hats on the heads of other people. It doesn't take a kingdom to make a person proud. It doesn't take a position of authority to build an ego. All it takes is one thing, one little thing that I am good at. One little area in which I have shown aptitude and ability. One little thing that I have clear possession and control over. With that one little thing I can build in my mind an empire where in every other person ought to show their respect toward me.
Suddenly I begin to believe that for some reason I am actually something, and everyone else must recognize that something. If they do not recognize it, then they are fools--again setting myself higher and higher in my estimations of the world. Certainly, I might recognize greater authorities, but within my own fiefdom the peasants had better not get in my way or even look at me wrong, and they most definitely must remove their hats in my presence.
And so I must ask myself, what are the hats on other people's heads that I can't seem to look past? Who have I elevated myself above to the point of condemning the person? What little habit, or tick, or attitude, or idea, or belief, or image, or background of theirs seems to trigger the wrath (subtle though it may be) of my own ego? What makes me so much better than them?
And then I must consider, what hats do I wear that set a bur in the britches of others around me?
As I mentioned before, the real issue of the story is never resolved. Bartholomew only survives his encounter with the king because upon seeing the extravagance of the 500th and final hat the king is diverted from his intentions of defending his ego, but only so that he may build his ego further by acquiring this regal hat for himself. The king has learned nothing.
I do not want to be like king Derwin. I do not want my level of joy to be dictated by the little irritations of life. Paul says, "Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourself" (Phil. 2:3). This life is not about me. The more and more I try to promote myself, the more miserable I become. On the other hand, the more I tend to the needs and cares of others, the more joy I bring to those around me. What makes me so much better than them anyway? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Evening Stroll

The warm red and amber glow of the setting sun pours through the cracks in the clouds. A gentle, cold breeze glides across the grain fields cut even and clean by the harvest. Each step along the country road produces mixed emotions through both a satisfying and intrusive gravely crunch. There is joy in the sound like that of treading through fresh fallen leaves. At the same time the noise interrupts and dispels the serene stillness of the evening. What can one do, but embrace the joy and allow the rhythmic disturbance of every falling step to play in concert with the orchestration of God's creation.
This evening is not a very cold one, but cooler weather has set in. I am wearing my thickest coat--the blue one given to me by my father--and my knit cap, scarf, and gloves (all green). It's not that I could not endure the temperature of this particular evening. However, when one is walking against the wind for prolonged periods of time even a little cool air can become discomforting and even painful. Better safe than sorry.
I am out here to stretch my legs and get some fresh air, and, as I often do while strolling through God's great creation, to spend some time with the artist and author of this vast canvas and elaborate story. As I walk, admiring the creator's handiwork, I turn my thoughts to conversation. I have such a limiting perspective on the world around me and the world within me. This is where I go to seek out the greatest and entirely complete perspective. The endless prairies seem large enough a space to unpack the cares, concerns, and questions of my life. The limitless skies seem a sufficient container into which I can lift my praise and thanks. When all is said and done the Lord who walks beside me breathes in the air of my praise and tends to the fields of my concerns.
Sometimes I think that I am walking in search of answers. What I return with is something much greater--a reassurance that the Lord knows my heart, and that He will lead me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

As Unto The Lord

Now back to our regularly scheduled program.
In my first year of teaching I developed one particular skill that is invaluable to any teacher; the ability to improvise. So as I returned for my second year behind the wheel of the educational apparatus, I walked in a little too confidently perhaps. Sure, I still planned things, but it was with the idea of meeting the bare minimum requirements. This mentality made sense last year when I was just trying to figure things out and the bare minimum meant a whole lot of work. This year, however, the bare minimum meant I was being lazy. Before long I began to be convicted.
I've had a year to assess the situation and to figure things out. Now it was time to really step up and discover what I could do to make things better. There are far too many teachers out there just trying to pay the bills and make it to retirement. I don't want to be one of them. I got into this work for the kids, so why wouldn't I really apply myself to it? (Maybe because I'm inherently selfish. Darn that sin nature.) What is more, God makes it clear that teachers had better be doing their diligence.
"Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness" (James 3:1).
Sure, James was probably referring more to the teaching of spiritual things, but there is no such thing as purely secular education. All education is sacred in that it is delivered in devotion to something just as every person lives a life of worship toward something. The teaching may be devoted toward the security of the almighty dollar (good job, good home, lots of possessions, padded bank account), or devoted to control (lawyer, judge, politician, CEO), or devoted to the humanist idea (artist, poet, historian, educator, scientist), or simply to the defamation of God himself (evolutionary science, Historical Jesus, leaders of false religions). Though there is nothing inherently wrong with the occupations of the first three groups, there is a great deal wrong with such motivations and devotions. And it can be safely inferred that each and every educator teaches with a sacred and worshipful devotion to something.
I would hope and pray that my teaching would be performed out of devotion to my God and Father. I would hope and pray that out of my devotion and love for God I would love and care for my students. I would hope and pray that out of that love and care for my students I would labor to give them the best education I could offer--while still maintaining a balanced life and not allowing education itself to become the object of my devotion. Both my teaching and my preparation to teach ought to be acts of devotion to God, and God deserves my best; not my bare minimum.
Do I still improvise? Every day. That's just part of the territory when it comes to teaching in my subject area. But I am also planning a lot more. I am trying to find more and more creative ways to teach the subjects I have. In my "free time" I am working to develop myself in the areas that I teach so that I might be able to teach more effectively and with greater integrity.
Is it a lot of work? Oh, yes. But it comes with a lot of joy as I work in the service of my Lord and as I share the fruit of my labor with my students. (Even if they still don't care. That's their loss.)

The Heavens Declare

Montana is beginning to look a lot more like Oregon. It has been overcast for the last week. I guess it has rained a little (I was out of the area when it happened), but mostly the clouds just sit there. Since the snow has all melted, the seeds have been--or are being--planted, and the sun has had some opportunity to break through there is now a good deal of actual green in the area. This is not the kind of green that would only be called such by people who look at fields of brown and yellow every day of their lives. I am talking about actual, bright, photosynthesizing green. It's mostly in the grassy lawns and on the wild edges of the brown and tan fields. I must say that the green does my heart good. Never have I appreciated green more than I do now. Six months of white was incredible and beautiful, but green is a precious commodity, and I am blessed by it.
God has given us such a diverse world. Even in the relatively short distance between western Oregon and eastern Montana the climate, atmosphere, flora, fauna, culture, and lifestyles are just different enough to feel like they are worlds apart. Yet these are only two locations on a planet containing myriad of other climates, plants, animals, and cultures. In each of those locations there are distinct changes brought about by the various seasons. There are a multitude of beautiful scenes, and there are countless dangers. Somewhere on this planet there are tribes that worry themselves with issues that we would never even consider because those challenges could not even occur in our neck of the woods.
What a magnificent world God has created for us. It is a world where we can appreciate so much beauty, but must also remain humble in our inability to manage and control the dangers. This is not a safe planet. Countless lives have been lost in the reality that we are not in control here. Here we have hurricanes, tornadoes, floods, blizzards, earthquakes, volcanoes, tsunamis, fires, avalanches, deadly animals and insects, diseases, mental illness, poverty, malice, racism, classism, sexism, war, murder, theft, gossip, slander, jealousy, drunkenness, drug addiction, suicide, self-deprivation, over indulgence, fear, pain, sorrow, and death. This is not a safe world, and we are not in control. I am humbled by this truth.
There is one who is in control. Although he may not be safe by the standards of the world, he is good. He is present in the midst of the beauty and the storm. His majesty and power are seen in the beauty and grandeur of creation, and his presence and peace can be found in the torments of the world. Elijah heard him as a still small voice. Job heard him speaking out of the storm. Our Lord slept in the middle of a raging sea, and walked not on calm waters but in the middle of rushing winds and crashing waves.
I thank God for his wonderful creation; that it would remind me of his glory, creativity, and beauty; that it would humble me and remind me that he is God and I am not; that it would remind me that he is always there for me.