December 3, 2007

• Losing

  It's gotten to the point where I feel guilty if I leave school before 7pm or before the parking lot has cleared.  There's some odd pleasure I experience when I see Beannie sitting out there waiting for me...  all by himself.  That is, on the days I drive to school. 

  The initial rush has finally subsided and things are starting to shift into cruise control.  Things are pretty set, the office is running, I know almost all the students by their first, last, and sometimes even middle names, and how most of them are doing in school.  I have surrogate sons and daughters, and student notes, drawings, and tags on my office whiteboard.  I know some teacher extension numbers without looking at the directory anymore, and can speed-punch in my 12-digit long distance passcode by memory.  I don't spend hours on lesson plans anymore and I know my students are actually learning things.   

  But with all these gains, there are some things I'm losing.  Like my edge.  I'm starting to get too comfortable, less always-professional, and less meticulous. So what?  Yeah.  I suppose these are things I can even afford to cut back on.  But with comfort comes self-reliance, and with self-reliance comes self-sufficiency.  And with self-sufficiency comes losses: loss of the constant and desperate clinging to God, loss of devotional and prayer time with my students during personal meetings, and loss of humility and self-sacrifice. 

  These are losses I can't afford.  And I won't afford them. 

  It's an easy feeling being in a Christian institution.  There's protection, trust, a throwing down of walls.  But even so, there are some things I believe everyone should always be vigilant about.  I feel this way particularly because I believe there are precious cargo that has been put into my charge, mixed in with even other precious cargo which need to be led and blessed and safely guided because they have not yet met the Father. 

  I don't want an easy life.  (DId I just say that?)  No...  I don't.  I don't want an easy life.  I didn't come here just to make friends, have fun, and refine the craft of teaching.  I don't want to be here just for that...  I desperately don't.  And yet comfort, like deep slumber, is starting to swallow me. 

  I don't want to be the prophets (like in Ezekiel 13) who prophesied peace where there was no peace, or the prophets who conceded to the requests of the people (like in Isaiah 30) to speak only smooth things.  There are things eternal at stake.  I know it. 

  This doesn't mean I'm going to spurn the blessings I believe has been given.  Diligence doesn't imply the absence of joy which is definitely bountiful.  I laugh every day and there are many opportunities for mentoring and relationship-building.  There is so much to be thankful for, so much to love, so many blessings. 

  I read today that the best way to combat discouragement is to praise God. 

  It works. 

  Draw me nearer, nearer, nearer blessed Lord...

   

   

  • 7:58 pm
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