Master Teacher

It is no secret to those who know me well that I have tremendous respect for my father. In his popular book Wild at Heart John Eldridge writes that every man has a wound and nearly all men were given it by their father. I believe I am a counterexample to this idea, although perhaps I just haven't found my wound. I do know one thing though, if it exists, my dad didn't cause it.

I have written here before and will write here again about my dad, so I'll try to keep this succinct. For 22 of the 25 years it has been in existence, my dad has been the principal of a small, unique, private Christian grade school (K-8) which is a ministry of a large church in suburban Atlanta. Last weekend the church hosted a 25th Anniversary celebration for the school, and my dad had a role in the Sunday service. Part of this role was writing a small "mini-sermon," if you will, which appeared in the church bulletin. I've typed it out below for you to read (if you'd like) and me to remember.

The central message of the text ("he did not come to change your circumstances, but first to change you") speaks to me, but not as much as the pieces of my father's character which are woven into it. His love for education and the picture of Christ as a teacher. His struggle with perfectionism. The constant battle he fights with parents who can't believe their children are sinners. His desire to be good, loving, and wise parent - his desire that my sisters and I don't experience pain. His love for nature study. His patience and quiet spirit - the spirit of the gardener he is on so many levels - which is so like my sister and so radically different from my mother's and my loud melodrama. The voice of a man who has cried out "why!?" to his God many times.

Other characteristics were apparent in the rest of the celebration that weekend. Over 1100 people came out to celebrate a school with 500 students, which speaks volumes I think. It was overwhelmingly clear to me that my Dad loves his schoolchildren dearly, that their parents love him for it, and the work God has given him is powerful.

Enjoy.

A friend posed a question that has resonated with me for years. It involved a picture of building a road: removing obstacles, smoothing the low spots and widening the narrow curves. Her question was seemingly simple: do we spend more time, attention and money in building roads that are obstacle-free, or do we mold, create and refine better vehicles that withstand all the bumps and grinds?

Now in transportation maybe the answer is both, but when applied to our child's education or even our own personal lives, we have to think a bit. My friend's specific application was a personal challenge to my parenting, but it has wide applications. Do I desire to please my children by clearing all possible hurdles, or do I focus on preparing their hearts and minds for the bumpy ride?

I am at pains to find the Master Teacher ever clearing a road for anyone. In fact, he spent more time emphasizing the certainty of obstacles than in clearing them (John 16:33).

His inaction on behalf of others frustrated some of his students, and it often frustrates me! When his friend Lazarus dies, he procrastinates two entire days. When his disciples expect helpful tools for their first mission, he replies, "Take nothing." When Martha asks for help in the kitchen, he defends her unhelpful sister. When Philip requests a concrete map for the way ahead, he points only to himself. Jesus obviously had no intention of clearing their paths or filling the holes; instead he force them and instructs prepare, "to be ready" (Titus 3:1).

Practically speaking, this goes against the grain of many of us "fix it" people, especially parents. The selection for the basketball team excludes our son, who in our opinion is surely the best in the league, and we start a quarrel. Our seemingly innocent daughter breaks an honor code, and we incredulously look for others to blame. "God, how could you let this happen to my precious child?" Perhaps, he replies, "because I love you and your child enough to help you learn the truth, painfully but genuinely."

When many plant species are protected fully from wind, fire and natural stress, their growth is stunted. The Master Gardener said in John 15, "I will prune you that you will bear more fruit. . . fruit that remains." It seems like thinks pruning is not optional, no matter how much we fertilize and try to pull out all the weeds.

As we worship today, may we hear clearly the Master's answer to Philip. In all our frustration with obstacles in employment, government, religion, parenting and daily living, he says: "I am the way, the truth, and the life." He did not come to change your circumstances, but to first change you.

Father, we ask you to do your pruning and prepare us travel the roads ahead. May we die daily to a bit more of ourselves, so we can learn to live more at your feet. Master, teach us!