Lawn Mower

 The rainy weather and our busy calendars and our failing health have combined to make a very overgrown yard over the past couple of weeks. Today all the pieces fell together — or maybe I was just irked enough at the hayfield in my front yard. So I headed out to mow the jungle. 

And the mower wouldn’t crank. 

Not for me. Not for Coop. Not for Stan. Not for the carburetor cleaner. 

So. Inside I sit. The sun is turning the sky a cool melon color while I weigh my vexation against heavier matters: mourning and fearful families struggling with today’s nearby tragedy; friends fighting all manner of illness; others reeling from broken relationships, bankrupt businesses, burning buildings.  

I’m a fixer, a problem solver. But I’m out of Fix-It. Instead I’m going to spend this evening, taking name after name, trouble after trouble to the Lord’s throne. 

If you need prayer, post here or send me a private message. 

Let love reign and let hope grow in your heart — no matter how tall the grass is.

The Leg Cramp Prayer

 Rain patters on the awnings. At almost midnight, few sounds compete against its gentle tattoo— an occasional rumble of thunder and a rare car spraying puddle water from its tires. And my favorite: a mellow chime carried on the wings of a cool breeze that wafts through the open window. 

I had retired at a decent hour, lying next to Stan, chatting and laughing. But then, as he drifted off to sleep, insomnia and restless legs drove me from the bed. A shower might help. And putting away dinner dishes. And trying a new furniture polish. And reading.

But then the rain began, the baptism of the earth. 

I confess, part of me wondered if we’d ever have enough dry weather at an unbooked hour of the calendar to tame the jungle growing around the house. 

But mostly, I sat down just to let the percussive rain and the cool breeze massage away the day. The world frets about a million things, mostly the wrong things. But I can lie on my couch, wrapped in its drapery, and know beyond the shadow of a doubt that God still controls the universe, hears prayers, and works miracles; that his Son voluntarily suffered a human death to flesh despite his eternal sovereignty; that he conquered death, walked and talked and ate with friends again; that he has offered me power over death in this life by giving me keys to His eternal home: grace and his Holy Spirit, a life changing power to become more and more like Him. 

And that means one thing: loving Him better by loving people better. 

Tonight, Lord, I will sleep, but tomorrow let my kindnesses fall like rain; let my patience chime gently with reverbations of joy borne on a current of hope that has overcome this world and its troubles. Let me bless others and bless You. 

Amen.

Platform

Celebrity?

CEO?

Teacher?

Parent?

If you have a platform, it’s yours to use. You’ve earned it and have the right, maybe even the duty, to speak out against injustice and to share truth as you see it. But here’s the rub: 

1. You must be willing to alienate fans, customers, students, children. Although you may convict and convert some, not everyone will agree with you: some will argue; some will transfer their allegiance. Your stance may cost you. Not just may — it probably will. People may choose out of their own conviction not to support you, and that has to be okay. 
2. You must allow others the same right to speak out, even if their platforms aren’t as tall as yours. However firmly you believe, they do, too. And if you can speak, so can they — with their voices, social media posts, yard signs, votes, and dollars. 
3. You must continue to listen and learn. Although we tend to grip tightly what we espouse publicly, if you use your platform to speak out, you also have to truly hear what others say— and be ready to shift your position. Yes, be ready to say, “I was wrong” just as loudly as what you first pronounced. Sometimes a humble confession speaks more loudly than any proclamation.

The media won’t like this sort of PR very much, so you may not get the attention you used to. (If you’re taking advantage of inflammatory media coverage to boost sales, shame on you!) But the general public will appreciate an honest dialogue of ideas. 

It’s time. Whatever your position, use it to set an example of conviction and kindness, of open-mindedness and contrition. 

Light a Fire

This school week started on a frozen Wednesday -- three days to heat up enthusiasm for a new semester. One of the first tasks we tackled was introducing the quarter's novels: two classes will read Alexander Dumas's Count of Monte Cristo, one Arthur Conan Doyle's Hound of the Baskervilles, and one Mark Twain's Adventures of Huckleberry Finn -- all great books, each with its own strengths: great adventure, clever plot twists, irony, strong character development... and truth woven in and among it all. 

Oddly enough, the one with the most poignant spiritual lessons is the one that survived banishment for a time*: Twain paints an honest picture of true love and respect fostered between a young, white trash, midwestern adolescent and an honorable, protective, father-figure runaway slave. 

Huck Finn is not my favorite American novel (don't tell my American Novels professor), but I do love what it stands for. I love its messages about hypocrisy and greed and dishonesty and, mostly, about the putrescence of racism. I pray for my students as they read it, that in the heart of Memphis, a city riddled

with racial divide, they will read words of hope and healing!

Before introducing them to the book, though, I asked them to discuss society's ills. Start with the three worst. Then compile your list with two others'. Now just brainstorm. Next put a star next to anything you've seen today. Read your starred list. My! That's a sad picture! What do we DO about it? Talk among your group. Come up with one single action plan to combat all that awfulness.

I listened to them honestly evaluate the world in which they live ... and then seek to bring Kingdom to it. My heart swelled as I listened to them express what we all need to do better. Respect other people. Create a forum for honest dialogue. Respond to hurtful things with kindness. Listen better. Love more freely. Be honest. Stand up for what is right, even when no one else will.

As I listened to the wisdom of these sophomores, my skin tingled. 

After class I realized that I hadn't prayed with them that cold Wednesday. But the truth is that the Spirit moved in our hearts that day, prompting goodness in a way no prayer of mine ever could. May the fire He ignited burn brightly as these students go forth as Godly ambassadors into these hallways, these streets, this broken world. May they never lose sight of the power He can give them to battle the spiritual forces of darkness. Even when the last page has been turned on the Mighty Mississippi, may they trust in the power of the soul cleansing flood of Christ's blood to redeem what is lost. 

Amen. Let it be so. 

*Banished as early as a year after its 1884 publication and repeatedly afterward, the classic novel "was the fifth most-frequently-challenged book in the United States during the 1990s, according to the American Library Association" according to Esther Lombardi ("Why The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn Has Been Banned, https://www.thoughtco.com/why-adventures-of-huckleberry-finn-banned-740145).

NOTE:  Feel free to follow and comment here on Blogger. I'd love to know how my experiences bless you and how you see Christ in YOUR classroom (or workplace). Let's make His name FAMOUS! 

When Grace Fills Each Page

I have breast cancer. 

I'm not worried about it. I'm not afraid. The surgeon assures me we caught it early and that a lumpectomy and a week of radiation will take care of it. 

But even if the doctor is wrong, even if something goes terribly awry, I'm still not afraid. I know how my story ends, and all that really matters is how I turn each day's page. 

I told my students. I told them partly because I wanted them to hear the truth from me rather than get their intelligence from a flawed rumor mill. But I also told them because I want them to see that what defines us is not trouble; it's  how we face the trouble.  

Whereas so many grownups wrung their hands and fretted at the news, pampering me any way they could, the teenagers in my classroom have been quietly supportive, offering prayers and gently encouraging words. But mostly they just kept on doing what they'd been doing: studying and not studying, paying attention and squirreling around, taking notes and losing the notes they had taken, smiling Good Mornings and Thank Yous and Do-we-need-a-pencil? After all, that's what I did -- life as normal:  prepare lessons, teach them, test them, grade them; greet students as they came into the classroom and pray for them each day. It's just a thing. So we keep on living. We keep on working. We keep on laughing. We keep on loving. 

Sure, I've wavered, I've cried, I've fretted, I've lost my temper; but it didn't have anything to do with the tumor. It had to do with my human frailty, my own character flaw. I do so wish that, when the surgeon goes in tomorrow to cut out this offending mass, he could do something about my stubborn heart, too. 

But that's not his job. The Great Physician is working on that. He's teaching me an awful lot about who is really in control -- it's not me, by the way. And He's helping me admit when I've reached my limit -- turns out I'm NOT Wonder Woman after all. And He is teaching me how to accept help -- I am too, too doggedly independent. He's administered some tough medicine already, and I do pray that, in the weeks and months and years to come, my students will see a healthier me, whether the cancer is gone or not. 

I pray that they will know without a doubt that my story will end with God's grace because the pages have been filled with it. I pray that they, too, will let Christ fill their pages with Grace so that they might live in Joy no matter what trouble befalls them. 

Lisa

Afterword:  I don't write this for your sympathy, although prayers for body and spirit are certainly appreciated. I really share this hoping that you, too, will muster the courage to meet whatever challenges are in your path. Meet them with power and with hope; meet them with conviction; meet them so that others will know where your faith lies. Meet them so that God can show His might through you! Meet them so that you will be a blessing to someone else. 

In Him, be blessed. 

Tables Turned

I could share with you about our reading today of Jonathan Edwards's "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" because Jesus and His grace was all over that.

I could tell you about my small group girls listening to and reflecting on the Sermon on the Mount because that was a beautiful thin place, where earth got a glimpse of heaven. 

I could tell you about how a discussion of Shakespeare's use of antithesis turned into an exploration of how Jesus turned truth upside down and inside out, issuing in a new kind of kingdom. 

I could tell you about how Fahrenheit 451 offered us an opportunity to discuss the importance of standing for truth and preserving it. 

But what really strikes me about this week is not what happened between bells. What moved me most this week poured from the hearts of students:  the senior boy who sat in my room after school just to get some work done but, when I got a disturbing text, offered to pray with me; the gaggle of girls who trusted me with their "crush" drama and want to be sure God is at the center of it; the senior girl who brought me a bag of goodies and a precious note of encouragement on Tuesday after a Monday biopsy; the yearbook staff who recognize that, when life gets really hard, it's often because Satan is trying to take down some mighty warriors, because we're doing something right, something that honors God, something that threatens the earthly reign of the Prince of Darkness -- and that our best defense is to draw near to God and to live in His righteousness. 

I may be the paid teacher in the room, but my students -- past and present -- repeatedly bring me lessons about the Love of Christ.

"The Gift"

On Monday, I introduced Fahrenheit 451 to my freshmen-- you know, Ray Bradbury's futuristic (and frighteningly prophetic) tale of censorship. In order to whet their appetite, I gave them another Bradbury nibble: "The Gift."

At a mere two pages long, this story wins the Brevity Award. Here's an even briefer synopsis, although I'll include a link at the end -- and, trust me, it's worth the read. It tells of a family who go to Mars for Christmas but, because of weight limitations, are not allowed to take their Christmas tree. (If you've flown lately, you know the current reality of that scenario!) Mom is disappointed, Dad is disappointed, and son is very disappointed. So, having boarded the rocketship, Dad puts his problem solving skills to the test. He tells his family that, although Christmas is just 30 minutes away, he must leave them for a bit. Twenty minutes later, returning, he announces that it's almost Christmas, and son asks again about the tree. Dad asks them to follow him, and he opens a door to a room where crew members are stationed and directs his son to the porthole. The boy presses his nose to the window -- where a vista of stars fills his gaze, and the crew sing Christmas carols. 

I love this story, partly because it's a great vehicle to teach basic plot structure and to introduce Bradbury and science fiction. But even more than that, it paints a beautiful picture of what God does for us. 

We think we want something, maybe something that is really quite good. We ask for it, we yearn for it, we pray for it. And then we don't get it . . . and probably pout a bit. Maybe we outright grumble and complain. 

But then something incredible happens. God gives us something infinitely better: a universe of stars instead of a dimly lit tree. 

"Has this ever happened to you?" I asked the ninth graders in my classroom. "Have you ever prayed for something and not gotten it only to get something much better instead?"  Their eyes brightened, and they nodded their heads. 

"I believe this will happen to you again and again," I went on.  "I believe that God will surprise you throughout your lives with incredible views of the stars when you have prayed for a modest tree. I pray that you will trust Him to give you what He knows is best for you and to be filled with gratitude at His rich blessings."

Dear Father, 

Teach us to trust that You know best. Show us that our wishes for ourselves pale in comparison to Your desires for us. Give us Your shining stars so that we can BE shining lights for You! 

Amen

Read "The Gift" here:  http://www.theimaginativeconservative.org/2011/12/gift-by-ray-bradbury.html

Sweet Dreams

More from Homer... 

While Odysseus and his men wait for weather good enough to sail home, they hang out longer than they'd like on the island of Helios, the sun god. With their provisions gone, they find themselves starving. Having warned his boys not to touch the immortal cattle of the sun god, heroic Odysseus falls asleep praying for wisdom and then, when he wakes to find his men have ignored his warning and sealed their fate, blames the gods for letting him fall asleep.

Haven't you ever fallen asleep while praying? What a great way to drift off! What a peaceful posture for slumber! If your last words of the day are prayers, how sweet your sleep. 

As it turns out, falling asleep actually saves Odysseus.  What happens when the great leader snoozes? His men kill several off-limits cows (yes, another BBQ) and are cursed for it:  Helios entreats Zeus to strike them, going so far as threatening to take his burning orb to the underworld to light the dead. Not willing to risk losing the sun, Zeus lets loose a terrible lightning bolt, shattering the Ithacan ship and killing all the sailors. 

Except Odysseus. Innocent of the act, he is spared. Because he was sleeping, he lives. The very thing he cursed the gods for turns out to save him. 

How many times do we blame God for one thing and then realize later that He was actually protecting us from something else far more horrible? From our limited perspective, we fail so often to trust Him to "lead us in paths of righteousness." We think we know better. We whine. We complain. We rail against Him. And then, in hindsight, we humbly confess our foolishness when His way works best and we realize that, had we gotten our way, destruction would have ensued. He does, after all, see the whole story, all unfurled before Him though, for us, it remains tightly folded from view. 

Perhaps the best course of action tonight is to fall asleep in prayer. 

Sweet dreams.