Jesus Rocked Their World

In the season of Lent, we journey toward the cross. Today, we know the significance of that journey and where it leads: to Christ's death on the cross and the resurrection. In this journey we understand that God gave His son for us so that we might live fully in relationship with God--be restored us in our relationship with Him. I feel overwhelmed by that thought during this season.

But the disciples didn't know this. As Christ moved toward the cross, his disciples only saw hints of what was to come. They did not fully understand what was about to happen would rock their world. Shake it fully.

They knew Jesus, saw the miracles, heard his message. Certainly they believed, if not by faith, then by sight. But, for them, the full meaning of the journey towards the cross could only be understood in hindsight.

I wonder how they felt once they fully understood? When Jesus prayed at the Mount of Olives, His disciples followed Him and He asked them to pray. Instead, they fell asleep. And, later, Peter disowned Jesus. They let Jesus down--because they felt tired or feared persecution. They were human.

But, imagine how they felt once Jesus revealed Himself to them after His death and resurrection. If I place myself in their shoes, I imagine that once the initial joy subsided, I would feel incredible regret. Regret that I failed Christ in what he asked of me, in His darkest moment during His time among us.

But the beauty of the story is that, despite the disciples' failures --disciples who knew Him and followed him during his time on Earth--Christ went to the cross for them, too. The disciples knew not only a direct relationship with Christ while he walked among them, but they were the first to be restored fully to God. They received forgiveness and grace that must have felt incredibly tangible in the moment.

When I put myself in their shoes, I think of those moments when I have wronged someone I love deeply--my husband or children or parents or sibling. I replay those moments, and I think the depth of my regret, but how intimate those conversations of restoration and forgiveness are -- the opening of hearts and the pouring out of forgiveness. Heartfelt moments--often difficult moments--like no others. The embracing of each other when the valley that separated us closes and we have that intimate moment when grace comes rushing down.

I imagine that is how the disciples must have felt. Tangible love, grace, and forgiveness from God.

That is the same love, grace, and forgiveness that Christ offers to all. I don't know if it feels as tangible to me as it must have to the disciples, but it is the same. He is present always with that love, grace, and forgiveness. We just need to turn towards him.

So this season of Lent, as I journey to the cross, I think of how intimately the disciples knew Jesus and how He rocked their world. It reminds me just how tangible God is --if I will just enter into relationship with Him and let His grace pour down on me.

Teaching: It's not about the teacher

As a teacher, I sometimes get caught up in "teaching." Trying to figure out my lesson plans and crafting assignments that will help students learn -- learn the materials, learn to think, learn to write, revise, and edit. As part of this planning, I often think about the "professionalism" aspect of their learning, too. Are they aware of how to communicate professionally? Do they know the importance of being punctual? Do they understand that their integrity--their character and reputation--are far more important than what a supervisor may want them to do, or a client they may represent?

Sometimes I get so caught up that I forget that the students need me to remember that they are not just students -- but thinking, feeling, spiritual human beings.

Maybe it isn't so much that I forget. It's just that I push that aspect of the students off to the side, rather than keep it front and center. I need to love them, not just teach them.

Today, God reminded me.

The students had a first draft of a paper due, for peer review. Two students wrote me in the early morning hours, both in a bit of distress--expressing their frustrations. But between the lines, I could hear not just frustration, but the slipping away of their self-worth and self-confidence.

I added my students to my prayers this morning, but went along my way as usual. But God knew that it was me who needed His grace more than the students.

One of those students stopped by my office to talk later in the day. His face was long and he looked tired. We talked through his paper and his concerns about its structure and content.

Towards the end of the conversation, I saw a sudden flash of life in his face--his eyes lit up and a brief smile crossed his mouth. In that moment, the holy spirit stepped in and flooded the room with compassion. Before I knew it, words were flowing. I paused and something like the following came spilling out of me, "You know [Jason], you need to give yourself more credit than you do. You are really bright. Really capable. You have grown so much as a student and writer this year. This paper will come together and you will be so thrilled with it when you are done. "

It was a flood of grace. The air in the room lifted and [Jason's] demeanor changed completely. I felt his spirit change. I saw it in his eyes and in his face and in his movement.

As for me? I felt God's presence and his grace. Grateful that He knew that this young man needed more than help with his paper. And, grateful that He gave me the opportunity and the words. Grateful for the reminder that I need to keep the whole person (not just the student) and God front and center--not me . . . Even though I might be the one standing in the front of the classroom.