Prophets and Kings

She said to her mistress,

"If only my master would go to the prophet who is in Samaria, 

he would cure him of his skin disease."

So Naaman went and told his master what the girl from the land of Israel had said.

Therefore, the king of Aram said,

"Go and I will send a letter with you to the king of Israel."

2 Kings 5: 3 - 5a

We always think we have a better idea.  The prophet, he was clearly told.  Even as specific as, the prophet in Samaria.  So why was Naaman sent to the king?  

A prophet doesn't sound very important, I guess. Especially to the king of a conquering nation of a different religion.  The king, surely, was the one with the power, the source of any miracles that the masses might have attributed to this insignificant holy man.  

There would be no going through lowly underlings for the vanquishing warrior.  He would go right to the top and demand his boon.  His would take pride in forcing his past adversary to receive his messenger, in rubbing salt in the wounds of the recent defeat, as he forced the king to grant his request.  

Yet the king could do nothing.  He knew he had no power from God.  He was horrified by the very implication and considered it an act of war.  Surely, he was aware that Elisha had the answer, but there's nothing to indicate that he asked.  Elisha had to make the offer himself.

Even the one who should have known best, had no faith in God's order.  A lowly prophet, what could he do?  Why would he even think of sending such an important commander to someone so beneath his notice?

A simple answer, a quiet one, with no fanfare, and theatrics and celebrity experts; how often do I too brush past the gift of God's answer, searching for a little more drama?

  

Back in the Stream

Thick and wide and slow and the river flows.  Peace descending gentle leaching tension, floating downstream on drifting limb.  We sit in trio on an herb garden patio, with a sweet cheerful waitress and the brush of a cooling late summer breeze.

I know why they pass out contracts in the spring.  If any of us collectively remembered the overwhelming exhaustion  of the first two or three weeks of school, the district would never get anyone back.  It's not really the sudden all day standing and moving or even the return of early morning have to be somewhere on time.  It's the constant, every moment "on" of being hyper aware of every movement of every student.  Are they following directions? Are they working on the assignment?  Are they focused on the lesson?  Do they understand my instructions or are they even aware that I've given any?

In two to three weeks, they'll be in the routine.  They'll know what to do and how to read the shorthand phrases and gestures that move us through the day.  It won't be the end of challenges.  They'll think up creative and covert ways of avoiding the struggle of learning, but they'll give me space to breathe.  As questions melt into habits, I can relax into the days and the joy of teaching; into of the flow of watching them grow.

Daily Bread

They were discussing among themselves that they did not have any bread.

Mark 8:16

They had just come from watching Jesus feed the multitudes with a handful of bread and fish.  They had collected baskets of leftovers.  They had listened to him preach to the crowds and watched him battle with Pharisees.  

And they were worried that they only had one loaf of bread in the boat with them.

It doesn't seem to be a particularly long trip they had planned.  It doesn't even say that they were hungry yet. They just knew they would be in the future.  They focused on the resource in their hands, to solve a problem that didn't yet exist. 

Did they turn to Jesus, watching from the side of the boat?  Did they ask him what to do?  Or did they nervously whisper their worries as they eyed the single loaf, sensing the frustration he must surely feel at their fears?

He doesn't appear to have given them the bread they didn't really need at that point.  He just asked them to recite back to him the details of his past miracles and gave them time to think.

The horizon is clouded with jostling problems that might occur some day.  The wake behind me awash in the blessings of constant provision.  And Jesus rests calmly in the bobbing boat, waiting for me to remember, to trust, to focus on what really matters.  

Healing Love

Then a man with a serious skin disease

came to Him,

and, on his knees begged Him:

If You are willing,

You can make me clean.

Moved with compassion,

Jesus reached out his hand and touched him.

"I am willing,"

He told him,

"Be made clean"

Mark 1: 40-41

It was never about the healing, not the physical kind anyway.  Jesus came to draw us to His Father.  His longing was to reach the people, to touch them with the truth.  Because of this healing, he could no longer even enter the town in peace. 

I always used to wonder why he would tell the people he healed not to say anything.  Aren't we supposed to honor God and show our gratitude for his gifts?  But this time, it thwarted the very work he was trying to do. The jostling, shouting crowds wanted a show, not a sermon.  They wanted to be entertained and awed. Some wanted legitimate cures for their various trials, and some just wanted to be part of the excitement.  Hardly anyone wanted to listen and reflect, to pray and repent.

So why do it?  Why not just walk away?  Why not tell the man to consider his sins, to beg for forgiveness, to set his mind on more important matters? 

Because Jesus was "moved with compassion".  In spite of the turmoil created by this one simple act, He cared about the single unimportant man reaching out to him from the side of the road.  He took his pain to heart and longed to give him joy.  

He still does.  

The Shepherd's Call

And I will give you shepherds 

according to My heart,

who will feed you with knowledge and understanding.

Jeremiah 3:14

There's a lot of shepherds out there.  Shepherds who lead and cajole with enticing words and decadent feasts only skimming the salty spray of knowledge and understanding.  The sheep don't care.  They'll follow a voice, a bucket of feed, or just a another sheep who seems to be moving with purpose.

They demand a leader.  Left to themselves, they'll gnaw a pasture down to bare dirt or collectively run off in confused panic.

Their short stubby bodies can't see much beyond themselves.  Heads lowered to graze or raised to chew their cud, they still have such limited vision.  The dangers of predators, cliffs, and barren fields are as hidden in the distant mists as the blessings of a cool pure spring and succulent meal.  

The shepherd according to God's heart guides them through life.  He sees the distant threats and promises.  He looks ahead for rocks or cliffs that could break the sheep's legs.  He finds the perfect mixture of grasses to nourish them and may force them away from a field they're enjoying, knowing that it will make them sick later on.

He's walked this field before. He knows when to turn, when to stop, when to struggle on.  He decides what they eat and drink and where and when they sleep.   He watches each one and keeps them from wandering off alone.

A shepherd equipped with the knowledge and understanding of God, is the only shepherd worth following.

Summer Images

It's the winding down weekend of summer. It seems odd in the first week of August, but school starts one week from Monday and that begins fall in my mind.
It won't feel like it I'm sure.  After a beautifully cool last week of July, it's likely that the first couple of weeks of school will be the hottest of the year.  We'll be standing out on the bus loop every afternoon, handing out bottles of water to carry the kids through their steamy trip home, and wondering why they're not in a pool somewhere.

But it's over all the same.  The weeks have dwindle to memories;  images trapped in a digital cloud, and the crisscross stripes on my sandaled feet.  On a final fling of summer trip, I decided on a way to extend it.

I had already started making a picture slide to help introduce myself to my new class.  It was mostly just to remind myself what to say.  Those first days are always so awkward.  It doesn't feel right to just jump into lessons as if we all know each other, but do they really want my litany of who I am and how long I've taught and what my kids are doing?  They're twelve.  They're terrified of life in their own skin and what's going to happen in the hall when the bell rings.

So I made my slide to make it focused and quick and hopefully slightly interesting.  I used pictures of places we've lived while traveling with the Air Force, places I knew many of them had never visited.  It usually generates some interest, particularly when I tell them about Alaska, but I began to realize just how long ago that's all been now.  Alan left the military over thirteen years ago now.  That's longer than most of them have been alive and so, completely irrelevant to them.

So I'm creating a new slide, a summer life slide, of  my bike trip, the botanical gardens, floating the river and climbing rocks.  Between the pictures are numbers significant to me, with clues in the pictures as to what that significance might be.  Their assignment will be to make use of the scientific skills of observation and critical thinking to make predictions about who I am and what I do.

Well it sounds good doesn't it?  I think it will be more fun than a boring monologue and generate some interesting conversation.  So, the only question is, am I developing new and exciting ways to engage my students, or blatantly taking advantage of a captive audience to show off my vacation photos?