Sheep, Wolf... or Sheepdog?

 This may step on a few toes, but I’m going to write it anyway.

I have carried a knife every day since I got my tote-em chip as a Cub Scout, some days I carry more than one.  I make some of the knives I carry.  Some were given to me by men I love and admire.  I carry them everywhere except into the courthouse when called for jury duty and while traveling on a plane.  (The first thing I do when I get off the plane is find a store and buy an inexpensive throw-away knife.) 

In the almost 50 years that I have carried a knife I have never used one in anger against another person. 

For the past 6 years I have legally carried a gun everywhere I go (except one place that’s not a courthouse or an airplane).  I carry one at home, on my property, in church, at the store, in restaurants, to my doctor’s office, to my dentist’s office, when I hike with my wife… you get the picture.  I practice regularly.  I spend a lot of money and time to make sure I am competent in the use of the firearms I carry.

I have never drawn my weapon in anger against another person.  

The one place I do not carry is at work.  You see, I am a teacher and though the law in my state says that I can choose to go through training and testing to make myself eligible to carry a weapon on my campus, so that, should the unthinkable happen I would be able to defend my students and teammates, I work for a superintendent and school board who have chosen to say no… you are not to do that.  I submit to their authority, as they are following the letter of the law and have chosen to lead in a way they feel is best... whether I agree with them or not.  Until that rule changes, I will protect my charges with whatever I have at hand.  If I must use a stool, a walking stick, or my bare hands, I will be their protector.  

All around the world, the unthinkable happens in places with restrictive gun laws.  People use knives, hammers, cars/trucks/vans, and their bare hands to kill other people.  They use lead pipes, candlesticks, ropes…. No this is not a game of clue, but I think you get the idea.  If LEGAL, LAW-ABIDING citizens who owned guns were the source of the problem the death toll from firearm use would be astronomically higher.  I am not the problem, and neither are the millions of other law-abiding citizens who own guns.  

The world is a fallen place and the heart of man is sinful and some men choose to put their desires before even the very lives of others.  Yes, I choose to believe that the 2 greatest laws in all the world are: 

-Love God

-Love people….

I choose, also, to exercise my 2nd amendment rights because, “to protect those I love I will do great and terrible things.”

I have heard this analogy often used to describe the role of the protector: In the world there are sheep, wolves and sheepdogs.  The sheep are helpless against the wolf.  There is no reasoning with the wolf.  The wolf cares nothing for the fact that the sheep belong to the shepherd.  The wolf wants only to feast upon the dead bodies of the sheep.  The wolf only flees when the sheepdog is present.  The wolf is an opportunist, he is not brave.  The sheepdog must be steadfast, for the wolf is ever on the prowl waiting for the sheepdog to turn his back.  Sometimes the sheep are afraid of the sheepdog, because he has teeth like the wolf and is fierce like the wolf, but the sheep run to the sheepdog when the wolf comes because he will always put himself between them and the wolf.   Which will you be….?  There is no middle ground.  The great song-smith and philosopher, Neil Peart, wrote; “If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice.”  

The man who shot his grandmother, and killed those kids and their teachers was a wolf… 

The man who walked into Parkland High and pulled the fire alarm to get victims into the halls was a wolf.

The man who killed the kids in Sandy Hook was a wolf.

Where were the sheepdogs???  We did not allow them to guard the sheep…  If the sheep are really important, we need to guard them.  The sheepdog will never harm the sheep, but he must have teeth and claws fierce enough to keep the wolf from acting on his murderous desires.

Created in His image....

 

The incident took less than 15 seconds from start to finish….

I took a long ride this Saturday, a loop through Downtown.  I rode from the house, east on 90, over to Tharpe St. and all the way to Monroe.  From there I planned to ride south on Monroe to Gaines, west to the stadium, and back out 20 to the house.  I tried to ride every day during the long spring and summer while I and many of my fellow teachers were stuck at home, and except for a few days here and there, and those days it rained, I accomplished that goal.  I was actually able to gradually work myself up week by week a mile at a time to a point where a 20+ mile ride is very do-able. 

For you veteran riders out there please understand, the last time I was on a bike I was dealing with long term chronic pain and ended my last ride a year and a half ago on the side of the road, after only 5 miles, in such severe pain that I was vomiting.  So now, when I’m on my bike riding again, I feel pretty good about myself.  I feel accomplished again.  With school back in play again I get to ride once or twice a week so I try to make it a good one when I get the chance to get out for a ride.  One of the things I like to do as I ride is to call out greetings to the people I pass along the way.  It makes me feel good when I get a smile or a wave back in reply.  It’s good to share a smile with a stranger.

So there I was about halfway through the ride coming into downtown Tallahassee.  I was getting stopped by lights and contending with traffic and distracted drivers, but having a great ride.  Up ahead, in front of the Chain of Parks, I caught site of protestors…  “This should be good,” I thought as I rode closer.  As I got closer I noticed that there was more than “a” protest going on, there were what look like from a distance a chain of protests, each with their own little cluster of people and signs.  Nothing in particular stood out to me as I passed by the line of sign-bearers… until I notice him.

He stood with his own group of fellow protestors, I won’t mention their name because it really isn’t any more or less important than the name of any of the other groups out that morning.  His skin glowed with the kind of ghostly hue of one who might be venturing out into the daylight for the first time, on purpose, in months.  He had a softness that hung about him which spoke of a life totally unfamiliar with the concept of hard work.  In his hands was a sign with the words, “WE ARE RELENTLESS,” written out in uneven block letters.  (I admit that I spell-checked it as I took in the scene.)  I started to giggle… “Relentless about getting to the fridge.”  At first it was a private snigger, but then I began to giggle out loud, shaking my head and smiling from ear to ear at the sight of this clueless little marshmallow with the sign.  As I passed the protestors I called out a few greetings and salutations and I made a point of making eye-contact with Mr. Relentless and giggled through a hearty, “have a GREAT day,” as I went past him.  “What a maroon,” my inner Bugs Bunny said…

Again, the whole thing lasted 10 or 15 seconds, an almost insignificant amount of time.  As I rode on, my giddiness changed to shame as I remembered the he too was created in God’s image.

Grace for ALL

 The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all. Amen.  Rev 22:21

Literally the last words in the Bible.  Is this a command, a promise, or a model for life?  Yes.

We were blessed this morning with a word from our pastor about the final 2 chapters in the Bible, speaking about those we will find there.  Much was shared about the light we'll find in Heaven, about the saints we miss and look forward to seeing and about the Heavenly beings (the angels, seraphim and cheruim) and then he closed with the final verse in the Bible.  

Listen to the words slowly......   The GRACE... of The LORD Jesus... be... with ALL.   Amen (may it be so).  

I must admit that both my wife and I jumped to referencing Captain Picard ending a command statement with, "make it so."  Funny, we chuckled to each other.  But what if that was really what it meant?  Are the final words in the Bible a command statement?  And if this is the case, how do we, "make it so?"  How do we make available the Grace of the Lord Jesus to all?  

Step one I think is remembering that it was made available to us, to me.... you.  Be honest right now, there was no good reason for you to be saved, you were a sinner, a liar and unworthy of grace.  I can say this because I know that I was not worthy.  I sometimes ponder the goodness and mercy of God to have saved me.  The moment I forget this fact I find myself being judgmental of others and the Spirit steps in, using various means, to remind me of who I am... the adopted son of God.  I was chosen by Him to receive His grace which He freely makes available.... to all.  

Step 2 is to remember that because He overlooked my unrighteousness, I am to overlook the same in others when showing grace, mercy and when opportunity presents itself to share the gospel unselfishly.  Jesus went to prepare a place for me in His Father's house, could he not then also prepare a place for another unworthy soul; of course he could.  

step 3 is to make it so.  I don't have to pray about it, He's already commanded it multiple times.  I don't need to ask for clarification, He said to go to my neighbor and to the whole world.  I don't need to ask for an example, His proverbs told us long ago what the Kingdom of Heaven is like.  I was the 100th sheep, I was the leper washed clean.  I need to act on it, keeping my eyes open for His next sheep, His next leper.  

Love Thine Enemy.....

Matthew 5:44-47

But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you;

That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.

For if ye love them which love you, what reward have ye? do not even the publicans the same?

And if ye salute your brethren only, what do ye more than others? do not even the publicans so?

I had a terrible thought, 2 really, that came to my mind in the past 3 or 4 days.  They're political thoughts, so if you ain't in for that kind of thing, cut out now.  I've been taking in all this vocal effluence in over the past few weeks concerning the COVID deaths and the Presidential campaigns and all the little ways the media overlords are trying to twist public opinion one way or the other.   My wife is very good at reminding me as I argue or present a point during a family meal or in a small-group setting that my points may be valid and true, but there are any number of opposing points from the other side of the argument that are valid and true as well.  And she is right, in fact it's that exact counsel that exploded behind my eyeballs when these two thoughts finally clarified in my mind.  

Yes I am one of those guys who thinks the media is out to hoodwink us all.  I believe they take sides and purposely miss-inform and under-inform the public in order to drive the dollar signs up in their ratings.  I can't listen to network news without rebutting the on-air personality as though they were in my living room.  Opinion matters, though it may be wrong or skewed or misinformed, it matters.

Love your enemies...

The first thought focuses on the terrible thing has happened in the state of New York, thousands of old folds and sick folks living in rehab centers and nursing homes have died because the State of NY opted to send patients WITH COVID to those places to finish their recovery process once they were over the danger hump.  Most of those patients who were moved to the places where old and sick people died got better and went home, but the  old folks who lived there, who were spending their last months and years of life there suddenly found that those months and years turned to weeks and days when they were taken by the much feared disease.  Many of these elderly patients never got a chance to see their families again because of the "safety" rules put into place by the medical boards and the State.  Many died alone, scared and confused.  Many died WELL before their time.  This point was driven home by a story from NY about a Mrs. Janice Dean, who lost both of her in-laws, a couple married for almost 60 years, after first the wife, then the husband, contracted COVID when their nursing home was used to house infected patients.  She called out the Governor of the state for his buck-passing and politicizing of the death rates in the nursing homes.  She pointed out that he never once voiced the fact that it was his executive order that moved the infected patients to places where the MOST at risk populations could be found.  Right after reading her story I read that the US Navy Hospital Ship Mercy was leaving NY because it was not being used, and the Javits Center temporary field hospital is closing down because it was not being used....   A terrible thought struck me as I finished the second story, "I'll bet that lousy good-for-nothing Cuomo didn't use the hospitals provided by the Federal Government via the Military because he didn't want to give Trump ANY opportunity at receiving good press.  He sent those COVID patients to the nursing homes KNOWING old people would died by the thousands all because HE WANTED TO WIN some stupid political game of "Who Has The Biggest Set!""  In that moment I wanted him to die.... I raged in my heart that HE should be tied to a bed in one of those nursing homes in a room FILLED with COVID patients and be left to suffer the consequences he forced on thousands of families....   I HATED HIM.

The second thought that hit me a day later was concerning Joe Biden.  It was on the day he uttered the words that probably cemented Donald Trump's second term as POTUS.  During an interview on a nationally syndicated radio show, he closed the interview (because HE was pressed for time even though the host had many more questions for him) by telling the host, "If you have a problem figuring out if you're for me or Trump, YOU AIN"T BLACK."  "Ouch," I thought, "that's gonna leave a mark.  How are his "handlers" going to handle this one?"  Joe Biden has a history of saying the wrong thing at the worst time, and at first I just tossed that one into the Homer Simpson file of fame.  "Biden is SUCH an idiot," I thought to myself... I may have even said it out loud.  As I pondered Biden's latest gaffe, I soon found myself pitying the man.  He can't continue this fight.  As we sit and watch, his entire list of life accomplishments is being covered up by a series of mental lapses in judgement that always seem to happen on tape.  "The man is being used by his own Party," I thought.  "They are going to ride him until he is spent and useless to them and they'll finish him off publicly at the Convention in as shameful a way as they can, by either dumping him for a "surprise" candidate or tying him to the greatest political failure in modern history..."  and at that moment I pitied the poor schmuck.

Yesterday I got to pondering these two things; my hatred for Cuomo (based on my unprovable theory) and my pity for a man I do not respect in the least.  And that's when the words of Matthew 5 spoke to me.  I was the pharisee, the publican, the hypocrite (depending on your translation).  I was ready to curse these men, I was ready to hate them in my heart, but had I prayed for them?  I was guilty of choosing whether they were worthy of redemption. I wept, for I was ashamed.  As I prayed for them to find true peace,  I hated and pitied myself.  

I'm glad no one made that choice about me 30 years ago when I was a different man. 

My Purpose

As a believer in Christ, my purpose is explained in the 1st question and answer of the Westminster Shorter Catechism....  What is the chief end of man?  To glorify God and enjoy Him forever.

As a Husband to my wife, my purpose is clearly explained in Ephesians chapter 3....  Love her, as Christ loved the church, giving Himself for her even unto death.  Oh, how I love her.

As a father my purpose is clearly given throughout the Proverbs.  To raise my children in fear and reverence of the Lord and to cultivate in them wisdom which flows from my own growing understanding of God's amazing word.   To love, encourage and correct them in love and in the light of God's calling given to each father.  To love them when they are triumphant and when they fail.  To love their mother, giving constant witness of that love to them. 

As a teacher.... that is where I now find myself immersed in a quagmire of confusion.  All that I do has fallen before closed eyes and ears.  Mercy seems an outcast and Wisdom seems a stranger in schools today.  How do I hold on to my purpose when all that I have ever used to muster myself to the call seems to be valueless to those to whom I call out?

Revive me, oh God.  I have no strength to fight.  Revive me....

Still Searching....

What am I called to be?  Each of us is specifically skilled to do something.  I teach, at least I did.  What am I doing now; is it baby-sitting, crowd control, molding minds, cultivating citizens? Is it teaching?  Is this teaching now? Is this what I have to look forward to for the next few years if I continue acting on this calling?  Will it change my standards for them?  Will I begin to incrementally give in?  I hope not.  I pray not.  Hold fast..... Stand firm... Pray for help.

It will not return void.....

Isaiah 55:10-11 says

For as the rain cometh down, and the snow from heaven, and returneth not thither, but watereth the earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower, and bread to the eater:

So shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it.

I have been weeping over these words today.  Three times today I have broken down in tears thinking of these words.  Why?  I am a teacher, so these words hold a special place in my heart, in my calling.  The possibility each day that something I do or say might change the thinking of a young mind, leading the learner to a better outcome than the trajectory on which they are currently is often what gets me out of bed.  Teaching is different than when I started in 1989, it's different than when I started anew in 2008, and not different in a good way.  

So why weep, why not just do something else?  Because I must do what I am called to do.  I cannot run from what I am called to do (more on that later).  Every good teacher that I have known has one thing in common; a desire to improve the life of children.  That is not to say that all children are in a miserable state, it speaks to seeding their future with tools they can use to reap future successes and experience that future in a deeper way.  I find myself more and more often looking into the eyes of my skilled fellows, women and men of passion and empathy, and seeing dejection, disillusion and despair.  Yes, everyone goes through hard moments, but seek out a group of teachers and ask them what they place their hope meters at.  The answers you get will show a dark level of morale.  But ask them what make them keep coming back every day and the answers will be all about the kids.  

So why am I weeping.....?  I don't see the promise of a harvest the way I did in years past.  I see fields of young minds stagnant and rotting.  Too many are in the classroom because they have to be.  These see no problem with trading 7 hours of their life for nothing; new knowledge holds no value to them.  Many have given up caring about their academic rights after being forced to live years with the first group, made to be tolerant of the daily drain of time caused by miscreant classmates whose right to waste precious classroom time is more important than their right to be enriched.  A growing group are the ones whose parents either do not respond to your suggestions meant to aid or lay the blame for 10 years of poor parenting on you the teacher who has been in the child's life for mere months; those children who move through their 7 hours with you like dark eyed ghosts or empty shells who have already given up on life.  I weep because that group in the middle, the ones I can reach are torn from me by the first, and because the last group cannot hear from my lips the words they really need to hear; that they are preciously made, valued and loved by God and therefore loved by me.  I weep because that first group is too often the focus of a darkness that I would rather deny exists within my own heart and because they refuse to take my hand, the very same hand that I will offer to them every day knowing that it will be rejected.  I weep because our culture has turned our 10 year-old children into something that resembles angry cast members from the Jerry Springer Show.  I weep because I don't see the harvest any more.  

I keep going, each day, because I have hope there will be a harvest, that somehow, in spite of the current struggles, seeds have found fertile ground, taken root and will grow and prosper despite what I fear.  I open the door to my classroom in the dark each morning, before most people are even out of bed, because I hope that today I will see signs of a harvest.  I prepare my classroom each morning to make wise use of every minute because of a hope that one student, once entangled by the vines of ignorance, will be able to break free from the darkness and begin to produce the fruit of knowledge.  I keep striving because I have a promise that a harvest will occur.

Yes, I believe I am called to be a teacher.  I have run from God's callings in the past, and always I end up right where He wants me.... eventually.  Often my running is because I don't see the logic in the calling.  I run to avoid that which I fear or find uncomfortable.  I have found that I most often run from that which I am called to do.   So for every excuse that my heart tries to use to keep me from teaching, I must remind my heart that it is this struggle for which I was made.  

Verses 8 and 9 say:  For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord.  For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.  It is this that I tell myself in the morning as I step in front of the bathroom mirror, during the struggle in the middle of class, in the afternoon when I am home alone weeping over failures from the day, and at 3 in the morning when I wake up afraid, full of doubt.  It is this upon which my hopes rest,  hoping for the harvest today, being aware that I may never see that harvest, but knowing that if I speak truth the harvest will come. 

Verse 11 says,   So shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it.  So shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth: it shall not return unto me void, but it shall accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper in the thing whereto I sent it.  

So what am I to do?  I will go forth.  I will heed the call.  I will trust my God.  His word will not return void.