I am currently sitting on an armchair watching my niece and nephew play wrestle with my nephew's bowler hat. The hat that he informs me I don't wear "right" (silly hair... I should just chop it all off and then I could wear the aforementioned chapeau). The two of them are giggling away, excitement building over the night ahead of us. My brother and sister-in-law are making homemade pizza (actually, it was a group adventure of grating, chopping, and drinking pineapple juice), and once it is ready the five us will be nestling down in the living room for an evening of Avatar: The Last Airbender. I'm pretty excited about this night :)
This last week has been wonderful. I spent it at my practicum school which is a fantastic place. The staff is incredibly welcoming and my SA (School Associate--the teacher overseeing my in my practicum) has a very similar personality and teaching style to me which I think will work well. And several of the other student teachers are a little jealous because of my SA.
It was amazing to be in a school again. I gained so many ideas for things to try in my own classroom, and I can hardly wait until my short practicum begins in two weeks. Then I will get to spend four weeks in the school and will actually get to do some teaching. Which I am nervous about, but I know the sooner I start the more comfortable I will feel. I have the material for my first lesson and have to spend the the next two weeks reading The Lord of the Flies. I had a wee bit of a shock when I realized just how many years had passed since I was in grade 11 and read that novel.
Words truly cannot begin to describe the peace that has flooded me this weekend. The week had some rough moments of stress, what with being in my school and adjusting to those new surroundings. I think one of my dreams perhaps best shows the strange mixture of excitement and stress that was my mind.
Take a moment and picture the following scene:
I have been put in prison (strangely, prison resembles my parents' lovely dining room... go figure). This is no solitary confinement, however, for I have a prisonmate in the form of Samuel L. Jackson (not sure why he was in my dream, but in it he was). The two of were given incredibly deadly, lethal looking blades and were to take part in a contest, the winner of which would be given a "Get out of Jail Free" card. What was the contest, you may ask? It was a leg-shaving contest. Whichever of us could get the smoother shave on our legs would be the winner. Samuel was pretty certain he would beat me. He had been practicing.
I woke up before I discovered the better leg-shaverer.
Believe me, I have been trying to think of some deeply spiritual meaning that I could pull from this dream. Sadly I've got nothing beyond the fact that I should continue to shave my legs everyday because I never know when such a skill will get me out of prison.
Yet despite the stress and anxiety, this week has ended with peace.
This morning I read a few things during my devotions that really caught my attention. In The Everlasting Man by G.K. Chesterton, I am working through a chapter entitled "The Strangest Story in the World," by which he is referring to the story of Christ. I am going to share a section with you that took my breath away.
"The primary thing that he [Christ] was going to do was die. He was going to do other things equally definite and objective; we might almost say equally external and material. But from first to last the most definite fact is that he is going to die... We are meant to feel that Death was the bride of Christ as Poverty was the bride of St. Francis. We are meant to feel that his life was in that sense a sort of love affair with death, a romance of the pursuit of the ultimate sacrifice. From the moment when the star goes up like a birthday rocket to the moment when the sun is extinguished like a funeral torch, the whole story moves on wings with the speed and direction of a drama, ending in an act beyond words.
"Therefore the story of Christ is the story of a journey, almost in the manner of a military march; certainly in the manner of the quest of a hero moving to his achievement or his doom."
After this, Chesteron goes on to compare the life of Christ with other epic tales or stories told of great philosophers. He mentions Apollonius, the supposed "ideal philosopher" who, when brought before the judgment seat vanished through magic. To this Chesterton replies:
"Jesus of Nazareth was less prudent in his miracles. When Jesus was brought before the judgment seat of Pontius Pilate, he did not vanish. It was the crisis and the goal; it was the hour and the power of darkness. It was the supremely supernatural act, of all his miraculous life, that he did not vanish."
Reading these portions of the book I found myself taken back to this last winter and spring. I recall the times when Christ revealed Himself to me as my Hero. I remember how He pursued me, how loved He made me feel, the care and the time that He took for me, the way He made my world come alive.
And perhaps that is the best way to describe how I have felt these months since leaving school in the spring. My world has seemed to lack that supernatural brightness. I suppose I allowed myself to become less aware. It was as if I had forgotten that, as the Heidelberg Catechism states, "Even though my conscience accuses me of having grievously sinned against all God's commandments and of never having kept any of them, and even though I am still inclinded toward all evil, nevertheless, without my deserving it at all, our of sheer grace, God grants and credits to me the perfect satisfaction, righteousness, and holiness of Christ, as if I had never sinned nor been a sinner, as if I had been as perfectly obedient as Christ was obedient for me."
I have been having a hard time putting my finger on why this week seemed filled with just a little more peace. Why, despite the stress and the worry, I could hear a Voice talking me through it all and I was able to listen to that Voice. While doing my devotions this morning, I think I found my answer.
I'm beginning to remember. I'm not just looking back and thinking, "Oh wow, God really showed me some cool stuff," which I think was a bit of my problem this summer. I kept looking back but not allowing what happened then to affect me in the now. I'm in a new situation right now, dealing with completely different things, but God has not changed. He is taking the time to show me, yet again, that He is my Hero. He is reminding me of all He has done, while showing me that He is not done teaching and leading me. I suppose I just needed a little reminder of who of Hero really is.
This is my story.
This last week has been wonderful. I spent it at my practicum school which is a fantastic place. The staff is incredibly welcoming and my SA (School Associate--the teacher overseeing my in my practicum) has a very similar personality and teaching style to me which I think will work well. And several of the other student teachers are a little jealous because of my SA.
It was amazing to be in a school again. I gained so many ideas for things to try in my own classroom, and I can hardly wait until my short practicum begins in two weeks. Then I will get to spend four weeks in the school and will actually get to do some teaching. Which I am nervous about, but I know the sooner I start the more comfortable I will feel. I have the material for my first lesson and have to spend the the next two weeks reading The Lord of the Flies. I had a wee bit of a shock when I realized just how many years had passed since I was in grade 11 and read that novel.
Words truly cannot begin to describe the peace that has flooded me this weekend. The week had some rough moments of stress, what with being in my school and adjusting to those new surroundings. I think one of my dreams perhaps best shows the strange mixture of excitement and stress that was my mind.
Take a moment and picture the following scene:
I have been put in prison (strangely, prison resembles my parents' lovely dining room... go figure). This is no solitary confinement, however, for I have a prisonmate in the form of Samuel L. Jackson (not sure why he was in my dream, but in it he was). The two of were given incredibly deadly, lethal looking blades and were to take part in a contest, the winner of which would be given a "Get out of Jail Free" card. What was the contest, you may ask? It was a leg-shaving contest. Whichever of us could get the smoother shave on our legs would be the winner. Samuel was pretty certain he would beat me. He had been practicing.
I woke up before I discovered the better leg-shaverer.
Believe me, I have been trying to think of some deeply spiritual meaning that I could pull from this dream. Sadly I've got nothing beyond the fact that I should continue to shave my legs everyday because I never know when such a skill will get me out of prison.
Yet despite the stress and anxiety, this week has ended with peace.
This morning I read a few things during my devotions that really caught my attention. In The Everlasting Man by G.K. Chesterton, I am working through a chapter entitled "The Strangest Story in the World," by which he is referring to the story of Christ. I am going to share a section with you that took my breath away.
"The primary thing that he [Christ] was going to do was die. He was going to do other things equally definite and objective; we might almost say equally external and material. But from first to last the most definite fact is that he is going to die... We are meant to feel that Death was the bride of Christ as Poverty was the bride of St. Francis. We are meant to feel that his life was in that sense a sort of love affair with death, a romance of the pursuit of the ultimate sacrifice. From the moment when the star goes up like a birthday rocket to the moment when the sun is extinguished like a funeral torch, the whole story moves on wings with the speed and direction of a drama, ending in an act beyond words.
"Therefore the story of Christ is the story of a journey, almost in the manner of a military march; certainly in the manner of the quest of a hero moving to his achievement or his doom."
After this, Chesteron goes on to compare the life of Christ with other epic tales or stories told of great philosophers. He mentions Apollonius, the supposed "ideal philosopher" who, when brought before the judgment seat vanished through magic. To this Chesterton replies:
"Jesus of Nazareth was less prudent in his miracles. When Jesus was brought before the judgment seat of Pontius Pilate, he did not vanish. It was the crisis and the goal; it was the hour and the power of darkness. It was the supremely supernatural act, of all his miraculous life, that he did not vanish."
Reading these portions of the book I found myself taken back to this last winter and spring. I recall the times when Christ revealed Himself to me as my Hero. I remember how He pursued me, how loved He made me feel, the care and the time that He took for me, the way He made my world come alive.
And perhaps that is the best way to describe how I have felt these months since leaving school in the spring. My world has seemed to lack that supernatural brightness. I suppose I allowed myself to become less aware. It was as if I had forgotten that, as the Heidelberg Catechism states, "Even though my conscience accuses me of having grievously sinned against all God's commandments and of never having kept any of them, and even though I am still inclinded toward all evil, nevertheless, without my deserving it at all, our of sheer grace, God grants and credits to me the perfect satisfaction, righteousness, and holiness of Christ, as if I had never sinned nor been a sinner, as if I had been as perfectly obedient as Christ was obedient for me."
I have been having a hard time putting my finger on why this week seemed filled with just a little more peace. Why, despite the stress and the worry, I could hear a Voice talking me through it all and I was able to listen to that Voice. While doing my devotions this morning, I think I found my answer.
I'm beginning to remember. I'm not just looking back and thinking, "Oh wow, God really showed me some cool stuff," which I think was a bit of my problem this summer. I kept looking back but not allowing what happened then to affect me in the now. I'm in a new situation right now, dealing with completely different things, but God has not changed. He is taking the time to show me, yet again, that He is my Hero. He is reminding me of all He has done, while showing me that He is not done teaching and leading me. I suppose I just needed a little reminder of who of Hero really is.
This is my story.
Hi,
ReplyDeleteIf we're going to have an amazing connection with Christ now, then like St Francis, we have to turn to Death as our (metaphorical) Brother!
It is only through the door of Death, that we can enter into eternal life with Christ (please God). This is what this life is, ultimately, all about. But we should try our best to experience the heavenly of the Divine now, which is, of course, tied up with carrying our crosses in imitation of the Cross. Where there is joy and suffering, both (but doesn't Jesus also say our burdens are light when we follow God).
Rather than something spooky, Death is something beautiful (please God).
God bless,
Ed (UK)