The Mercy's Conundrum

Sometimes it’s a little like being trapped in the highest tower of a medieval castle, having the gift of mercy.

The Bible tells us in 1 John 4:18-21, “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love. We love because He first loved us. If anyone says, ‘I love God,’ and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen. And this commandment we have from him: whoever loves God must also love his brother.”

Those verses are hard ones to hear this week, and they feel extraordinarily hard to practice in the current world of education, even in Christian schooling. It’s no secret that the world has tainted so much in recent years, so I suppose it should not be surprising that it’s put its stain even in places we thought were immune. The evening news has aired the stories of the sick, creepy teachers who have crossed boundaries with their students. It honestly turns my stomach every time I hear about these situations. Not only do I feel angry at those teachers and nauseated for those children, but I feel more and more chained and walled in myself.

I still remember interviewing for my current job and being clear about the fact that while I wanted to instill a love of literature in my potential students, I wanted to be able to have a ministry as well. Some of the best teachable moments I had earlier in my career had nothing to do with English. There have been opportunities to comfort a teen who has just lost a grandparent, to hear stories and offer encouragement in difficult home situations, to offer advice for college and to offer advice after they’ve gone to college. I’ve attended weddings and funerals on behalf of my students, and I’ve walked through a plethora of dating and relationship advice. We’ve had lunches and coffee dates and movie outings and family hang out time. I’ve been to Bible studies, sleepovers, senior trips, mission trips, and even flown to visit one or two away at college. Just the other night I spent an hour on Skype with one of my college girls encouraging her through some educational decisions. I couldn’t solve her problems for her, but I could listen and tell her how I struggled with many of the same choices when I was where she is now. These are the aspects of my job I truly love, or have loved.

In a more wandering blog a few weeks back, I pondered the aphorism, “Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.” I’ve often wondered if I gave up on some great awe-inspiring pontential career by choosing to teach. Could I have really written the “great British novel”? Maybe, but then I realized that by choosing to teach and affect young lives I could possibly have a greater impact. I can have a hand in making others successful if I let go of my own desire for personal success, and in the end I think that’s more rewarding. It’s a little like parenting in that respect.

Encouraging thoughts, right? In keeping with 1 John 4? Maybe. Satisfactory for a Christian with the gift of mercy? Should be. Yes, it should be, but lately it’s not.

Back to my original analogy of the castle tower. The world by and large has said caring about your students is weird and creepy and can get you in a whole lot of trouble. The response of authority figures in the world of Christian education? We should be “careful.” We should still feel free to mentor our students, but only within certain limits. Ok, the intellectual, logical side of me gets that, I do. But the mercy side has struggled. How do you care just a little? How do you build up a hedge of protection that doesn’t keep scratching you in the face?

I realize the last couple years I’ve been erecting walls that have turned into battlements that have turned into high towers in a castle surrounded by a moat…with alligators. The drawbridge only occasionally comes down; the gates open a crack here, or a crack there. Otherwise I find myself stuck behind walls I’ve built with stones of wit, and at times sarcasm, and sometimes just not being very nice. I’ve allowed myself to be scared into a retreat that for a mercy, has become a virtual prison. It’s easier to just let a student believe you don’t like them, than to risk them becoming your friend and having the world question that friendship.

If the fear with love doesn’t come from God, why do we surrender ourselves to that fear? I’m not afraid of loving my husband, my son, my other family members, my closest friends…but I feel I need to remain mute on the rest. And yet, 1 John 4:21 is clear that God commands us to love our brothers, for it is how we show that we love Him. The mercy’s conundrum: tearing down the walls and loving purely, completely, wisely and safely. So far I’m failing horribly, but then again, “…His anger is but for a moment, and His favor is for a lifetime. Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning” (Psalm 30:5)