When the LIVING the Gospel is Hard in the Classroom

I teach three sections of a public school 8th grade Spanish 1 class. I am also a 7th and 8th grade volleyball, basketball, and track coach. My days are busy. I coach in sweats, change into professional clothes, sometimes head to sponsor Spanish Club or FCA (Fellowship of Christian Athletes), use my planning period (usually fixing the copier), teach 3 classes, run to the gym, change back into sweats, and coach again. It is the most interesting and most difficult job I have ever had.  I started the year, as most teachers do, with extreme optimism, thinking of all of the way that I was going to be able to "make an impact," to "show them Jesus," "to get my students pumped about learning Spanish." As the year has gone on, one of my classes has become increasingly difficult to deal with.

Let me give some perspective. In each of my classes, I have a "tally" system, where if the students listen to directions, complete work quietly, and give me their attention when I ask for it, they earn a tally. When they get to five tallies, they receive a reward. We have played soccer, done a drawing for a gift card, and, this past week, every class (except this class in particular) watched the movie Selena and ate popcorn and candy.

This class {barely} received 3 tallies this time around. It has been a daily struggle. When I ask them to complete work quietly, they immediately begin talking to their neighbor about almost anything else. Several students claim they don't understand a single word on the paper given to them (even though these are words on a vocabulary list that we have been studying for weeks). Others simply refuse to work, putting their heads on their desks. Some ask to go to the bathroom to get out of doing their work, to which I respond, "No, you haven't started your work." You can imagine their responses. Many of them roll their eyes as I ask them to put their phones away. Still others quietly get to work, trying their best to do the work that is required to acquire a new language.


I came to a breaking point last week. The lesson I had prepared was entirely too difficult, especially for this class. I asked them to use highlighters. Some of them were throwing them, some drawing on their faces (remember, these are EIGHTH GRADERS), others trying to do their work (but doing it incorrectly and getting frustrated).  I tried to reexplain, but that did not work. I finally decided to just give them the answers so that we could work through it together after. But as I was reading the answers, 80% of the students were looking around the room with blank faces, acting like they had no idea what was going on. I looked at one student in particular and said, "WHY ARE YOU NOT WRITING ANYTHING DOWN!!!" I hadn't yet realized that students had drawn on their faces.

That, clearly, is what set me over the edge. I went to the bag of highlighters, angrily grabbed them, and, as the bell rang, I said, "BYE," in a voice that was 90% angry mom and 10% sarcastic valley girl. 

Needless to say, I was not happy. In fact, I started to cry IN THE HALLWAY (insert embarrassed emoji) to one of my coworkers. She (thank the LORD) led me into her office and let me cry and told me some stuff about how everyone has bad classes and I'm not the only one and it's not all my fault. I thanked her, went to the track to coach my girls, and decided to run the mile with them to get some anger out and clear my head. 

That helped a little. But this issue in this particular class has been a problem since we got back from Christmas break (that's LONG in school time, people). It has seemed as though it would never go away. I found myself asking God why the heck he was letting this go on for so long and asking him why he wouldn't just take it away. Why couldn't these children just listen? Why didn't they respect me? Why was I not making an impact? Why do are You setting me up to make me feel like I'm failing at the ONE THING I'm actually good at? 

It's not that I hadn't been asking for God's help before. I have been. The entire year. Last week, I wrote to Him about it. And I felt like I should write my students a letter. I wrote them a letter declaring that I loved them, even though that our class was hard. I wrote every student's name down and next to it what I loved about them. I told them that I would make mistakes and that I hoped that they would forgive me, but I also said that I was going to continue to fight to teach them and to hold them accountable for their actions. Because the moment I stop doing that is the moment that I give up on them. 

That did approximately nothing to help the situation at hand. I felt helpless, hopeless - like nothing would help this class. I felt stuck.

Then, Friday happened. I had wondered all night and all day about what I should do. One of my coworkers, the same one who pushed me in the office when I was crying, suggested that I just show them the movie. "It would be easier for them AND for you. It would give you all a break." Another coworker said, "Yeah, give them a little grace." 

GRACE?! I thought "I've already shown them TOO MUCH grace!" I said, without even thinking. 

Too much grace? Did God show us too much grace when He sent Jesus, the King of the World, to be born as a helpless child? Did God show us too much grace when He healed the sick and gave rest to the weary and called out to the poor and the helpless and the ashamed and the outcasts? Did God show us too much grace when He sent His very own Son to the Cross, the Son who knew no sin, to die for the World that broke His heart? 

Yes. He did. He showed us too much grace. 

I showed the movie. 

Of course, we had a talk first. I said this, "Guys, yesterday was a disaster. I planned an activity that was too difficult for you guys. I am sorry. I hope you can forgive me. But then you guys didn't cooperate. You talked when I asked you not to. You drew on your faces with markers. You didn't listen when I was trying to give you the answers. Do I think you deserve to watch the movie? No, I really don't. (Some students even chimed in here - saying, "No way!" and "No, especially not me.")  You guys have had countless opportunities to earn tallies - even EASY tallies - and you basically throw them away. However, do I believe in grace? Yes, I do." 

Student: "What's grace?" 

Me: "Grace is getting something you don't deserve." 

Student: "I thought that was mercy." 

Me *in my head* WHAT IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?? 

Me *out loud*: "Yeah, well they're actually a little different." 

I had a total blank on the definition of mercy. So, a student looked it up for me: 

Student: " Mercy is compassion or forgiveness shown toward someone whom it is within one's power to punish or harm." 

Another student: Like in movies, when someone says, "Have mercy!" when they are about to be shot!

Me: Yes, exactly like that. So, grace and mercy are kind of intertwined. So, we're going to watch the movie.

We watched the movie. They were quiet. They asked questions, but respectfully. They left with smiles on their faces, giving me a high-five on their way out the door as I told them to have a great Spring Break. The joy in my heart was unspeakable. 

The Gospel - that good stuff - is so beautiful. It's so wonderful to know the redemption and the grace and the mercy and the LOVE of our Lord Jesus Christ. 

But knowing where we've come from - from hardship, pain, disrespect for authority, chaos - is the only way we can understand how GOOD the Grace is and how much BETTER our Father is. 

It's hard to live the Gospel. It's hard to show grace when they just REALLY don't deserve it. But we really didn't deserve it either, and our Wonderful Father gave it to us! 

And when we do that for others, His beauty shines right through us, like a light in the darkness, like quiet in the chaos. 

Even when it doesn't feel like it. Even then. 

I'm Afraid to Read my Bible

Oh, you know this picture - the Coffee and the Word. It's been a trend on Instagram since the start of this (in my humble opinion) wonderful social media avenue.  I see these pictures and I think, Man - that person has a cool coffee cup. It's got that earthy-but-I'm-not-trying-to-be color scheme. It looks like this person is really enjoying reading the Bible. It looks like they're so peaceful and so joyful and so refreshed- they must be so peaceful and joyful and refreshed if they're posting a picture like this." 

And in my heart and in my mind, I am jealous of this person. Because, for a long time, reading my Bible has, in many ways, not been easy. I have often not enjoyed it. I have opened it thinking, "Oh, I hope there's nothing too confusing today."  I have (wrongly) become internally angry when people ask me, "What have you been reading in the Bible?"  I have felt heart-wrenched and uncertain and downright confused to the point of extreme anxiety. And I think to myself, Man - I really want to enjoy reading the Bible. I really want to be so peaceful and so joyful and so refreshed after reading God's word. 

But I have not been. 

Looking at my journal from over the past year, these excerpts about sum it up: 

Aug. 23, 2014 - God, Your Word doesn't feel good right now. It feels difficult and heavy.

Sept. 9, 2014 - I come to You, Lord, with a heavy heart. I am frustrated and worried and sad and uncertain, and I honestly could throw up.

Nov. 13th, 2014 - Actually, probably 9.5 times out of 10 I am CONFUSED. I'm confused about life. And denominations. I'm confused why life for me is awesome but life for others sucks. I'm confused why people aren't honest about their doubts and their shortcomings. Especially Christians. I'm confused why You would even create us if you knew we were going to suck this bad. 

Dec.  30th, 2014 - God, is it okay that I might be wrong? I'm just so worried that I am wrong. 

Feb. 19th, 2015 - God, I hate that I haven't been trusting You, that I've been cynical of Your Word. Every time I approach the Bible, it's not to receive life...it's to determine what stance I take on certain theological arguments.

I am not sure where this anxiety has come from. 

I don't know if it's my desire to always know more about what others believe.

I don't know if it's my Biblical education at Cedarville. 

I don't know if it's Christians' turn towards more in-depth theology and doctrine. 

I don't know if it's the devil creepin' at my door, trying to lie and steal and destroy. (most likely this one)

** Disclaimer - I am not saying that any of the above things in and of themselves are bad or wrong or even hurtful. I am just saying that these are possible contributions to my confusion.**

What I do know is that the Bible is a book that explains the transforming nature of the Gospel - how through Jesus, we are transformed from ALIENS and ENEMIES to RECONCILED and HOLY CHILDREN. 

Colossians 3:21-22

Once your were alienated from God and were enemies in your minds because of your evil behavior. But now he has reconciled you by Christ's physical body through death to present you holy in His sight, without blemish and free from accusation. 

Romans 8:15

For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but your received the Spirit of sonship. And by Him we cry, "Abba, Father."  

What I do know is that if I am broken and hurt and confused and weary, then I am more likely to RUN to JESUS for REST!! If I am burdened, I am in the perfect place to understand my need of Jesus - my need for His easy yoke, for His light burden, for His rest, for His gentleness, for His humble heart. 

Matthew 11:28-30

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. 

What I do know is that even if my circumstances suck and my mind is confused and my heart is torn, God has provided salvation for those (including me!) who believe that God's Son, Jesus, died on the Cross for our sins and rose again because "it was impossible for death to keep its hold on Him." (Acts 2:24b). 

And now it's impossible for death to keep its hold on US!

Through the confusion and through the pain and through the evil schemes of the devil and through the trials, 

WE ARE CONQUERORS IN JESUS. - Romans 8:37 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us

WE HAVE VICTORY IN JESUS. - 1 Corinthians 15:54-55 When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the moral with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: "Death has been swallowed up in VICTORY."

"Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?" 

I am not sure that my confusion and my anxiety will go away in this lifetime. But I am sure of the Hope that is in Jesus and His life, death, and resurrection. I can read my Bible, knowing that I might not come out of it with all of the answers, but I will come out of it with a deep dependence on my Savior and a hunger to serve Him and others better. 

K, peace out homies. 

Why Taylor Swift is My Girl

Say what you want, Taylor Swift is my girl.

As I entered in the scary world of high school, she made me feel like I wasn't the only one who obsessed over boys who would never like me back in Teardrops on my Guitar. 

Towards the end of high school, she inspired me to dance in the rain in my best dress, though I wasn't quite as Fearless as she proclaimed to be.

When I experienced the awkwardness of my first year of college, Tay was there, narrating my life through her album Speak Now. (I may or may not have bawled my eyes out to Dear John while at the same time mesmerized that Taylor somehow helped me deal with crap that I didn't want to deal with.)

And then, RED. My college roommate, Megan, and I skipped classes to go get it the morning it came out, and I listened to the CD all the way to King's Island with my now-husband the first time we ever hung out. She rocked my world with her pretty duets and her new beats and her deliberate lyrics. She also sang me happy birthday, which I wasn't mad about.

As if she wasn't real (and cool) enough, she then decided to make 1989, which is basically her diary of the "new style of music" that she had "woken up every day not wanting, but needing to write." She's changing and becoming the person she wants to be, and she's telling us all about it with sick (newer) beats and raw honesty in 1989. 

I'm not as weirdly obsessed with Taylor Swift as you may think based on this post. I just really like when people are honest - 

when they tell what they're doing 

and who they are 

and who they wanted to become but didn't 

and where they wanted to go and went

and of the love and joy that they desire and occasionally obtain

and of the hurt and sorrow that brings them down, reminding them of their humanness 

And she's not stopping anytime soon (or at least I hope so)

There is this one song - Out of the Woods. I didn't get it at first, but it really interested me. 

She sings: 

Are we out of the woods yet?

Are we out of the woods yet? 

Are we out of the woods yet? 

Are we out of the woods? 

Are we in the clear yet? 

Are we in the clear yet? 

Are we in the clear yet? 

In the clear yet? Good. 

I don't know Taylor, but I like to read the little note she writes on the inside of her album cover. Here is an excerpt: 

I wrote about looking back on a lost love and understanding that nothing good comes without loss and hardship and constant struggle. There is no "riding off into the sunset," like I used to imagine. We are never out of the woods, because we are always going to be fighting for something.

After about 30 listens and reading her note, I realized that she's talking about a relationship of extremes, of seasons - a relationship that goes from the exciting OH MY WORD I LOVE YOU, LET ME KISS YOUR FACE to the heartbreaking I'm leaving you because you weren't good enough to fight for. 

Even the fabulous Taylor Swift admits that we always think we have a chance at love, but we're really just "two paper airplanes flying." We think that we have the ability and potential to reach great heights, to fly in the clouds. But we're really just replicas - just paper-crafted creations. We really don't have the potential to reach anywhere but down; to fly anywhere but the carpeted floor two feet away from the take-off. We're never really out of the woods. 

Depressing. 

It is depressing. It's sad to think that our relationships, jobs, husbands, kids, dinners, cookies, brownies, bodies, grades will never measure up. They won't be what we conjured them up to be - heck, they won't even come close. We are mere replicas of what we were created to be. Taylor is yearning to be out of the woods, and so am I. So is creation. So is everybody. 

We all want to be in the clear. 

I don't know about you, but the longer I'm in these woods, the more I realize that I can't get out on my own. Even with my Katniss-like skillz, I would not be able to get out of 

We can't get out of the woods on our own. We can't make it to the clear. No matter how hard we try, we can't rid ourselves of the poverty, sex trafficking, unrealistic expectations, selfishness, gossip, complaining mouths, complaining hearts, suffering, confusion, doubt, death. 

We need a Rescuer. We need Someone willing to come in, wade through the brush,

My hope is in the fact that Jesus is going to redeem - that He will set the slaves free - that he will set the world right. He promises to, and I don't know how he's going to, and sometimes I don't trust that He will, and sometimes I just can't see how the suffering that I see and the suffering that is hidden from my eyes could be part of His plan. 

But I hope. 

Because He's been Faithful, and He'll continue to be Faithful. 

He will...lead us out of the woods (SORRY I HAD TO) 

And I want Taylor to know that. 

I want everyone to know that.

I want everyone to know Him.

Jesus.

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the anxious longing of the creation waits eagerly for the revealing of the sons of God.  For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it, [i]in hope that the creation itself also will be set free from its slavery to corruption into the freedom of the glory of the children of God. 22 For we know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now. And not only this, but also we ourselves, having the first fruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting eagerly for our adoption as sons,the redemption of our body. 

For in hope we have been saved, but hope that is seen is not hope; for who hopes for what he already sees?  But if we hope for what we do not see, with perseverance we wait eagerly for it.

Romans 8:18-25

Post Cedarville

Freshman Year

A wide-eyed girl from Delaware shows up in middle-of-nowhere Ohio at a tiny Christian university for who knows why except that she loved Jesus and liked softball and kind of had a thing for a guy who lived in Ohio. The Fall Bible Conference tugged her heart. Inner-city ministry tugged her heart. A boy she knew wasn't good for her tugged her heart. Tugged it and tugged it until it broke.

Sophomore Year

The wide-eyed girl from Delaware is not so wide-eyed anymore. She comes back to her school, hoping against hope that it will save her from a summer where nothing seemed to go her way. She is an RA and is leading other girls and feels the depth and the unbelievable desperation of inadequacy in her life as a people-pleaser. 

And she comes to the conclusion that Jesus is the only One she needs to please anyway, and that somehow, some way, that is enough. She finally understands that a relationship and a boy and a marriage and a family and a thousand friends who love her and care about her and look up to her is not what satisfies--it is not the answer. But she's still trying to figure it out. 

Junior Year 

The wide-eyed girl comes back from a summer of change--too much change. Her eyes are a little less wide, a little more squinty, a little more cynical, a little less hopeful. Her family moves; they don't move to Maryland. They don't move to Missouri even. They move to Wyoming. And it's 26 hours away from her. And she acts like it's not a big deal, but it is. Deep down, she knows that it is. 

She meets a boy, but she is skeptical of him. They date. She goes to Valencia, Spain on a 4-month trip to try to learn a language and live with a Spanish family and explore a different part of the world. She does. But she also finds out things about herself that she never knew--things that she hates--and spends way too much time alone and and finds out that there is more to the world than the United States and there are people that matter and there are situations she didn't know were even occurring. She continues to date the boy. She is still skeptical of him, but she likes the way he's committed and she likes his brown eyes and how he talks to her about theology. She likes him. She doesn't like him. She almost breaks up with him. She decides to stick it out. 

Senior Year

The girl comes back to Cedarville with different eyes, no longer wide at all. She spends the summer with that same boy. She falls in love with him. And she didn't know what love would feel like, but she likes it. And then, all of a sudden, the beginning of school starts. And there's the Fall Bible Conference again, and the Worship Night, and there is a barbecue at her friends' house. But it's different now. She had always read about the room spinning when people get anxious, but she didn't know it could actually happen. For the first time ever, she felt awkward talking to people. She couldn't get the words out, and she felt alone in a room full of 20 people, people she called friends. Because in a room full of same, she felt so different.

So she left that barbecue. She just walked away. She couldn't do it. She just couldn't "do life" at Cedarville University for the next four months. After what she experienced and what she saw and the hopelessness and Jesuslessness she saw in Spain, she felt sick about her life at Cedarville. She didn't know how to live for Christ in a world that was so broken, but so covered up by Christian Hipsterdom and intentional coffee and Discipleship groups and even plain old ministry. 

And from there, it got worse. 

It started by hating unauthentic Christian words. 

She hears words like "community" and "covenant" and "The Lord" and "your walk" and "prayer journal" and "obey" and she starts to fidget, unable to control her own body. She wants to punch a wall clean through. She hears it and feels the pang in her heart, and she pushes it down, and thinks: Stop thinking so negatively about this, Karly. You are better than this. You are. 

But you know what? 

I wasn't better than that. I wasn't. 

You know who is? 

Jesus is better than that. Jesus is better than the words that I hate and the people I don't understand and the Christian classes and the feeling of loneliness in a college full of 3,000 people. 

Jesus is better than me. Did I have a right to feel that way? No. Should I have felt that way? No.  

Did Jesus cover that for me? Yes. Yes yes yes yes. He did. He does.  

Daycare Grace

After 2 months of no job, no routine, no income, and wayyyyyyyyy too much time for an extrovert to be alone in a house, I have a job! I am working at a daycare. Has it been what I expected it to be? Not in the slightest.

From the looks of this picture, daycare may seem to be a time where the children have the opportunity to play with puzzles, answer questions, play outside, read stories, and ultimately prepare for kindergarten. 

Nope.

Daycare is absolute chaos. Even in the midst of structure, there is chaos. I will be trying to read a story while one precious little girl kicks and screams, a charming chubby-cheeked boy climbs on the shelves, and a dirty Disney-princess-boot wearing little beauty is rummaging through the toys, pretending that they are fruits and vegetables and cookies and if you move them the world will most certainly end. Some of the problem is the lack of routine. Some of it is home lives and the lack of attention these kids get. And still some is just the fact that they are 3 years old. 

I had to stop and realize this week that my "schedule" and "plan" for getting the kids to listen cannot and will not work. I had to realize that it was not only silly of me, but also selfish of me, to expect that these children would be well-behaved and follow the rules and give me their undivided attention when I read them a story or do a silly dance for them. It's just that my brain always goes to "If this...then that." 

If I dance with them, they will get all their energy out and settle down. 

If I show them love for two minutes when they're being good, they'll be good for the rest of the day. 

If I introduce this new discipline tactic, they will behave. 

My Ifs and my Thens have not worked in the daycare world I live in 10-6 M-F. They have not worked and that kind of pisses me off. 

Because there are theories! I learned about these theories! They say that kids just need _______________ and that ______________________ is best for them.

After I got angry about the theories not working, I got mad at the kids' behavior. And then I became angry about their parents and their home lives and thought what the heck is going on at home? Why are they being taught that this is okay?

And then, something happened.

It was the busiest time of the day - the time when all of the kids first awake from their naps and they have that adorable "Where am I?" look on their faces. Some of them cry and some of them run around like crazy hooligans. We try to get them all to go to the bathroom and sit down for snack. It usually feels like trying to herd all of the animals that needed to board Noah's ark without God's help.

Autumn* - precious Autumn. She is a three-year-old foster care child and came to daycare wearing a diaper and I had to change it. She wanted another diaper; the only thing available was a pull-up. She screamed. She stomped. She tried to open the door and said, "I want everyone to see me." She laughed because she thought going against my directions was funny and entertaining. She wiggled. It wasn't that she didn't want to wear her pretty pink pants. It was that she wanted to defy me, to basically spit in my face and tell me that I am not worth listening to. Her three-year-old body was almost strong enough to escape my protecting arms, but not quite. I held onto her firmly.

As I was holding onto her, time seemed to slow down and I thought how this - this kicking and screaming and stomping and wiggling away and trying to get away at all costs - this is me. This is me defying God and spitting in His face. This is me seeing his hurt and pain on the cross and kicking Him anyway. This is me trying to open the door and shame myself by saying "LOOK AT ME" and getting mad and screaming at God when he doesn't let me go. Or blaming Him if he does.

I repeated to her over and over what she needed to be doing in a gentle tone and kindly asked her to stop and told her that she was beautiful. On the inside, I was raging anger, but somehow the grace of God burned up that anger and from the ashes flowed circumstance-defying love toward this defiant little one. 

And through this small, mundane, usual situation at the Daycare, I can see the good, good News - the Gospel - the Jesus Story - the Cross. And this only skims the top of His Love and only sheds light on a fraction of my rebellion. 

This love. This love is a love worth pursuing. This love is a love that changes, that transforms, that changes my sinful anger into God-given grace.

Paul explains in Romans 5 that the epitome of that love is seen at the Cross. I'll let him do the explaining: 

You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: while we were still sinners Christ died for us. 

Now I know why my Ifs and Thens aren't working. I know because the answer needs to be Christ, and Christ alone. There really aren't any answers. These kids are sinful, their parents are sinful, and I'm sinful. 

And we all need Jesus.

For the first time, I am starting to understand what it truly means to be a Christian - to be a little Christ - to live out a Christian worldview. It's hard. It's hard, but it's worth it. It's hard, but it's beautiful. It's hard, but it's real.