We'll Get There in the End

Last week, I had the pleasure of sharing my book, Jules Verne and a Raven Named Poe with a group of sixth graders at Endeavour Elementary.  It was my first time in a classroom in about seven years and I was somewhat apprehensive about how it would all go.

I spent twenty minutes or so reading to them from the book.  It was after lunch and toward the end of their school day and I knew many of them were tired and squirrely and ready for school to be over not just for that day, but for the year.

But I also had faith in the story I was telling, in the way I peppered cliffhangers throughout, in the voice of the narrator, a thirteen-year-old girl.

And so, I plowed on.

When the boy in front of me, dropped his Gatorade bottle on the floor, I didn’t stop reading, I bent down, picked up the bottle, put it back on his desk, all without pausing or taking a breath.

And when another two students in front of me, put their heads down on their books and fell asleep—well, honestly, that just made me smile.  I can’t tell you how many sleeping children have graced my classroom over the years.

I did move so that I was standing directly in front of them as I read, but I didn’t make any moves, really, to wake them up because I remembered a very important lesson I learned my second year of teaching.

Never wake a sleeping student.

In my second year of teaching, my first year at a public school, I had an eighth-grade class that met every day after lunch.  It was a class mostly populated by kids who were days away from their sixteenth birthday and the ability then to drop out of school.  There was this one girl who slept every day.  She slept so much, I actually found a sheet in the closet the last teacher had left and let her cover up with it.  It was cold in the classroom.

I let her sleep.

Why?

Because she was a holy terror when she was awake.  When she was awake, nothing productive got done in class.  There was no teaching.  There was only survival as I counted the seconds until the bell rang.

Let them sleep.

But overall, my experience at Endeavour the other day, was magical.  I loved every second of it.  I missed being in the classroom.  I missed sharing good books with kids.  That is the thing I loved most about teaching all those years, sharing books, opening doors to other worlds, matching the right book with the right kid.

I always knew as a teacher that I couldn’t reach every kid, but if I just reached one kid—if I had just reached one kid, that was all that mattered.

Being in the classroom the other day, reminded me that I had a call to teach and that you can recognize a calling this way.  All callings have this one thing in common.

They never leave you.

They are hardwired into you—into your heart, into your soul. 

Your calling breathes as you breathe.

Your calling beats with your heartbeat.

Your calling gives you life.

And no matter what obstacles come your way, the stumbling blocks that are placed in front of you on the path, on the journey, your calling stays with you.  It is not something that can ever be separated from you.  It is you.

You cannot deny your calling any more than you can deny yourself.

Your calling enriches the world in some way and not one way is ever too small to matter.

Your calling, whether it be teaching or preaching or praying, or being a Starbucks barista (believe me even though I don’t drink coffee, I understand these baristas are a godsend to many) is the most important thing you will ever do.

Your calling is something that is founded and built upon selfless giving, on an unconditional love of the world—a Jesus-love.

Today’s reading from Luke 10:25-28 is a familiar one.  The lawyer asks Jesus what he must do to have eternal life.  Jesus, knowing who he is talking to, asks him what the Law says and the man responds by quoting from Leviticus, the same verse we read today, Leviticus 19:18, “Love your neighbor as yourself.”  And Jesus responds, basically, “Yep, you got it.  Do that and you will live.”

Now, I have looked at multiple translations of these verses from the King James version to The Message to the NIV, and they all say the same thing.  The lawyer asks what he has to do for eternal life.  And Jesus tells him if he loves his neighbor as himself, he will live.

But what catches my eye here is that Jesus doesn’t say to the lawyer he will have eternal life.

Jesus says if he loves, he will live.

If you love, you will live.

And not just any love, but the selfless, unconditional love that is required to love your neighbor as yourself.

Do this and you will live.

The lawyer is asking about a future reward.

Jesus responds by saying the reward is here and now.

When you are following your calling, you are exhibiting the ultimate manifestation of Jesus-love.  Think about your own life for a second.  Think about that moment when you knew you were doing exactly what you were supposed to be doing in your life, that you were fulfilling your calling, that you had finally found your purpose.

Didn’t you feel alive in that moment?  Didn’t you feel more alive than you have ever felt?

I’ll say it again.  Every calling is rooted in love.

And Jesus says if you love, you live.

It’s that simple.

Unfortunately, though, it’s not always easy fulfilling our calling.  There are obstacles; some are foreseeable but most seemingly appear out of nowhere.  And it’s easy to get frustrated.  It’s easy to say, “I’m done.  Maybe I was wrong.  Maybe this isn’t for me.”

But remember, a true calling never leaves us, because a true calling is worth fighting for.  A true calling brings us to life.

As I was leaving Endeavour last week, I was escorted out by a sixth grader.  I chatted with her a little bit, mostly small talk.  I told her I was glad she was showing me the way out as I was already turned around.

“Don’t worry,” she said, looking straight ahead, weaving us through and around the Kindergartners lined up in the hallway.  “We’ll get there in the end.”

Never give up on your calling.

God will get you there in the end.

Amen.