Blog ADHD

I have moved yet again. Keeping wordpress to the teaching stuff (teachingninja.wordpress.com).

Talkingninja has moved to Tumblr. (talkingninja.tumblr.com) To motivate more bloggage, I’m also starting 365 days of a picture a day. I like looking back at old blogs, now I can’t seem to get started on them. Maybe this will help.

See you there!

The Washing of Feet

Some things in the Bible really do seem archaic, mysterious, and they makes me feel “not Christian enough” because of how little I understand of it.

Sometimes you get just get a long string of those and coupled with tons of questions, anger, and frustration, it can really stop you from reading altogether. Which I did. For a long while. A really long while.

Recently, I have been trying to find my momentum again and it has been admittedly hard. Though the criticisms have been curtailed a bit, I am far from being in the clear. However, a few factors are slowly drawing me back.

1. I am much less happier than I was back then when I was rooted.
2. Though I slowly started to feel the freedom from the laws of the Word, I also slowly started to feel the bindings of the world. Perhaps this is what moved me back to number 1.
3. I like myself better back then than I do now.

And lastly, 4. I like Jesus’ life.

Amidst all the strange elusive stories, the commands and the warnings, there’s still the way he led his life.

Like washing his disciples’ feet.

You just don’t see that in the world. A man of great power and respect washing his followers’ feet. Who does that? I’m not talking about washing each others’ feet or doing it in some ritual for missions training, but what Jesus did. A king washing his subjects’ feet. Who does that?

I really want to be like that man.

Peter said, “not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!”

I feel that passion now as I say such things, as I want back in on the Christian life. I always feel like it has to be so dramatic. Of all the ways I have rebelled in the last months, I feel like there has to be some sort of dramatic entry back. A huge sobbing cry of repentance, a painful penitence of sorts.

But there isn’t. Just the washing of feet is enough, I am assured. A simple confession will more than suffice.

Rejecting Marriage Proposals

I can’t believe people can’t even do this properly elsewhere. If I ever have to reject a proposal, I think I might cry thinking about how easily I could do it while these women get acid thrown in their face for it.

*Warning, graphic photos ahead*

http://blogs.tampabay.com/photo/2009/11/terrorism-thats-personal.html

Why are you a teacher?

The question comes up at least once a year with every new batch of students. “Why are you a teacher?” The first time I heard it, I was slightly confused why they were asking. Then they started getting a bit more specific (as I learned that I could ask them questions too).

“Why do you teach HERE? How come you’re not teaching magnet?”
“How come you’re not at a white school?”
“How come you’re not a doctor or a professor or something?”

I get a mixture of emotions when I hear these. Of course, I feel flattered because I understand these are high compliments from kids who don’t hash out many compliments a day. Most of the time, I get really sad. Especially with questions along the lines of the second one. Need I say more on that? Sometimes, I even get angry at how so many people think teaching is a sell-out job. I know my mom still thinks I should become a doctor.

My response had always been something along the lines of “because I love teaching!” “teaching was my first choice job”, or “why? do you think white people are better than you?” (unless, of course, they they werent and wanted to be rid of me to a predominantly white school… =P)

This time, however, I really did start to wonder. And I hate that. I’m not questioning whether I should go to a white school or magnet or become a doctor. Teach college?, maybe.

I think I have a severe case of the “Mr. Feeney Syndrome.” If you don’t know who that is, that was this teacher on Boy Meets World, who taught that curly haired kid for what must’ve been middle school, high school, and then followed him into college… AND he was the boy’s neighbor.

Ok, so maybe my case isn’t as severe or as freakish as his, but still kinda freakish relative to the real world. I didn’t stalk one kid, but a class of kids, for their 4 years of high school. And now they’ve gone and graduated, leaving me feeling like… I’m still here? Even if it’s not moving on to teach college for these specific set of kids, I still feel like I want to move on with them. I understand the crazy Mr. Feeney.

If I keep teaching, my whole life will consist of watching these kids move up and out while I’m still here. Is this MY grown-up end where I have to be ok w/ that? I guess I’m kind of not right now. I suddenly find myself still asking, what will I be when I grow up? =P

(Mommy, get these guys to be my coworkers and maybe I’ll still be that doctor yet.)

A New Skill to Teach?

This is so depressing! I am sitting here on a Friday evening before a 3 day weekend grading. That’s not the most depressing part. WHAT I am grading is what is so depressing! These papers are TERRIBLE!

The thing is, if they really tried and just did a crap job because they really don’t get it, I am much more understanding. In fact, I almost welcome it cuz that means they still need me. However, on about half of these, it is so obvious that they didn’t even read the FIRST PAGE!

I know slackers are everywhere. These poor slackers, though, can’t even B.S. well. Do you think I should be teaching bull shitting skills too? I really do think it’s a useful skill in life to keep in your back pocket..

No More Excuses

This is a quote from a blog, “Beggar’s Fortune.” I have no idea who it is, but he says something in there that I have noticed before in a restaurant and I have noticed now in my relationship w/ God:

“A few months ago I realized that God and I had become like that couple I feel sorry for in restaurants, aware of one another’s existence but never acknowledging it with eye contact, a syllable or smile.  Maybe they’re still in love but they’ve reached the bottom of one another, run out of discoveries. Maybe the relationship evolved into a duty. Maybe there was a spat – over something that would seem trivial today if they could only remember what it was – and they each delayed “I’m sorry” until silence and avoidance just became their way of life. Maybe, somewhere in all the bustle of child raising, soccer practices and dance recitals, ladder climbing, house cleaning and 401K building they just got out of the habit of connecting and now they can’t remember how to.

I think that’s where God and I have been for the last – I’m ashamed to say it – couple years.  Maybe more.  I can’t remember it happening.  I just realized not long ago that it did.”

This is perhaps one of the reasons I am happy to have left The Garden. Because I would almost rather be angry and in rebellion than having this kind of suffocating relationship, and I feel like I’ve been stuck in this for the last several years.

Yes, perhaps this silent relationship is between me and God, not me and The Garden. Church and God though, hard to separate. I know the difference in my head, but it’s hard to feel it in my heart.

“I’m not depressed anymore but I’m not well either.  I’m afraid to read the comments on my blog and on Facebook. As well-intentioned and loving as they may be, the words of Christians pose a greater risk to my faith right now than the words of any renowned reasoned atheist. I can’t explain why, but they do. And I’m angry at God sometimes for reasons I don’t completely understand.”

This is just a warning. If you’re thinking that I left The Garden because I was spiritually lacking, I might just leave the church altogether. If you’re going to tell me more about working on my character, I might show you the worst part about my character, represented by the middle finger.  Character, character, more character. All we ever worked on was our character. “How are you ever going to get married w/ that character?” Someone said this to me with a serious face.  So holy art though, you judgemental piece of crap. How’s that for character? Watch me get married w/ it still in tact.

GAWD it feels so much better to be openly angry than to constantly try to humbly make up excuses for it!

A Holy God

May I be so bold as to say, I kind of do not like that Mercy Me song “I Can Only Imagine.”

It’s a floofy song that makes me kind of feel worshipful musically, but kind of makes me feel uncomfortable lyrically.

Surrounded by your glory, what will my heart feel?
Will I dance for you Jesus? or in awe of you be still?
Will I stand in your presence? to my knees will I fall?
Will I sing hallelujah? Will I be able to speak at all?
I can only imagine.

I mean, it sounds alright. It may as well be possible. But let’s take a look at all those who did encounter God in the Bible.

Moses, the most humble man: “When he stood in front of the burning bush and found out it was God, he ‘hid his face, because he was afraid to look at God.’”    -Exodus 3

Isaiah, the great major prophet: “‘Woe to me!’ I cried. ‘I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty’” -Isaiah 6

Ezekiel, the great prophet to the exiles of Babylon: “When I saw it, I fell facedown…” Ezekiel 1

Peter, the founder of our church. “…he fell at Jesus’ knees and said, ‘Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!’”    -Luke 5

And those are just the ones I can think of at the top of my head. They all felt unworthy and wanted to either run, cover themselves, or get as close to the dirt as possible. We worship a HOLY GOD. How easily we forget. How easily we call him our pal and father instead.

Another Chance

“A man had a fig tree, planted in his vineyard, and he went to look for fruit on it, but did not find any. So he said to the man who took care of the vineyard, ‘For three years now I’ve been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree and haven’t found any. Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?’

‘Sir,’ the man replied, ‘leave it alone for one more year, and I’ll dig around it and fertilize it. If it bears fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down.’”       – Luke 13:6-9

The consequences of not bearing any fruit is being CUT DOWN and thrown into the fire. To not bear any fruit is a WASTE of good resources, a WASTE. I think over the years, I’ve really taken advantage of this grace thing and this being culturally relevant thing. I think over the past few years, my mission work at my school has been a bit watered down of the craziness of the gospel.

And when I say crazy, I don’t necessarily mean the good kind of crazy. Cuz the gospel may contain good crazy, but it also contains a LOT of CRAZY crazy. It is not a message for all, as much as I would want it to be. As much as I would want it to be accepted by ALL of those students I love so much and ALL of my huge extended family- the fact of the matter is, that it might not be.

I think over the past few years, my love for God has not kept up with my growing love for my family and students… Though a growing love for others really is an amazing feeling and sounds very righteous, it’s still idolatry if my love for God does not grow with it, ahead of it…

As I read this parable this time around, I noticed the lack of an ending to the story. Does the man end up bearing fruit or does the tree end up being cut down? Of course there would be no written ending though. The point is more about the asking of another chance.

One more chance, God! Can I do it? Can I be so bold as to talk about the crazies of the gospel? It’s not about working up courage though. It’s about growing in a love for Him that supersedes the love I have for these people. Just one more chance! Can I bear the kinds of fruit a tree with this many resources should be bearing??

Well, through all the changes this upcoming year, I have some new opportunities also to dig and fertilize around me. I plan on living w/ my cousin on the family front and I plan on taking a Stats class w/ some of my students at the local CC on the student front.

Leave it alone for one more year… if it bears fruit next year, fine! If not…

Graduation

Where do I even begin?

I finished my 5th year of teaching last week. The first year I really had no idea what I was doing, and then God gave me a gift my 2nd year. A whole class of kids to love upon. I loved them so much I stalked them to their senior year.

Yes, doin the math, that would mean that they are now gone. Graduated. I’d say about a good dozen of them I saw everyday, hung out with them after school, seen grow up in the last four years, taught them a little math, and developed friendships even. Now they’re all gone.

I know I sound like a broken record to a lot of people around me, but I really can’t believe they’re gone! I can’t really do an end of the year wrap up. Perhaps a brief look at the archives…

• Year one wrap up

• Year two wrap up (in warp speed)

• Third year wrap up got a little long, but this sums it up nice and sweet.  and maybe the first and last post on this page too. =P

And this year, they even helped me move out:

And this one… oh, this one…

This one graduated in 3 years, instead of 4. Perhaps God did this to yank off the bandaid all in one blow. Out of the entire 5 years of teaching, I poured my heart and soul into this one the most. I’ve shed countless tears for her while praying for her, being frustrated and angry with her, laughing my ass off w/ her, and in this picture, I cry because of how much I’ll miss her…

Thankfully, however, in the last few weeks, she has slowly started to come to know Christ. So in the last couple of days, our relationship has quickly taken a new turn also. I now text her verses, send her a bible, and freely tell her I am praying for her.

Her road to “salvation” is still in the very beginning processes of being worked out, that’s for sure. But this is one that I feel more confident in letting go into the world because of my confidence in Him rather than in her. When I think about some of the others, I still carry some regrets about not saying enough, but what would my mourning do, right? There will still be more opportunities yet to come… with the same kids and even with a waiting group of new kids…

But wow, I sure did love my Class of 2009. =)

Sharing

“The man w/ 2 tunics should share w/ him who has none, and the one who has food should do the same.”

How many ppl do I really know who has no tunic? I think I live in a world where the man w/ 37 tunics shares w/ the man who has 10.