Wednesday, May 31, 2023

Name that Chaos


We tell a common non-joke around here, the gist of which is that Transition is a bad word, only to be whispered in hushed hues. Once a year, however, at least in the Middle School, we pull it out and put it on the table in the middle of the room for all students to poke and play with. Our annual Transition Workshop has become one of my favorite evenings; it never goes the same way twice. Even though we talk about the transition to high school coming up and the international moves they have all experienced, different students will bring different experiences and emotions to the workshop.

And we focus a lot on emotions by assigning names to those vague thoughts on the edge of our brains (“I don’t know what to expect in America next year” = fear; “Everyone else is ready for high school but me” = jealousy; “I can’t wait to try out for volleyball” = hope). One of the best gifts we feel we can give our students is the recognition that they are not alone in their transition.

To that end, this year, I started out by laying pieces of paper on the ground to symbolize the transition bridge. As I walked from “Involved” → “Leaving” → “Chaos” → “Entering” → “Re-Involved,” I asked some brave people to share times they had walked this bridge. One left Jordan to move to Germany, one gained a new baby sister, one switched schools in the middle of the year, one lost a beloved pet. I was so proud of them for sharing. 

Next, I asked them to share any Bible characters who they knew had walked some kind of transition. They blew me away with their knowledge of many stories. Joseph was sold by his brothers into the chaos of slavery but then became “re-involved” when he was promoted to Pharaoh's right-hand man and was reunited with his family. Daniel’s journey was similar in his own exile. Gideon moved from coward to warrior, from fully reliant on God to mostly reliant on himself. Paul, David, Ruth, Abraham, Adam & Eve, both Marys, the list was long. Then one girl nearly popped up out of her chair and shouted “Jesus!” It was the typical Sunday school answer, but her classmates’ eyes got wide as they put the pieces together that Jesus was fully involved in heaven, then left for the chaos of our world, so that we could all now enter into the re-involvement phase. 

The depth of their understanding in that moment was beautiful. Because the truth of the matter is that the entire gospel story is a story of Transition. In the Garden of Eden, we weren’t just involved, we were in perfect communion with our Creator, fully known and fully belonging. But we left. It was our choice, and the chaos that followed is where we continue to live unless we finish crossing the bridge. Jesus’ death on the cross invites us to re-enter the goodness that was once ours. Only on the other side, our joy is even more complete because to be re-involved (not just involved) carries a richness and an experience that our kids could write stories about. Every time we walk a transition, it’s an opportunity to proclaim the gospel again.

As our workshop continued, the kids tie-dyed T-shirts to remind themselves that out of the emotional turmoil there can be beauty, that God wastes nothing, and that they never walk alone. On Saturday, they’ll walk across the stage and say good-bye to their Middle School Years (often called the “chaos years” of education), and I couldn’t be more proud of them.

Tie-dye after the Workshop

Sunday, May 14, 2023

Gospel at McDonald's

 It had been a long day, and I hadn't eaten since breakfast, nor had several of the athletes around me. So as my McDonald's table filled with Middle School girls, I kept my prayer short, and we tore into our burgers, happily rehashing the main exciting moments of the all-day volleyball tournament. That's when he showed up.

Surrounded by his wife and three daughters, the man came up the stairs shouting obscenities and swearing in German. I glanced around the seating area, wondering how all the students from my Christian school would react. A couple were staring at him and some at me with big eyes, but for the most people kept eating. I shrugged my shoulders and took another bite, glancing at the man out of the corner of my eye. That's when I saw him make a sweeping gesture toward a large group of our students. "I mean you all! All of you. You're a bunch of little ...."

I jumped up from my booth, trying to swallow my bite quickly while inserting myself between the yelling man and the 7th grader closest to him. "Can I help you?" I asked with a sarcastic overtone. His response was terse and indignant. "Your students here need to learn some manners! I've never been treated with such insolence. Not an ounce of decent human behavior." His wife joined in, and I was able to discover that the short of it was that one of our students had bumped him and hadn't apologized.

I fought a retort forming in my mind about "decent human behavior toward kids" and instead tried to explain that we had just come from a tournament, but I wasn't ever allowed to finish a sentence. "I want an apology!" the man demanded. "Let me apologize on their behalf --" I started. "I don't want your apology!!" he took a step closer, his eyes roaming the room for the offender. I struggled to push down my own anger for the sake of rationality. "Is the person here? Maybe I can talk to him or her --" I began. He almost spit, "she ran down the stairs like a coward. If I see her again ..." and at that point he raised his hand to show he would hit her. That was the straw. "And if you do that, I won't hesitate to call the police," I snarled. Even his wife turned to him at that moment and told him to sit and calm down. He sat, and I had to walk away because I was shaking so badly. 

That's when I saw that one of the High School students coaches, an 11th grader and former student of mine, had taken a stand behind me. Towering over my head, I'm sure, he had seen me getting yelled at and had come as back-up. I could've hugged him in that moment, the tangible reminder that as I had to step in the gap and defend those entrusted to me, that someone had my back and would defend me, too. Like Jesus, I thought. My heart cracked and softened a bit as the gospel broke in. 

Back at the table, of course, seven 8th grade girls wanted to know "what was that about?!?" When we looked back over at the man and his family, my eyes were drawn to his pre-teen daughter, sitting in the corner with her hands over her face, utterly ashamed of her dad's behavior. One of my middle schoolers sitting next to me saw her at the same time. "I feel so bad for her," she whispered to me, and I nodded. How blessed am I that I never had parents who did that to me, but rather who modeled a Christ-like defender and generous forgiver. 

I couldn't eat at that moment anyway, so I took a walk downstairs to the McCafe and purchased three cookies. For his kids. I couldn't shake the feeling that the bump was probably not the cause of the man's explosion all over us, and if he was willing to put on a scene in public, what might his home life look like. It took a while before I could give them to him, but on our way out the door, I was able to offer another apology for my student's behavior, and he accepted the cookies with a grunt and another mini sermon about human decency. 

The middle school girls at my table were aghast. "You gave him cookies!?!" I tried to explain, "It's the gospel. We received a grace we didn't deserve and we are called to pass it on." God knows I fail more days than not, but I'm thankful for this teachable moment, both for my own heart and for those in my students.

Middle School Boys team with coaches