No Mistakes

When someone asks me, “What’s your occupation?” I reply, “I’m a grade four teacher.”

I don’t say, “Ringleader of the circus in Grade 4A.”

“Zookeeper.”

“Part time mom of 15 nine year olds.”

“Babysitter, mentor, nurse, peacemaker, and in general, chaos coordinator.”

People don’t expect to hear those things… so I describe my role as “teacher.” Because teacher is a commonly used word to describe the tallest person in any given elementary classroom.

(It’s also a lovely, professional-sounding term for the job – a job which is really more like an unpredictable adventure you get to embark on every day. 😉)

Heads nod. “Ohhh, you teach school. Nice.”

So yes. I teach.

I prep oodles of lessons, explain concepts, guide discussions, correct mistakes.

But I’m really just the student with the largest desk.

Teaching means passing knowledge on to others. Sharing truths. And sometimes, they teach me.

They spout comments that are packed with wisdom. They ask questions that challenge me to examine what I believe, and why. I never know when I answer a raised hand just what I’ll hear…

Recently I was attempting to teach a science lesson on the human ear. Amid an extreme case of giggles affecting the class (apparently ears – specifically the auricles – are incredibly hilarious), I saw a hand raised that was not accompanied with that mischievous twinkle.

Hoping to get the lesson back on a more orderly foot, I called on that student. The question was much more serious than I had expected.

“Why would God not design someone’s ear to work right? If He doesn’t make any mistakes, why does He make deaf people?”

Ouch. Swallow. I walked to my desk and sat on the front edge of it before answering.

(That’s my position for deep discussions. Out from behind my podium or desk, no barriers between us… sitting down as one of them. By sitting on my desk, I still have a bit more height so I assume the role of leading the conversation, without appearing too authoritative.) *And yes, I have been told I overthink things!😄

My mind was spinning. She said, “IF.” “If God doesn’t make mistakes, why…”

The class leaned forward in anticipation. Me sitting on my desk was a signal that were going to spend some time off topic… I’m opening a class discussion on a side lesson I feel is important. And they were all waiting for an answer.

These children had no idea what I was dealing with that day. That their teacher was also wondering why God allows bad things, when He is good. But a child in my class has asked “if God doesn’t make mistakes, why…?”

It wasn’t about the human ear, or deafness. This question mattered, because there was an if where there should have been an absolute. As a Christian educator, I am called to teach the truth about God.

But really? “God, You want me to teach this concept… now?”

I realized I’d been asking the same question and not facing it. Denying it’s existence in my heart, instead of wrestling with it as I should. And now, a roomful of expectant faces waited for my answer, and I knew with conviction there was only one thing I could tell them.

But how could I explain it, while wrestling with it in so much pain myself?

I took a deep breath, asked God to provide words, opened my mouth and plunged in.

“First of all, I want you all to know that God does not make mistakes. Ever. There’s no if… God makes no mistakes.”

Faces relaxed. They’d been taught this, and their childlike impression of God’s character was just reaffirmed by someone they trust. (This role allows me to impact children so much it’s terrifying! They believe whatever I say – I need to speak carefully, wisely, and truthfully!)

But I couldn’t leave the answer there. I’d clarified the “if”, but it would soon be back if I didn’t explain the “why?”.

I found myself explaining how God originally designed everything to be perfect. We went back to Eden, and then the fall of man. “If everything would be perfect now,” I went on, “then we’d still be in Eden. It’s because of us, our sin, that things aren’t perfect.”

“But one thing didn’t change, and that is God’s love for us. We have to live in a broken world now, where bad things happen, people die, plants decay, and yes, sometimes babies are born deaf. But God doesn’t leave us to live through it alone. So when He plans each life, He sees where the imperfections are. He sees the parts that will hurt us and be difficult for us, and He writes His love into every line of story. He never allows anyone to experience something that He isn’t strong enough to help them handle – He plans exactly how much we each can manage, and faithfully carries us through the life He gives to us. So although bad things do happen, they aren’t just random. God is in control, and He loves us enough to help us through all the hard things we face. When God allows a hard thing, it is never a mistake – He plans every detail of our lives carefully and lovingly.”

I don’t know how much they understood… or if they’ll remember this in the middle of their young adulthood struggles 10 years from now. I hope that the concept will at least remain and build their faith.

But I think God allowed that question for me. By forcing me to pause and face that question, knowing I would struggle to answer it myself… He spoke through me to my students when I asked Him to, and therefore impressed the truth on my aching heart as well.

God never makes mistakes.

The girl who adamantly said that teaching is the last occupation on earth she would consider… was taken on a bumpy career journey which eventually landed her behind a teachers desk.

Years later, in a difficult season, she finds herself being taught the truths her heart needs through the precious students God placed in her life.

Yes, He had it all planned to place me right here, this moment. Every event, both painful and good, contributed to God’s perfect plan for my life… and this will continue as He writes my story.

Because I can say and believe with joy,

God never makes mistakes!

Reformation

Repair. Rebuild. These words are familiar to me. They’re comforting words – they speak of restoration. A returning to what was, making whole and strong again.

But lately another concept has filled my mind.

Reformation.

Reform… to literally be formed again.

I’ve been broken before. It hurts. My plans get a few cracks, my heart ends up a little bruised, but Jesus repairs. He mends the broken places and life goes on. There might be a few battle scars, but overall, I am still me. Life is still familiar. And I realize, the pain was worth it. After I’m repaired, I see that it is Good.

Sometimes, an event has left me shattered. The pain goes deep. My heart isn’t only bruised, it’s in pieces. My plans break apart. They aren’t only cracked, they’re no longer in one piece.

But Jesus, the Carpenter from Nazareth, loves to rebuild. He takes all the pieces and fits them back together. It might not look quite like the original, but it is beautiful. After He rebuilds my life, I see that everything worked out for Good.

But what if I’m totally crushed? What if I’m way beyond cracked and bruised? More than shattered – because the pieces of me, my plans, and my life aren’t even recognizable? No hint of the original remains.

What then?

You can’t glue something back together if you don’t even have pieces to work with. If they’re crushed into fine powder, what then?

Thankfully, God isn’t limited to repairing or rebuilding things. He isn’t only a Carpenter, He is a Potter.

He wants to re-form me.

Dust and water are necessary to make clay…

Clay can be molded into beautiful, brand new vessels – completely different than the original.

There may be slight similarities, sure. Still made of clay. Still a vessel to be filled with any given substance. But, new.

Crushed lives, dreams, and identities may appear hopeless. But they are filled with vitality when saturated with the living water of God’s love!

God isn’t finished with me, with my life. His purpose for me is ever unfolding, and the same is true for you who reads this.

I don’t like being crushed. I’m afraid of the waves of pain that break over my head at times and almost push me under.

But… I do kind of like the idea of being reformed.

What’s God going to make my life into? How will He shape me through this?

If this crushing is necessary to produce the dust God needs to work with, I’ll relax into the ride. Let the waves toss me… let the Master Potter breathe life into me and shape me in His skillful hands…

And someday I’ll look back and realize, He has made me gloriously NEW!

I will have the same key features of course. Human. A vessel to be filled with Jesus. But oh, I hope I’m able to carry more of His love for others. I hope I will be formed in a way that reveals more of Him and less of me.

Am I enjoying this place in life? Not. At. All.

But there shines a brilliant light of hope in the darkness when I think about being drastically reformed.

Not only a minor repair job. Not being rebuilt into a similar structure. Complete reformation promises an exciting surprise of, “what will it be?!”

God has repaired me, and hurt has become good.

God has rebuilt me, and pain has been replaced with joy.

But now, God is reforming me, and dust will become alive! Just as He made it to be so in Genesis… and promises in Revelation… from cover to cover in the Bible, God delights in creating newness from humble beginnings.

I have faith that I’m not permanently going to be crushed.

I am in the hands of God, the Giver of new life… and I am in the process of being Re-Formed.

The intensity of the current pain gives me hope… that the new creation of God’s design for my life will be extraordinarily beautiful.

Behold, I am making all things NEW!

– God, Revelation 21:5 ESV –

That’s… Me.

There’s a very dear, familiar-to-me book packed cover to cover with true stories of great men and women.

I’ve been told these stories from my early childhood years, read them many times. I know the content well… or so I thought.

I’m referring to the Bible, and the stories I have in mind are those of Moses and the Israelites, Jonah, and Peter, just to mention a few.

Moses was a great leader. God called him to an enormous task and included him as a key player in an incredible exodus.

Before that happened, though, Moses tried to avoid the role he was being given. He claimed that due to his speech impediment, he wasn’t qualified as the right man for the job.

“Ummm… Moses? Don’t you think you’re missing something? God created you with that unique challenge. He knew about it when he asked you to take on this assignment. Shouldn’t you just trust Him to take care of those details?”

(God did have a plan in mind, in case you’re wondering. He assigned Aaron to be Moses’ assistant.)

But something about this seems familiar… those words, “God, I can’t do this. I’m too weak. You’ve chosen the wrong person…”

I have been Moses.

Will I also be like Moses in rising to the task and trusting God to bring things together?

The concept of that many slaves escaping Egypt’s power – all at one time – seemed absurd. Apparently not to God, though, and He proved that nothing is too great for Him.

They escaped. It’s easy to think that the Israelites had it all made… God parted the Red Sea for them, after all! Trusting God must’ve come naturally for them after that.

If only God would send us a dramatic, visible sign… then surely it wouldn’t be so hard to rest in trust.

But that’s not how the story goes. No, when Moses came down from 40 days on the mountain with God, the people had built an idol. They needed something they could see and feel – apparently one demonstration of God’s sure power and existence was not enough.

I’ve been just like the Israelites. Demanding a sign, and even receiving one at times… but trust is an internal heart issue. It should not depend on physical proof, because God is not a physical being. He is spiritual, and so must be my faith.

Then there’s Jonah. It’s easy enough to judge him… running blatantly from his calling. His disobedience created a storm for those with him to suffer through.

“Jonah, that was selfish and cowardly. Why didn’t you surrender sooner?”

But wait… I’m Jonah.

That’s right – that’s been me.

How often do I fight surrender in fear, and cause those around me to navigate storms unnecessarily? All because I’m refusing to trust God, lay aside my fears, and walk in the place He is asking me to fill.

In the New Testament, there’s Peter.

We all know Peter. Confident, courageous Peter. Now there are some adjectives I’d like to apply to myself!

But, though I’m a lot like Peter, it’s not those character traits I’m carrying.

Remember the doubting, denying, Peter?

Well, I’ve been Peter. Confident at first…

“Sure, Lord! I’ll walk on the water with you! Wherever you call me – I’m not afraid of any storm if You’re there!”

Then doubting.

“These waves really are higher than I expected…”

and with that, I start sinking.

“Peter, why did you even look at the waves? Taking your eyes off of the One Who called you out there was sure to bring you trouble. What happened to your confident trust that you had when you first stepped out of the boat?”

… yes indeed. What happened to my trust?

I’ve been Peter, and not as a reflection of his better points.

That’s been me, jumping over the side of the boat, striding over the waves with ease, glancing down to see what size of storm I’m gliding through… and promptly sinking.

There’s One character in the Bible Who I can’t find any fault in.

He is the character I desire to be most like, yet I resemble Him the least.

Thankfully He is able to help me become more like Him…

His name is Jesus.

With my focus on Him, I can fight through.

By God’s grace, He will make me a Red Sea crossing Moses, and a wilderness surviving, Canaan entering Israelite.

If I’m willing to be humbled, He can use me, a whale spittle covered Jonah, as His servant.

When I refocus my sight on Him, He will lift me up out of the waves. He will walk with me through the storm and guide me to the shore. He can transform me from a doubting, sinking, mortal, into a courageous worker, just as He did Peter.

Above all, if I keep my focus on Him, He will make me more and more like Himself.

So that I can be Jesus to others.