Yesterday, I sat down for coffee with one of my dearest friends, who also happens to be a former co-worker of mine... a fellow teacher motivated by a deep love for her students and a deeper love for our Creator.
Our conversation gradually slipped past the necessary preliminaries and into the deeper matters that have occupied our hearts and minds since our last coffee date over the winter break.
She brought up New Year's resolutions, and a few questions that have inspired her recently... questions about motivation, inspiration, and change.
As I often do following these conversations, I found myself preoccupied by our dialogue and reflecting on these questions for the remainder of the day.
Within my role as a teacher, I have the beautiful privilege of answering 8,347 questions every day. I believe questions are an incredibly powerful tool, yet I rarely question myself. I am accustomed to questions with definitive answers. These are safe questions, and I am comfortable responding to these inquiries. Yet, I fundamentally believe that comfort is an incredibly dangerous path to complacency.
As my mind spaghetti-noodled its way through the power of questions, I remembered a conversation with my ethics professor in college. She and I took a road trip to Georgia (another story for another time). Along the way, the conversation graciously slipped past the conventional vanities. We started exploring the idea of God's voice. She told me that throughout the Bible, God frequently begins his dialogue with questions. In fact, in many instances His entire response to His beseeching creation is posed in the form of a question.
Why would the omniscient God of the universe ask questions that He could answer?
To me, this further affirmed the necessity of questioning and self-reflection. In order to affect change, we must focus on the internal forces that are often silenced by our external culture.
As I considered the concepts of resolution and change yesterday, I started
constructing my own list of questions-- questions that when considered
honestly convict and remind me of who it is that I would like to
become... who I strive to be, in the classroom and in my personal
life.
1) What is "good"?
My friend and I considered this question yesterday. I have some gross misconceptions about what is good. Misconceptions that drive me to work for hours on end, in order to feel like a "good" teacher. Ultimately, working for that long is frivolous and does not make me "good." To me, goodness is an internal state of being that is characterized by gratitude and compassion. God is the sole proprietor of goodness, and in order to recognize goodness and feel its comfort, we must see it within ourselves.
When I inevitably allow anxiety to motivate my work, I want to pause and re-define- "what is 'good'?"
2) Who is it for?
I quietly judge others based on my misguided assumptions regarding their motivations, yet I cut in the line for treats at the end of my own dog and pony show. I crave accolades from the individuals that I respect, and I allow myself to become so discouraged when negative feedback is not cushioned with lavish affirmations. I hate that about myself, and I think that's why I am so quick to judge... questioning my own motivation is just so frustrating sometimes (because I know the answer).
As I ponder this question, I also ask myself- who gives me worth? I believe that God is the only one worthy to hold such a place of power-- to define the value of His creation. I believe that He did define our worth when He placed His own blood upon the cross. To surrender my worth to anyone else, not only devalues myself; it devalues my God. Before I speak, I need to question- "who is it for?"
3) Where am I looking?
Over the summer, I read The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein. The protagonist in the story repeatedly admonishes the reader that "Your car goes where your eyes go." The book led me to question my end game. I tend to be fairly detail-oriented, so stepping back to absorb the bigger picture is imperative. I get stuck on a problem that I cannot solve (and perhaps I am not meant to solve), meanwhile I miss multiple opportunities to serve in another way. My goal is to seek more beauty. If my current vantage point only diminishes my "goodness" (see #1), perhaps, I need a new perspective.
I want to spend more time admiring God's fingerprints and less time lamenting my mess.
As the seasons of my life inevitably march forward, I long to draw closer, dig deeper, and love better.
What is your "good"? Who is it for? Where are you looking? And what questions are you asking yourself this year?