In Both Achievement and Defeat

I am on Sabbatical this semester. This is my sixth year of teaching. I am not a newbie any more (insert sigh of relief). Almost all my classes are repeats; except for the upper-level seminary OT seminar, which is just about an issue in OT studies, everything has been taught at least twice. And now, my first Sabbatical. I always looked forward to the Sabbatical as a time to read and write in rich leisure; but the first week has actually been more stressful than a regular semester, because I have all this time in which to produce things! Oh well.

God has given me a gift for teaching. That is not a boast: or, if it is, it is a boast in God, not in myself, because I sure didn’t create the gift, or give it to myself. It really is a gift from outside myself. But I get up in front of students and it happens. I have gotten a lot of nice emails and cards from people. I have kept every one, and I read them when I am discouraged.

I have regrets, too. I regret I didn’t perform better. I know my acceptance isn’t based on my performance, but still: I wish I had been more consistently attentive and loving to students. Not that I haven’t been; but sometimes I was so scattered and anxious, I just couldn’t focus on the person sitting opposite me. I wish I’d been a better husband, more understanding of what my wife needs in her husband. I wish I’d been more consistently patient with my kids, and I wish I had more energy for them. On the one hand, every kid is born a tyrant; and it’s not bad for a four year old to learn that they can’t be utterly obnoxious without consequence. On the other hand, when I set a tone, with my body language and voice, of acceptance and OK-ness, my kids just blossom in it. It makes a palpable difference. Over the past six years, I wish I could have done that more consistently.

It is refreshing for me, at a juncture like this, to give both failure and accomplishment back to Jesus Christ. In his love for me, my failures and sins go onto him, and he owns them as his own, giving me his own perfect righteousness to be clothed with before the presence of the Father. I also give him all my accomplishments. If anything of lasting value has come out of the last six years, it’s only because the Spirit was at work. My accomplishments are no more my own, no more on my head, than my failures. They are given back to Jesus, from whom they come; whatever accomplishments I’ve been given are dedicated as offerings to his glory, to make him look good. When I obsess about my sins or my accomplishments, a queasy kind of self-absorption takes over. It’s no fun, and I turn away from Christ when I do that. Both failure and success go to him, and so I am freed from the burden of self.