Watch Where You're Going

Blog: Keep Your Eyes on Jesus

I was a typical teenager. I couldn’t wait to turn sixteen and get my driver’s license. But somebody had to teach me how to drive. My father had no patience. I dreaded the thought of getting behind the wheel with him in tow. My mother was a nervous driver, and she was scared to teach me how to drive. Fortunately, my sweet patient Uncle Jimmy offered to teach me.

In our small town, there was an old two-lane bridge that had no shoulder at all. From almost anywhere else in town, this bridge had to be crossed to get to and from our house. I remember the first time I had to drive across that bridge. About half way across, I saw a semi coming toward me. I didn’t see how there was space for us to pass one another without colliding. It seemed huge, and we weren’t in a small vehicle either. I was driving my uncle’s brand new 1968 Cadillac. In ’68, most cars were about the size of a boat.

As the truck came near, I considered my choices. Would it be better to die from a head-on collision with a truck or to drown in the car after going head-long over the bridge into the river below? Then I heard my uncle’s gentle voice, “Keep your eyes on the road ahead. Where you look is where you will go.” I hadn’t realized it, but I was veering towards the truck. In my fear, I was watching it instead of the road. Per instruction, I looked ahead, and the car righted itself. We easily passed each other without incident.

My uncle did not intend to state a spiritual truth, but that’s exactly what he did. The apostle Peter, was able to walk on the water as long as he kept his eyes on Jesus. When he looked down toward the roiling sea, he began to sink. My uncle was so right. We will go where our eyes take us, so we need to keep them focused on the Lord, or we may sink into dangerous waters or run head on into a powerful semi.

Intentional Kindness

 

After church, one morning, I went to retrieve four-year-old Jonathan from his class. His teacher asked to speak with me for a moment. I wondered if Jonathan had done something wrong. My mind momentarily went into defense mode, but I patiently waited to see what she had to say. She took me by surprise when her eyes began to tear up. She said that they had a new child visit class that day. He was blind. She said the other children stared at first; then, they went about their play, ignoring him. He couldn’t participate in the same way they did. Jonathan was the one exception. She said he asked the boy if he would like to build something with him. When the child said yes, Jonathan guided him to the blocks. They sat down and played and laughed.  When the visiting family came to pick up their son, they were thrilled that he had found a new friend.

The teacher praised my husband and me for teaching Jonathan to be sensitive to the needs of others, especially those who were “different”. My mother’s pride welled up within me for a few minutes, but then I realized that we weren’t responsible. God had placed a tender spot, within him, that naturally reached out to those in need.

I like to think that I am kind to all people. But, I was compelled to question myself that day. Did I intentionally look for opportunities to engage those who might feel excluded from social interactions, or did I allow perceived differences to keep them at a distance? Jesus didn’t just give the shunned lepers a kind word; He embraced them. In his own way, little Jonathan did the same thing with a blind child. If a four-year-old instinctively responds with intentional kindness, why don’t I?

A Stone Fox and a King

Memory Series – Emotions & Stories

A friend of mine was concerned when her son went to high school. He had a learning disability, and his grades were less than stellar. She was afraid high school would be destructive to his sense of self-worth.

One of his first writing assignments in Language Arts was something like this: What is your favorite book? Expound on this; describe your personal experience with the piece of literature. My friend asked her son what he had written about. His favorite book was Stone Fox, a novel that his teacher had read to his 4^th grade class. She was surprised he remembered it. He recalled that at the end, when a dog died, the entire class was in tears, including the teacher. When she closed the book the room was totally silent for a moment. The class shared an experience that was relatable to all of them. There were no snickers about tears, because they were one in that emotional moment. The young man made an excellent grade, and his mom stopped worrying so much. She told me about this, because I was his 4^th grade teacher. She wanted me to know I made a lasting impression on her son by introducing this book to him.

Think about the books you’ve read and the movies you’ve seen. What are your  favorites? Chances are, they were ones in which you laughed out loud or you shed tears. I laughed with abandon when I first saw Robin Williams as Mrs. Doubtfire, and I couldn’t stop the tears when I read Corrie ten Boom’s The Hiding Place. Storytelling often goes hand in hand with an emotional component. It is one of the greatest tools we have to stimulate memory.

When teaching the history of early Germanic tribes, I would talk about Charlamagne, King of the Franks. I told my students of my German heritage and explained that my maiden name was Franks. I told them that a missed question on most tests would only count four or five points against them. However, I personally thought odds were that I was probably of royal heritage. I was a Franks from Germany, so my guess was  Charlamagne was my Great, Great, Great, however many Greats, Grandfather. Though I could accept most errors on a test, I would consider it to be a personal affront to my family if they failed to remember dear Great Grandpa was King of the Franks.

Ten or twelve years after I left that school and moved to another state, I returned to the area for a wedding. At the reception, I heard the loud voice of a young woman proclaim, “Charlamagne, King of the Franks”! Sure enough, it was a former student.

Yes, this was a silly story. It’s unlikely I would have any relation to this royal family. I said it, because I was looking for the information to stick, and it served its purpose.

When moved to laughter or tears, or even better, both, we will likely remember the experience for years to come. Some African tribes have passed down their history through tribal griots, storytellers. This oral history has sufficed for centuries, because the gifted storyteller has woven history into a relatable, emotional tale that each parent is inspired to tell their children.

Stories, with emotions, are powerful in their ability to instill long-term memory. When working with children or the aging, tell stories. Laugh and cry together. Create a shared moment that you will both love to remember.