I started to teach Sunday school at church a few years ago when our youth pastor asked me whether I’d be willing to help out with the 8th grade class. I agreed, thinking that it was only a temporary assignment, and, as they say, the rest is history. The youth pastor recently offered me to teach the 12th graders, and I am very eager to take on this challenge, not only because my son happens to be in the class, but also because I became a Christian 30 years ago, during the summer prior to 12th grade, and my first Sunday school teachers, Tien and Cheryl, were both medical students. This therefore is an opportunity for me, now a full-grown physician, to give back all the life-changing ministry which I received back then.
One of the great joys of Sunday school ministry is that I get to see many of my students continue to grow and mature in the Lord. I remember hearing testimonies of people with near-death experiences recalling being at the threshold of Heaven and being greeted by significant people in their lives, including parents, grandparents, other loved ones, and Sunday school teachers. Hopefully, if I get there first, I’ll be among the ones to greet my students. It will be sooooo exciting to see them saved by grace, justified by Christ's righteousness, sanctified, and with glorified, imperishable bodies.
Unfortunately, I am also tormented, knowing that many of my students will not be there, because they have rejected the faith of their parents and the Gospel message. I know, because at least once a year I would ask my students questions like, "Raise your hand if you are a Christian", "If you die tonight, do you know for certain that you are going to Heaven?", "Do you believe the message of the Gospel?", and "What is the Gospel message?" The responses have unfortunately been very disappointing. Many highly intelligent, academically, athletically and musically accomplished children of God-fearing parents either do not care about God, do not have any desire to live under God's presence (as if we even have a choice to hide from God), or openly reject the message of the Gospel. I often ask myself whether it is because of something I said or shouldn't have said, and am afraid that I might have caused some to choose Hell rather than Heaven, to choose temporal, sinful pleasures instead of eternal life under God's presence. I feared for my own soul, as teachers are admonished by the apostle Paul that they would be judged more strictly. Woe to me if I cause one of these young ones to fall!
Thankfully, the Lord addressed my anxieties via the words in John's gospel. For many years I didn't like the book of John as much as the other gospels, because it seems so tedious, and Jesus' words and prayers just went on and on and on through those really long verses and chapters. However, as I studied God's word more, those words came alive and became so meaningful. It recorded these words of Jesus:
All that the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never cast out. For I have come down from heaven not to do my own will, but to do the will of him who sent me. And this is the will of him who sent me, that I should lose nothing of all that he has given me, but raise it up on the last day. For this is the will of the Father, that everyone who looks on the Son and believes in him should have eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. (John. 6:37-40)
Jesus came to earth in order that every person that God the Father ordained before the creation of the universe to be saved would be saved. Christians are the Father's gift to the son, and Jesus promised that not even one of those that the Father gives to him would be lost. Not even one! That is great assurance for me, because whether my students believe depends not on my providing convincing arguments about the Gospel, or being clever and funny, or being a good salesman for Jesus. It is God's work and His doing. When I teach, I am only an instrument in the Master's hand. It matters not whether I am a paintbrush, a pencil, a chisel, a shovel or a sledgehammer in God's hand, I need only to do my job faithfully. If my students truly understand the depravity of their condition, truly repent, truly believe that Jesus came to earth to die for sinners, that he rose from the dead, and that Christ's righteousness is imputed to those who believe and call him both Lord and Savior, all the glory belongs to God. It is nothing that I have accomplished. Conversely, if they do not believe after I have given my best efforts, I need not despair of my performance. To paint a picture you need the canvass, a bunch of paint, brushes, solvents and all sort of stuff. If God meant me to be a pencil for the first sketch, I may be indispensable, but also be totally invisible in the end. The important thing is not me, and it is not people. It is God. I only need to worry about being the best pencil or sledgehammer that I can be, to be used for His glory.
And, I look forward to having the most joyful Sunday school reunion when we the Lord calls us home!
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Saturday, September 14, 2013
Fan Support
"Hey, you are wonderful!...I admire you!...You are great!...I love you!...Thank you for being who you are!..."
It was a cool June Sunday morning in San Diego, and this thin, graying man in a T-shirt and running shorts appeared to have been belting out these phrases like a recording for at least half an hour by the time I passed him. Oh, please, don't say that you love me. That would be awkward....
"Sir, you are an inspiration to me!"
"Thank you!" I quickly responded as I breathlessly ran past him. Whew, that was close. I didn't know who this man was, but I had seen him at roughly the same spot at the San Diego Rock 'n' Roll Marathon several years in a row. 26 miles and 385 yards is a beast of a distance for a race, and this man was on a mission to make it just a little easier. He had no clue who most of the roughly 30,000 runners were, but no one seemed to complain. As the race unfolded, other spectators also yelled out words of encouragement. "Looking good, Glenn!" (I had my name on the race bib) "Good job! Keep it up!" "It's all downhill after another mile!" "Nice legs!"
When people ask me why I'd put my body through the torture of marathons, I often reply that it's cheaper than psychotherapy. You pay a nominal fee, then go run down the street to have people say that you're wonderful, you look good, and pretend that you are some sort of a big deal. Bands play for you. Japanese taiko drummers rouse you with thundering rhythms. During a half-marathon in Los Angeles, we were greeted with bone rattling pulsations by a high school drum line as we emerged from a tunnel. The sensation was surreal.
However, those drums, bands and encouraging fans paled in comparison to the Wellesley College girls near the halfway point of the Boston Marathon. Runners, from elite athletes to back-of-the-pack qualifiers, are greeted by the "wall of sound" that is audible more than one mile away, and the sound rises steadily for several minutes until they are met by a screaming frenzy of college women waving arms, banners and "kiss me" signs. The reception is reminiscent of the Beatles appearing at the Ed Sullivan Show. I seriously want to qualify for Boston again, if only to relive the thrill of the Wellesley sonic boom.
Jesus did not run marathons when he lived among us in the flesh, but he was no stranger to being the attention of large gatherings. As his reputation grew, great crowds followed him as he healed the sick, taught about the kingdom of heaven, and fed many thousands of men, women and children with only a few small loaves of bread and some fish. Crowds also appeared days before his crucifixion, laying down palm branches before him and crying "Hosanna!" Yet, Jesus did not come to earth to receive admiration, praises and glory from men. He came with another purpose:
For I have come down from heaven not to do my own will but the will of him who sent me. (John 6:38)
Jesus' life on earth was an act of obedience to the Father, such that...
And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. (Philippians 2:8)
Jesus never succumbed to pride as the crowds gathered with increasing strength. Instead,
But he would withdraw to desolate places and pray. (Luke 5:16)
May we be eternally grateful for Jesus' single-minded submission to the Father's will and love for us, such that when crowds gathered one last time around Jesus, shouting "crucify him!", he responded in near solitude on the cross with the words, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." (Luke 23:34)
Should we not seek to please God, rather than to merely hope for the praise of men, and of a few thousand screaming college coeds?
It was a cool June Sunday morning in San Diego, and this thin, graying man in a T-shirt and running shorts appeared to have been belting out these phrases like a recording for at least half an hour by the time I passed him. Oh, please, don't say that you love me. That would be awkward....
"Sir, you are an inspiration to me!"
"Thank you!" I quickly responded as I breathlessly ran past him. Whew, that was close. I didn't know who this man was, but I had seen him at roughly the same spot at the San Diego Rock 'n' Roll Marathon several years in a row. 26 miles and 385 yards is a beast of a distance for a race, and this man was on a mission to make it just a little easier. He had no clue who most of the roughly 30,000 runners were, but no one seemed to complain. As the race unfolded, other spectators also yelled out words of encouragement. "Looking good, Glenn!" (I had my name on the race bib) "Good job! Keep it up!" "It's all downhill after another mile!" "Nice legs!"
When people ask me why I'd put my body through the torture of marathons, I often reply that it's cheaper than psychotherapy. You pay a nominal fee, then go run down the street to have people say that you're wonderful, you look good, and pretend that you are some sort of a big deal. Bands play for you. Japanese taiko drummers rouse you with thundering rhythms. During a half-marathon in Los Angeles, we were greeted with bone rattling pulsations by a high school drum line as we emerged from a tunnel. The sensation was surreal.
However, those drums, bands and encouraging fans paled in comparison to the Wellesley College girls near the halfway point of the Boston Marathon. Runners, from elite athletes to back-of-the-pack qualifiers, are greeted by the "wall of sound" that is audible more than one mile away, and the sound rises steadily for several minutes until they are met by a screaming frenzy of college women waving arms, banners and "kiss me" signs. The reception is reminiscent of the Beatles appearing at the Ed Sullivan Show. I seriously want to qualify for Boston again, if only to relive the thrill of the Wellesley sonic boom.
Jesus did not run marathons when he lived among us in the flesh, but he was no stranger to being the attention of large gatherings. As his reputation grew, great crowds followed him as he healed the sick, taught about the kingdom of heaven, and fed many thousands of men, women and children with only a few small loaves of bread and some fish. Crowds also appeared days before his crucifixion, laying down palm branches before him and crying "Hosanna!" Yet, Jesus did not come to earth to receive admiration, praises and glory from men. He came with another purpose:
For I have come down from heaven not to do my own will but the will of him who sent me. (John 6:38)
Jesus' life on earth was an act of obedience to the Father, such that...
And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. (Philippians 2:8)
Jesus never succumbed to pride as the crowds gathered with increasing strength. Instead,
But he would withdraw to desolate places and pray. (Luke 5:16)
May we be eternally grateful for Jesus' single-minded submission to the Father's will and love for us, such that when crowds gathered one last time around Jesus, shouting "crucify him!", he responded in near solitude on the cross with the words, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." (Luke 23:34)
Should we not seek to please God, rather than to merely hope for the praise of men, and of a few thousand screaming college coeds?
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