“Simon Peter replied, ‘Lord, to whom would we go? You have the words that give eternal life’” (John 6:68).
One morning I was in a kindergarten class doing my student teaching for my degree in Music Education. Everything was tiny: the tables, chairs, people, toys and even the bathroom. The guitar seemed big compared to the kids. But their hearts were greater than all the teacher’s hearts.
Filled with joy, energy and total conviction, they practiced part of a type of song called a “Cueca” by Sebastian Monk which went, “In my teacher all the things I still have to learn are found, and her words rain as beautifully as dew at dawn….In my teacher all the answers I still have to hear are found…”
When I heard them singing that simple, precious melody, I couldn’t help thinking about Jesus and how those same words could be applied to Him as our Teacher.
When they saw their teacher coming, they all ran up to her to hug her and show her their love. But I was surprised that they were showing that love to someone who a short time before had scolded them.
Those children knew that true love includes times of reflection and guidance that sometimes imply scolding. They knew that when someone places limits, it’s because they really care. They knew that, behind that command for silence, there was a heart full of love that spent every day teaching them and guiding their growth. They knew that the person who was asking them to respect their classmates and teachers was the same and only one who knew whose backpack and coat were whose, who had a hard time asking for forgiveness and who found it easier to share.
How much of what we do shows we understand God’s love that way?
The disciples couldn’t depart from ”the teaching of Christ, His lessons of love and mercy, to the darkness of unbelief, the wickedness of the world…. The very thought of losing this anchor of their souls filled them with fear and pain…While we cannot now comprehend the works and ways of God, we can discern His great love, which underlies all His dealings with men“ (The Desire of Ages, ch. 41, pp. 393, 394).