This hill though high I covent ascend; The difficulty will not me offend; For I perceive the way of life lies here. Come, pluck up, heart; let's neither faint nor fear.

Deliver me, O LORD, by your hand from those whose portion in life is this world. Psalm 17:14

Teach me, O LORD, the way of Your statutes, and I shall keep it to the end. Give me understanding, and I shall keep Your law; I shall keep it with all my heart. Make me go in the path of Your commandments, for that is my desire. Incline my heart to Your decrees and not to unjust gain. Turn my eyes from watching what is worthless; give me life in Your ways. Fulfill your promise to Your servant, which You make to those who fear you. Turn away the reproach which I dread, because Your judgments are good. Behold, I long for Your commandments; in Your righteousness preserve my life. Psalm 119:33–40

The third question asks: At what stage of life are you at?


This is certainly one of those verses that I have never particularly noticed before, but as a middle school teacher it strikes a whole new chord of terror…with just the slightest of paraphrasing…from those whose portion in life is middle school.

In fact, I often say that this is why I teach middle school, to defend those who need deliverance from the sleek, smug vicious ones who rule middle school with a sneer and disdaining word.

Because middle school is mostly the other sorts, the slightly trembling awkward ones desperately seeking validation mingled with creeping-around-the-edges anonymity. And they never quite measure up because they are eyeing a false scale of shimmering perfection that doesn’t really exist outside of eternity.

And like my Father who walks alongside me through this life, murmuring His love for me and His great validation of me, His beloved child, this is how I want to walk through my rather long day: You are loved. You are delightful. You have a purpose.

Because middle school, like life is not pretty. Yesterday my sub from last week left a little note tucked into my laptop: Hi. Not going to lie to you. This was ranked the #3 in the hardest classes I ever had since 2003. I had fights, one girl actually stabbed a boy with a pen, I had pens, pencils, markers and erasers thrown around and kids running out of class all of the time. I survived one whole week. I totally give you 100% credit for surviving as long as you have. Take care,

Because this is my stage in life right now. I have made it through the Slough and the Valley of Humiliation and Vanity Fair and now see the Delectable Mountains stretching with glorious perspective in the distance. And like my Abba Papa, I want to be a kind and wise Shepherd who encourages wayfarers along the path. Oddly enough it was the slightly frumpy old priest passing out rosaries on The Way that called me to make that pilgrimage.

And riding through the desert, those old Catalinas rise up in my distance, and once again remind me from whence comest my strength. And the rain-drenched creosote pierces through the early morning mist.

Turn my eyes from watching what is worthless; give me life in Your ways.

Are you willing for every stone to be turned over in your soul?

“Yet not what I will, but what You will.” Mark 14:36

Contemplation:  First of all, our proud self must be broken. Our own self must give up its rights. Our self is hard. It does not want to obey God. It likes to show that it is right. The self must bow to God’s will. It must confess that it is wrong. It must give up its own way. It must give up all its glory. Only in this way can the Lord Jesus have all and be all in our lives. We must die to self.

We look to Christ, who did not give himself to the approval of men, but entrusted himself to the Father.

During Lent, we are trying to make room in our lives for God to shed some light. God will shed light into the dark corners, but that kind of light can only be received with humility. Hession puts it this way: “The man who knows, day by day, the meaning of brokenness is the man who humbly agrees to what God shows him about himself.”

Well, if the purpose of this sabbatical was to refresh my relationship with God and break my Proud Little Self, there was no better plan of action that to return to the middle school classroom. God bless middle school teachers.

Self must obey God to love these little ones… and not to quote a coworker, “punch them in their little faces.” Self is challenged and questioned and threatened at every turn. Self must kneel gently by the side of yet another slightly trembling child shaking his head in front of a blank sheet of paper. Self points out to Self a continuous stream of not-quite-right responses to the flood of decisions that must be made minute after minute, hour after hour of shifting and readjusting even the most simple of lesson plans. And something else, not a single student smiled, “Thank you, Mrs. Voelkel,” as she made her way out the door. I am actually quite sure that not a single one of those 150 backpack bound bodies remembers what my name is.

And Hard Self will soften in the foundries of hurting confused overwhelmed lost angry lonely rejected failing frustrated thirteen-year-olds.

Oh yes, my eyes will be fixed on Christ.

Yes, Lord, shed light in my dark corners.

Break me.

I trust my Self into your tender hands, to be broken and offered up to the multitudes. That they might be filled.