Atmosphere Creators

"Why didn't you punish us?" one of my most gregarious students asked seriously.  I had just returned to the classroom to rejoin my class, who had just had a difficult morning with a sub. The difficult, being on the part of the sub.  My kids had passed notes all day and been generally challenging.

We were walking down to lunch, and though I had had a serious talk with my students, I had not reamed them out, or punished them in any way.  My students had thought I was going to be super angry with them.

I tried to put into words for my student what I had learned years earlier, when subbing myself.

The leader creates the atmosphere.

While subbing, I learned that when I walked into a classroom, I determined the kind of day it would be.  If I was insecure and uptight and barked rules and was harsh in my attempts to be "strict", the students responded poorly.  

If I walked in confident, and smiled, and took time to learn everyone's name and build rapport, the day went much better. 

The exact day I learned it is imprinted on a page in my mind.  I was subbing at Minnehaha, a school I rarely went to.  I was feeling intimidated and scared.  And the first bit of the day hadn't gone well.  But, a DARE officer came in for a presentation.  I watched her energy, and her high level of confidence, and how she commandeered her audience.  And I decided to do the same. I faked it till I made it.

And it worked! That class, on their own, made me cards, which I still have today, 20 years later.  Ones that say "#1 Sub"  and "Please come back."  Once I realized how much my demeanor changed the outcome of a day, I made sure I was my best for every class.

So now, when I have a rough day with my class, I try to step back and see if I did anything that contributed to the problem.  Did I come to school in a bad mood?  If so, often my students might have picked up on that vibe and been grumpy with one another. They can't kick me, so they kick each other.

If I'm feeling goofy, and interrupt my kids over and over during class meeting to sing  "Why do birds, suddenly appear . . .every time youuuuuuuuuu are nearrrrrrrr?" my students get happy and relaxed.

So when someone else takes care of my charges, and has a hard time?  I am much less likely to point the finger at my students.  I want to know what the adult did.  Sometimes, we are asked to have a stern talking to with our class, for how our kids behaved in the lunchroom or other place.  I can't do it.  When kids whom I know, and whom are good for me most of the time, have an off period or day?  Hate to say it, but it's not always them.  Many times its the result of the environment an adult set up poorly.

And ultimately, the adult in charge, is responsible for the behavior their atmosphere created.

We are all leaders in different spheres.  Some as parents, some in our workplaces, some in our gym, or places of worship.  The atmosphere we create effects those we lead.  

It doesn't erase individual responsibility, but on our parts, if we don't like the results we're getting?  It might be time to examine ourselves, and consider how a change in us, can shift the atmosphere and change our outcome.

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Photocredit: Rocksee

https://www.flickr.com/photos/rocksee/2345513603/in/photostream/

We are the Church

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There are 2 words which disturb me deeply, because they contradict scripture, and yet have been accepted by most Christians as true.  Those 2 words are sociopath and psychopath.

Both disorders are characterized in part, by psychologists, as being individuals who are unable to empathize or show remorse.

The problem is, the Bible does not agree with these descriptions.  In Ecclesiastes 3:11, we learn that God has "set eternity" in the hearts of men.  We know from 1 Timothy 2:4 that God desires for all men to come to a knowledge of the truth.  This would not be possible if there were those born without a conscience.  (Apostasy is acknowledged in scripture.  However, apostasy comes AFTER one has known and had relationship with God.)

Sometimes, as believers we forget our charge to discern truth.  As society around us grows darker and darker, what seemed bad 20 years ago, doesn't seem so bad anymore.  If we hear things often enough, we begin to assimilate them into our world view, without checking them against scripture.

As salt and light in the world, we cannot afford to abdicate our responsibility to exercise discernment.  If we do, we lose what sets us apart and makes us the hope of the world.  

It always surprises me when I hear of Christians being sent to secular counselors and therapy groups.  Though psychology has things to contribute to our lives, and Christian therapists and authors such as John Townsend and Henry Cloud have contributed much to our understanding of the soul, the church IS the hope of the world.  It IS the vehicle God designed to effect change in the earth.  The Bible HAS the answers we seek.  A pastor familiar with the word always trumps an unbeliever with familiarity with textbooks, following the world's system.  

(I'm not judging individual believers who seek secular counseling.  I've been to secular counselors myself.)  But the counsel I've received from my pastors, has been 200 percent better than anything the world has offered.  

This isn't a post about psychology.  It's a post about discerning between dark and light, evil and good.  About not swallowing every idea that the world puts forth as truth.  It's about judging all things by the Word, and calling good those things God calls good, and rejecting what God rejects.

We are the church.  We are the hope of the world.  We are light, we are salt.  We must maintain the difference which sets us apart, if we are to accomplish the mission Jesus saved us for.  

Tennessee Road

Sandee Swarner and some of my Kentucky friends.

I had spent the summer in Kentucky at a small local church that was putting on a "Discipleship Training School" modeled after YWAM's program for their college and career-aged adults. We were driving back from a conference in North Carolina and by this time in the summer, the eight of us in the program had bonded deeply as a team, and loved being together. One person at a time had to take turns riding in the pastor's comfortable air-conditioned RV where the individual could stretch out and sleep. In the van, we were all scrunched, and hot all the time. Still we rotated turns in the RV, with the "loser" having to take their turn away from our little "family" and a summer's full of inside jokes and good-natured teasing and laughter.

My place in the van was at the base of the bump between the driver's seat and shotgun seat. I would sit there in bliss as Curt and Donald would innocently play with my hair and lightly massage my head. We had camped outside a church in North Carolina, and listened to some great teaching, ending our time in the state on the beach playing in the Atlantic. We were driving home at a leisurely pace, and had even stopped at one point to take a short hike.

As dinnertime approached, we were somewhere in Tennessee and for some reason unbeknownst to us, Pastor Billy was all of a sudden very concerned about time. We pulled into a fast food strip and Billy announced. "Everyone out! You have exactly 1/2 hour to eat and get back to the van. Anyone not back in 30 minutes will get left." We sized up the situation. The restaurants closest to us seemed packed and had a long wait.

And to be honest, we didn’t want what was close.   Kentucky Fried Chicken had caught our eye in the distance and even though we knew it might cost us, we wanted what we wanted.  Three of us decided to chance it. We booked it all the way there, collected our food and booked it back, planning to eat upon our return. We didn't make it.

When we arrived breathless, we found the rest of the team sitting at a picnic table waiting for us, Billy’s RV and the van long gone.  "We weren't going to leave you here by yourself," Curt said. "We stick together."  I remember cycling through emotions.  First, surprise.  There didn’t seem to be any real purpose behind our half-hour directive.  Then fear. I 100 percent believed that Billy had left for good, and as we discussed how to get home, it was clear that none of us had much money.  I envisioned having to call my parents and having to try to explain where I was, and why I needed hotel and bus fare.

Then, the anger came.  Who did this pastor think he was? Was he just being grumpy? Was he trying to teach us something?  Was there some reason we all of a sudden needed to rush that we all weren’t aware of?  And if so, why didn’t he explain it to us?  Why the leisurely pace all day, and then the sudden demand and hurry?

After about 45 minutes, Billy’s RV and the van pulled up to us.  Billy was quietly angry and ordered us all into the vehicles.  I had a couple of hours to cool down before I had to face Billy, and I needed every minute. 

It was one of the first times as a young adult that my will was crossed by a spiritual authority in my life.  Yes, I was attending a Bible College that had more rules than most, but most of the rules were common sense and didn’t bother me (at least until my Senior year when I spent a number of sessions with the Dean questioning each rule, confessing crimes, and asking for exceptions.)

I struggled, praying the whole time, patiently explaining to God (Who must have been watching the Middle East or something while all of this was going on) the situation and why the pastor was wrong.  It didn’t seem to matter.  God still expected me to apologize and forgive. And worse.  Submit.

We pulled over for gas and snacks and Billy one by one, found the 3 of us culprits.  After a couple hours with God, my heart had softened and I just wanted to have the confrontation over.  Billy came over to me, and warmly said something to the effect of “So, you made kind of a selfish decision back there.”  “Yes, I did,” I said.  “I’m sorry.”  He hugged me tight and said that I was the only one who hadn’t tried to justify my choice or offer an excuse.  Later, he used me as an example of the right way to repent and apologize. 

I never found out why we were asked to hurry.  I just know that God wanted me to learn to submit in the hard times----when there is seemingly no reason for the request----and when everything inside of me tells me that the person I’m being asked to submit to is wrong, and mean.

As a Christian, I believe that we are subject to the leaders of the land, our employers, and our spiritual leaders.  Are our leaders always right? No.  They are human like anyone else.  If we purpose to hold our hearts in submission and do what they ask of us, will that keep us from hurt? No. The path of Christendom is littered with believers who were hurt by leaders and dropped out of the race. 

But what I have learned? Is that God will honor us when we honor those who have charge over us.  When we choose to stop complaining (against the government, against our boss, against church polices or programs which we think we could design better).  When we choose instead to speak well of elected officials, go with the flow at work, and support and encourage our pastors and leaders, God blesses us.

Since that day in Tennessee, my will has been crossed a multitude of times by spiritual leaders. I used to look back to my Kentucky summer and think it was a time in a near-cult. The intense expectations put upon us, and the gentle but intense correction when we didn’t meet them, seemed over the top and abusive to me.

Now, after more than a few sessions of correction with other pastors, in Alaska, in New York, in my present church—I have other words for it.  Discipleship.  Mentoring.  Love.  Spiritual Parenting.  PASTORING.

Maybe someday I’ll thank Billy.