Teachers and professors run the gamut from excellent and engaging to pitiful and boring. We’ve probably all had both. And we remember those most representing the extreme ends of the spectrum. A standout from the first group for me was my 11th grade History teacher, Mr. Gould. He was the first to make that subject appealing to me, once leaping onto his desk and ‘machine gunning’ us all to illustrate war tactics. (probably would be frowned upon today.) Unfortunately, it was a bit late to catch up on all the previous years’ material which had failed to stir interest in my soul. As I continue to accumulate my own history (high school graduation 50 years ago this year!) I regret more and more all that excessive doodling during certain classes. At the opposite end, was the dearest man who shall remain unnamed. He was my professor for an evening Bible Study course from 7-10 PM twice weekly. Monotone. Soft-spoken. So infinitely kind, but wakefulness-defying. (can you sleep with your eyes open?)

Jesus was the ultimate teacher, hampered, perhaps, by a roster of twelve doodlers. It might be that he intended, post-Resurrection, to run an eight-hour intensive to make sure all his ‘students’ were up to speed on all things Kingdom before heading back to his Father. Upon discovering their notebooks profusely decorated with landscape sketches, fishing scenes, and much undecipherable scratching, he would have quickly realized that a longer refresher was called for. It would take a full fifty days! I picture Jesus intensely animated (a la my Mr. Gould) as he sought to captivate his audience as he vividly portrayed the power and majesty and beauty of the Kingdom which had broken in to their world and the open invitation to all his followers to live ‘in’ it. That invitation, now two thousand years strong, is ours, and ours to be making known. Are we good students? I’m reminded of a highway billboard from several years ago. It was completely black with white lettering: “Don’t make me come down there.” GOD

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