School Memories
I remember very few of the specific assignments that I had in primary and secondary school. The only assignments that stand out in my memory are the ones that filled me with excitement and imagination and the ones that filled me with fear.
I remember reading A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle in sixth or seventh grade. I loved it. I still remember the characters, the brooding and brilliant Charles Wallace and his shy sister Meg, who becomes the story’s hero. I remember many of the specific scenes, such as the impromptu midnight snack that Meg and Charles share toward the beginning of the story during a terrible thunderstorm. I remember the lesson that the story taught me, namely that love is different than control. I don’t remember my book report or what grade I received for it.
On the other side of my memory, lies the terror of a ninth-grade English assignment, which was to memorize and recite in front of the class a Shakespearean sonnet. I was consumed with fear from the start. I began learning my lines from the first moment and practiced them day and night, even in the middle of other classes. I would freeze up with dread every time I could not remember a word. As it happens, I recited the sonnet perfectly, not missing a single word. I got a 100. A+. My teacher did make a comment about how my recitation lacked any sort of dramatic feeling, which does not surprise me one bit. I was feeling only one thing when I recited that sonnet. Fear. Interestingly, if you asked me which Shakespearean play we read in ninth grade, I couldn’t tell you. I don’t remember the play at all.
I find these contrasting experiences instructive. On the one hand, there is the motivation of fear. It is very effective. It got me an A+. But I don’t remember the Shakespearean play at all. (And to be quite honest, I don’t really like Shakespeare today! Is that a coincidence?) On the other hand, there is the motivation of curiosity and desire. It is very effective too, but in a very different way. I doubt that I received a 100 on my book report for A Wrinkle in Time. But what I did receive was a lasting impression, a story that has stayed with me since, a lesson that has informed the way I understand the world and live in it.
Teaching by Fear and
Teaching by Desire
Journalist and teacher Colman McCarthy makes a helpful distinction between two ways of teaching. One way is to teach by fear. He suggests that grading, testing, and homework are all common forms of this way of teaching. Their motivation is fear: fear of failure, fear of falling behind, fear of how others judge you. In this way of teaching, the main question that concerns people is, “What grade did you get?” Not “What did you learn?” or “How were you changed?”
The other way to teach is by desire. Teaching by desire has less to do with results and final product and more to do with questions and exploration and experience. It has less to do with the grade at the end of the course and more to do with cultivating curiosity at the beginning of the course.
I find this distinction between fear-based teaching and desire-based teaching helpful. Maybe it’s a bit simplistic. I can hear some people saying, “That sounds beautiful in theory, but is it practical to teach only by desire?” I don’t know if it’s practical. I have little training in pedagogy. What I do know is my experience. The lessons that have made an indelible impression on me, that have stayed with me long past the course itself, are not the ones where I got an A+ out of fear. They are the ones in which I was genuinely curious and interested.
Obedience Motivated
by Desire
“The love of God is this, that we obey his commandments.” (1 John 5:3). When I first read that line in today’s scripture, I paused in my tracks. It sounded a little off to me. I was a little repulsed to hear language of “commandments” right next to talk of God’s love. What I heard was, “If you love me, you’ll do what I tell you to do”—which sounds a little coercive, a little manipulative. It sounds like teaching by fear. It conjures in my mind the image of an authoritarian God who is less concerned with the spiritual freedom of love and more concerned that I do everything just the way he wants. What happened, I wondered, to my freedom in Christ (cf. Gal 5)?
I’m grateful that I kept reading, because it quickly became clear to me that John’s language of obedience is not coming from a tyrannical teacher. Rather, it is spoken out of care and concern and is addressed to our need—indeed, our desire. “The love of God is this, that we obey his commandments. And his commandments are not burdensome…” (1 John 5:3). That is, God’s commandments are not repressive; they are not spiritually constrictive. From this, I conclude that our obedience is not meant to be motivated by fear. Our obedience is not about trying to get it right, trying to get an A+. Rather, our obedience is meant to be motivated by desire for a better life, a desire for freedom from heavy burdens.
I find it telling that Jesus uses similar language, referring to his commandments as an “easy yoke” and promising “rest” from our “burdens”: “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” (Matt 11:28-29). This is the one place in the gospels where Jesus explicitly invites his disciples to “learn” from him. And in the Greek, “disciples” is more literally translated as “learners.” So, as “learners” of teacher Jesus, this is our lesson. This is what Jesus wants to teach. And it’s simple: “Learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart.”
Learning Jesus’
Gentle and Humble Heart
We are learning Jesus’ gentle and humble heart. Not because an authoritarian God is coercing us by means of fear and threats. But because we desire to lay our burdens down.
So how do we go about learning Jesus’ gentle and humble heart? Our scripture today talks about obeying God’s commandments. I don’t know about you, but when I hear the word “commandments,” my mind immediately goes to “the Ten Commandments” that God gave to Israel. Certainly these commandments are essential to a good way of life. They are a baseline. But will they alone bring rest to the soul? Will they address the host of burdens we carry, whether it’s our expectations and worry, or resentment and grudges, or greed for more?
Throughout the history of our faith, spiritual renewal groups (from the Desert Fathers and Mothers in 4th-century Egypt to the Anabaptists in 16th-century Europe to Stone and Campbell in the 19th century) have emerged to remind us that as followers of Christ we have a unique set of commandments given to us by Jesus. They’re not numbered in simple fashion like the 10 commandments. But if you do want to get a quick rundown of them, many of these spiritual renewal groups would point you to the Sermon on the Mount, which is Matthew 5-7. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus issues a series of invitations (or “commandments”) that distinguish his way from the way of the world, his adventurous, abundant life from the autopilot on which even good and law-abiding citizens live most of their lives.
If you have some free time this week, I would encourage you to read Matthew 5-7 slowly, thinking anew about what it would look like to obey Jesus’ commandments. “If a part of your life causes you to sin, tear it out, cut it off, throw it away” (5:27-30; my paraphrase). “Do not resist an evildoer” (5:39). “Give to everyone who begs from you” (5:42). “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (5:44). “No one can serve two masters…you cannot serve God and wealth” (6:24). “Do not worry about your life, what you will eat…what you will wear…but strive for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well” (6:25, 33). “Do not judge, so that you may not be judged” (7:1).
The gentle and humble heart of Jesus—which we are to learn and “obey,” by which we lay our burdens down—is all these things. It is, in summary, a heart of faith. Trust. It is not dominated by the need for results, for a profitable bottom line, for control or success. Rather, it is free from the slavery of results, the hollow quest for control. Thus it can be merciful, non-violent, generous, patient, compassionate to all. It trusts that God is working good in the world through these qualities, even if they do not manifest in the immediate results that are desired (…even if they end up putting you on a cross).
In our scripture today, John refers to this way of Jesus as “the victory that conquers the world.” By now it should be clear that this is not victory in the way our world understands victory. It is not a victory of getting our way. To get our way is usually to fight fire with fire. To get our way is like winning a battle…in a war we have already lost. The victory that conquers the world is a laying down of burdens rather than a taking up of arms. It is, as John says, “faith,” trusting and bearing witness to God’s love regardless of results. It is, to borrow from Paul, “not [being] overcome with evil, but overcom[ing] evil with good” (Rom 12:21).
Prayer
We follow you not out of fear
But out of desire:
We see in Jesus Christ
A way, a truth, a life
That we desire to live
…
When the world dullens our heart
And enslaves us to the need for results,
For control,
May we hear the call of Jesus
To lay our burdens down
And learn from his gentle, humble heart.
In Christ, our brother: Amen.
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