Looking through the eyes of God

This morning my mind was on my sophomore English students, the novel we are reading, and their inevitable groanings. Turning to the daily readings, I read the words “he made of me a sharp-edged sword…he made me a polished arrow.” I was quite encouraged. I have presided over classrooms that have been a little duller than I would have liked, and written lessons that could have used some polishing. Perhaps the words of Isaiah were a good sign for the day, maybe my students would be unusually attentive and my instructions providentially poignant.

Then I read, “I had toiled in vain, and for nothing, uselessly, spent my strength.” Perhaps not. Perhaps my students will be raucous and wild, excited to talk about everything except grammar and blended sentences. Perhaps I will be coffeeless and humorless, and only succeed in getting half of what I want done. Perhaps I will return home exhausted, fall asleep on the couch, and miss my son’s bedtime.

These sort of days happen. They are a part of life, of all our lives. They are not what we set out to do, but sometimes the effort we put in is wasted, and our strength, our energy, disappears without a single positive change. The beauty of today's reading is a reminder of justice. A reminder that what we can see is not the only thing that matters. When we struggle and succeed in nothing, we do not go unrewarded. The reward we receive may not be a higher paycheck, or more pleasant students, or easier grading; it is greater than that. “[Our] recompense is with [our] God.” The eternal God, who judges our efforts not by their results but by our hearts. Though our efforts may seem to be in vain, they are earning for us “a weight of eternal glory beyond all comparison.” Christ came to save the human race. He spent his life, all of his energy. He sweat blood, watered the ground with his tears, walked thousands of miles. He raised the dead, healed the sick, opened the eyes of the blind and the ears of the deaf. What was the reward of his effort? The fruit of his labor? A whipping that removed the skin from his back and nails through his hands and feet. A grim reward, by the measure of the world.

We are children of God, and we are not to measure as the world measures, or to judge as the world judges. We are to look through the eyes of God. The cross is not a defeat, it is the greatest victory. So maybe my classroom, and my exhaustion, is not a defeat. Maybe the victory is simply giving everything I have.

Author: Drew Maddox, English Department