derasha: parts
This Thursday, we will have our second of four Mid-Week Teachings. The title is, "Don't Hate Me Because I am Beautiful." We will explore the beauty of the Body when each part functions using his or her gifts. Below is an excerpt from Chapter 02 of Derasha: This Thing Called Church Vol. 002. If you would like more information on how to get a full copy of Derasha, please email me.02 Parts
The phone on my blue, spray-painted, synthetic wood table rang. The answering machine picked up the call. Beep. I listened as my friend Dan left a message. Dan was a youth pastor at the church where I had been volunteering as a leader in student ministry.
At this point in my life I had a Bachelor’s Degree in Communications but little direction. My professors told me that one could do whatever he or she wanted with this degree. My problem was that I did not know what I wanted. I had a job working second shift. During the day, I sat around my apartment. When Dan called, I was lying on my couch reading.
His voice came through the answering machine, and it echoed off the plaster walls and hard wood floors of the partially furnished apartment. He chatted for a time almost like he knew I was there listening to him. Then he said, “I need you to teach the students this Sunday. Could you speak about why Jesus did what he did?” I smiled nervously. My only confidence was my communications degree. I could do virtually anything with that degree.
Some time later I called him back and uneasily agreed to teach the students. It was Wednesday, which meant there were only three days to prepare something. Before going to work that evening, I found a stately volume of theology that taught about Atonement. After reading it over a few times, breaking the teaching down into three points (of course making sure each one started with the same letter), I finished it off with a riveting conclusion.
At this point in my life I had a Bachelor’s Degree in Communications but little direction. My professors told me that one could do whatever he or she wanted with this degree. My problem was that I did not know what I wanted. I had a job working second shift. During the day, I sat around my apartment. When Dan called, I was lying on my couch reading.
His voice came through the answering machine, and it echoed off the plaster walls and hard wood floors of the partially furnished apartment. He chatted for a time almost like he knew I was there listening to him. Then he said, “I need you to teach the students this Sunday. Could you speak about why Jesus did what he did?” I smiled nervously. My only confidence was my communications degree. I could do virtually anything with that degree.
Some time later I called him back and uneasily agreed to teach the students. It was Wednesday, which meant there were only three days to prepare something. Before going to work that evening, I found a stately volume of theology that taught about Atonement. After reading it over a few times, breaking the teaching down into three points (of course making sure each one started with the same letter), I finished it off with a riveting conclusion.
The next day, I met with a pastor friend of mine and proudly presented the outline of what was sure to be a masterpiece of oratory. He read it over, smiled, looked at me and said, “If you preach this to the middle school students, they will laugh you out of the room.” This was a minor set back.
We spent the next hours together as he helped me construct a teaching. He taught me about outlines, not using notes, telling stories and involving as many senses as possible in teaching. We looked through the Bible together asking questions of the Text. The next day we did more of the same. Collecting all of the notes, I typed an outline. We walked through it again on Saturday, and he just smiled and hugged me. The hug felt like the kind that you give to someone when something bad happens. He said, “Yep! You’ll be fine.” Again, something you say to someone when something bad happens.
On Sunday morning I stood up to teach. A few hundred middle-school students were looking at me as if they were begging me to say something to which they could bear to listen. At that moment my college degree meant nothing. In that silent moment, which was both a flash and an eternity, I began to speak from somewhere else.
The words coming out of my mouth weren’t just thoughts. These were things that were in my core. Every part of me wanted everyone in the room to learn what God was teaching me and experience life transformation. As I spoke, this deep sense of truly living captured me.
I finished and walked off the platform. I knew in that moment what I would do with the rest of my life. When God knit me together in my mother’s womb he had used the thread of a teacher. Leaving the building, I got into my car, and my future wife said to me, “You were totally you up there. You were fulfilled.” She saw it. I had discovered what I had to do, not just what I wanted to do.
The following week I hung out again with my pastor friend. He asked how it went, and I was unable to tell him. Tears were in my eyes, my knees were bouncing with excitement and all I could do was look at him. He said, “I knew it. You are a teacher. You are hardwired by God to live the life of a teacher.”
My gift had found me.
On Sunday morning I stood up to teach. A few hundred middle-school students were looking at me as if they were begging me to say something to which they could bear to listen. At that moment my college degree meant nothing. In that silent moment, which was both a flash and an eternity, I began to speak from somewhere else.
The words coming out of my mouth weren’t just thoughts. These were things that were in my core. Every part of me wanted everyone in the room to learn what God was teaching me and experience life transformation. As I spoke, this deep sense of truly living captured me.
I finished and walked off the platform. I knew in that moment what I would do with the rest of my life. When God knit me together in my mother’s womb he had used the thread of a teacher. Leaving the building, I got into my car, and my future wife said to me, “You were totally you up there. You were fulfilled.” She saw it. I had discovered what I had to do, not just what I wanted to do.
The following week I hung out again with my pastor friend. He asked how it went, and I was unable to tell him. Tears were in my eyes, my knees were bouncing with excitement and all I could do was look at him. He said, “I knew it. You are a teacher. You are hardwired by God to live the life of a teacher.”
My gift had found me.