Wrestling

Well- I am 11 weeks into my teaching career and I am still standing, breathing, and functioning. Sort of. If I have learned anything the past couple of weeks- I have learned how to cope. Cope with the changes in my classroom, cope with the stress, cope with the ups and downs of my friends with autism, cope with every emotion possible. And I'll tell you one thing, I have never learned so much about myself from five little boys under the age of 9 than I ever could of imagined possible.

In our classrooms, we don't like change WHAT-SO-EVER. Changing our schedule is almost a life or death situation in here. But the thing is- when I think about my life and the way I handle change or loss of control- I react the same way if not worse.I began to see a parallel with their reactions in my classroom as a clear depiction of my reaction to Jesus. My friends in my classroom will wrestle with me for hours on end when it comes to change. As I am learning better ways to reach my kids- I start to change the activities or ways I interact with them to only benefit them. And with this comes kicking, screaming, throwing, crying, and everything in between. And lots of it. For the most part, I have learned how to successfully meet them whenever they are mentally, emotionally, physically, you name it- and calm them down. It has become completely natural to me and honestly I don't even think twice about it. But then comes a hard day- when you are tested all day. And in one of these moments it hit me like a ton of bricks.

The moment was so convicting and so intentional by God that it completely overwhelmed me. That's me. That's me kicking, screaming, running, crying, and throwing when God's plans aren't mine. That's me wrestling with Him. Trying to have tight grip of every situation in order for it to go my way. But here's the thing- when my kids react this way, I know in the long run that I am only helping them. Benefiting them. Choosing them. Loving them. Protecting them. If only they would let go of control and know that I deeply care for them and only want the best for them. Easy right? Wrong. In my student's reactions- I saw myself. I saw me wrestling with God and trying every possible tactic to get out of the situation, not realizing that He has it all under control. Every plan, dream, hope, desire, and wish I could possibly want is going to be immeasureably more than I could of ever asked for. If only I would stop wrestling and rest in the fact that He's got it. And even though there are moments when I fail miserably and my confidence as their teacher is deminishing by the second, He's got it. I can choose to not trust him, to be disobedient, and wrestle an unending fight with Jesus. OR- I can rest.

After a long day of wrestling, eventually a peace came over my classroom. And that wrestling faded away. But at the end, there was pure exhaustion. Exhaustion from all the energy used to fight and maintain that control that had been taken away. And in all these moments, I could only feel conviction. And once again, I saw myself. I've been in those moments when I am so exhausted that I just can't give anymore energy. And those moments are when I find God's grace the most. When I think about the times I have completely surredended to Jesus- I am reminded of only the goodness. I want that for my life. I want to wake up every day in God's grace and remember His faithfulness. I want to be reminded that the wrestling is just simply a waste of energy and time. I want moments like these in my classroom where I am completely convicted by an intentional God. I want nothing more that to trust His plans and know that no matter how many times I toil with Him away like my kids do with me- He's got me in mind. He's always had me in mind. And I always have my kids in mind. If I had just trusted His plan, all of that energy could of be saved for something much greater. So instead of wrestling, I'll surrender. Because after all, He's got me.
We are sinful. He is steadfast. We are fearful. He is faithful. We are broken. He binds up. We cherish idols. He cherishes us.