Teach.

Last week I attended the Oklahoma State Department of Education’s Vision 2020 Conference: Stepping Up. It was a refreshing week of professional development, where I learned a few more things before I begin my entry year of teaching. While I was there, I ran into two of my high school teachers/coaches. We reminisced of the days when I was their student, which welcomed a time of reflection the next couple of days of my entire educational experience and all my previous educators.

As an education major, I was always given a hard time that my major was a blow-off, easy, and pointless choice. People always joked with me that all I did was color and play in my early childhood courses. I was never given a coloring sheet as an assignment and playing is not just playing—it is how young children learn. Nevertheless, what bothered/bothers me most to hear is the ignorant quote: “Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.” What ignorance! I know there are a few teachers out there who we can thank for such a stereotype. I was a student of some. The number of good educators I encountered outweighed the number of poor ones greatly, though.

So, this post is for those educators of excellence I had the honor and privilege to learn from—the ones that I will strive to be like through my career, the ones who could have done anything, but CHOSE to teach, and the ones who LOVE to teach. They do so much more than we realize.

(DISCLAIMER: This blog is approximately 18 years in the making; I know I will forget lessons and stories about some of the most amazing teachers. If I wrote about every one, this would be considered a book.)

Teachers teach.

In kindergarten, I learned the importance of hand washing thanks to my teacher who had us place our dirty, playground hands into slices of bread that we hid away for a few days. When we pulled them out, I will never forget what I saw. GROSS! To this day, I am extremely conscious about germs and regularly washing my hands. My kindergarten teacher also receives the credit for teaching me the difference between the words “but” and “butt.” I am sure she would be happy to know I still laugh about that week of sight words. It was a life-changing lesson that is for sure.

A teacher I had in seventh grade had us keep a lexicon journal. We learned a new word every day. I still use several of the words today, including “parched.” She developed my love of language and my vocabulary by the lexicons, but I would have to say that those were not the most important lessons she shared. No, the most important ones were the life lessons she gave throughout knowing her—whether in her classroom or driver’s education. One lesson I regularly think about was a lesson on being comfortable with silence. As a person who enjoys talking, I realized on that day that it is okay to be quiet. It is okay to be comfortable in silence with the person I am with. (My husband probably greatly appreciates that I was taught this lesson then).

Teachers encourage.

As a second grader, I decided I liked to write. During my free time at school, I would jot short stories down in my notebook. Most of them were addressed to my teacher. I would take each one up to her to read. She had twenty other children to tend to, a ton of tasks to be completed, and a tray of papers that actually had to be graded, but she read them. She wrote little notes back to me about each one. Her little notes of encouragement perhaps are the reason I still enjoy writing today and have this blog.

I had a coach early on in high school that had an interesting way of encouraging me. I ran track for him and his love for track and field was contagious. I had never enjoyed running “for no reason” prior to knowing him. During practice, he would time my races and record my long jumps. He would always shed two seconds from my run time and nearly add a foot to my distance. Two seconds is a huge difference in the 200 meter dash and twelve inches is a monumental difference in a long jump. The crazy thing is, I believed him. I thought I was as fast as he said and jumped as far as he said. I noticed the discrepancy at actual meets later on, but by that time, I had realized his tactic had given me much needed self-confidence in a land of girls with very long legs. I was a regional champion in long jump as a freshman thanks to him.

Teachers broaden horizons.

English classes had always come easily to me and became my favorite subject early on. I thought since I loved English, I was supposed to hate Math. I came into my Geometry class with a poor attitude towards Math. After having the teacher I did for Geometry, Algebra II, and Trigonometry, I began to like it. He was a quirky Math teacher who was not afraid to answer my one million and one questions and explain just why I needed to know this for my daily life. Even though I cannot remember any of the reasons now, I know he believed in what he was teaching me, which made me much more apt to listen.

Another teacher throughout high school took it upon himself to teach me anything and everything about the agriculture world. As a farmer’s daughter, I only thought I knew a lot. He definitely expanded my horizons by teaching me several lessons I would have never learned from anyone else. I can recognize different breeds of pigs, sheep, and cattle. I still recite the FFA Creed on occasion and know how to weld without burning my bangs off my head.

Teachers love.

My first grade teacher went through a not so fun experience with me while I was in her class. From the week before spring break to the last day of school that year, I made myself sick every single morning so that I may not have to stay at school. Instead of letting me leave every day, she gave me a can of Sprite and a packet of crackers and would hold my hand in moments of fear to keep me there. She would not let one poor teacher ruin my entire experience. I am forever grateful for the love she showed. If not for her, I would probably not have liked school for the remainder of my time and definitely would not have been inclined to choose the profession I have.

Although I learned many, many things from my fourth grade teacher (like the 50 states and capitals that I still know today thanks to her jingles), I remember her love the most. She greeted each student outside her door every morning with a hug or handshake. She created personal “happy birthday” songs for each of her students. (Mine included a line about dodo birds!) Oh! And she had the most creative way of getting rid of the hiccups... She was absolutely outstanding!

Teachers care.

Coaches often come and go rather quickly in small schools. My first two years of high school basketball, my team won one game. It was not fun. I dreaded game days. I dreaded practices after losing by fifty points. I dreaded another season of the same ol’, same ol’. Well into the summer before my junior year, we did not have a coach. Who would want to take on this challenge? One guy did. He asked for my team—my team of misfits. It was not Burger King; we could NOT have it our way, but his care to take the challenge of coaching us was inspiring to me. After all, he asked for us. He wanted to coach us. He was not made to do it. My senior year we made it to the regional tournament for the first time in over a decade all because he chose to care.

In college, I took a general education course where the professor had multiple sections with over sixty students in each. She made it her goal to get to know every one of her students’ names. I was a non-major who, even after years of exposure, did not care for the content area she taught; that did not matter. I enjoyed going to her class because I knew she cared about me as a person. After the semester I had her in class, she would still stop me across campus, calling me by name, having meaningful conversations about life. At graduation, as I was walking off the stage from receiving my diploma, she called me by name. She gave me a congratulatory hug and told me how proud she was of me. She cared.

Teachers prepare their students for the real world.

I had the same science teacher all four years of high school. He was a great teacher that helped me actually understand science by his intriguing stories. Having him four years in a row, we heard the same stories on the same topics each year. By our senior year, all of us students would just giggle uncontrollably each time we heard a familiar line. He is the high school teacher that prepared me for college the most. He formatted his lectures in the exact same way most of my college courses did. Thanks to him, I knew what to expect.

I was a one-girl track team the majority of high school. Not many people want to work with just one person. One coach did. And although I thought he was unfair and mean when he told me I had to work out twice a day (athletic hour and after school), it made me better. I contemplated quitting every time he made me do the same workout as the boys and I would get smoked, but it made me better. He taught me how to push limits that I had placed on myself. He taught me how to persevere, even when I did not want to.

Teachers become friends.

Administrators can make or break a school. I would say the best administrators involve themselves in their students’ lives. I had a superintendent that left his door open. Anyone could waltz in when he was not busy, have some candy, and talk about anything. We talked about the day, the weather, the news, the game the night before, my family, life’s big decisions, etc. He became a part of my family. I literally call him “Uncle.” He calls and leaves me a voicemail every year on my birthday and I call him to help me make decisions.

Some teachers I was not able to have in class, but I still developed a relationship with. They would spend their lunchtimes or planning periods just listening to me ramble on and on about my life. In junior high, any thing that happens feels like the end of the world. They did not push me or any of my peers away. They just listened. They were friends.

Teachers go above and beyond.

One day in junior high, I was wandering the halls, trying to remain the invisible 7^th grader that I was when tons of freshmen started to approach me. “Why did you scratch our English teacher?” they asked. “Um, uh, uh…I didn’t. I have no idea what you are talking about,” I managed to stammer out. Soon after, I hear a voice calling me to her door. “I am so sorry for the confusion, I forgot to tell my class that I have a cat named Madison.” Instant connection. We bonded immediately. I had her for three classes during high school. She attended every sporting event she could of her students to take pictures for the yearbook; she even caught a shot of me crossing the finish line at a track meet that proved I deserved the gold medal instead of the silver. I graduated. She retired. We still keep in touch. She has not missed celebrating any of my special moments. I receive the sweetest cards and gifts upon every special occasion. There is nothing that says she has to do that, yet she still does.

I can easily say that every teacher I had changed my life. They each taught me a lesson that I still can recall to this day or a skill that I still use. One professor in college became my mentor. She is a genius of early childhood education. She has taught me more than she will ever know. I often find myself thinking “WWCD?” when I cannot figure out exactly what to do for my classroom. I can call her, text her, run into her at the store and she will just share her experiences and wisdom with me. I want to be just like her. I really do.

These are only a few lessons I learned and stories of some of the most superior teachers on the planet! They do not receive the credit they deserve. I am PROUD to be entering into the greatest profession possible. I hope to teach, inspire, encourage, and love my students the way my teachers demonstrated to me.

I could have been a brain surgeon.

How do I know?

A teacher told me I could.

I will change the world by being a teacher.

How do I know?

A teacher showed me I could.

Just a Teacher...

I heard you say the other day,

“Oh, you’re just a teacher anyway.

You laugh and play your day away.

You’re free at three, have your summers off.”

You snickered softly and even scoffed.

I’m sad to say, that you just don’t see,

What being a teacher means to me.

Sure, I laugh and play my day away…

Because learning is fun and that’s just my way.

If I were free at three and had my summers off,

I’d too snicker softly and even scoff…

Unfortunately my paycheck does, but I do not.

But you see Good Sir, Ma’am, Madam, or Miss

Being just a teacher is much more than this.

I just teach your child to read and write,

To just explore and question,

To just think and be bright.

I just dry their tears when they’re having a bad day.

I’m just there for them in each and every way.

Your most precious asset just deserves a lot.

And being just a teacher, I am not.

I dare you to just take a closer look.

For being just a teacher doesn’t come in a book.

It comes from the heart and it’s a passion, you see.

So, being JUST a teacher is fine by me!

Isaiah 61.

Just a few weeks ago, I began a journey through Isaiah. I have read the book of Isaiah several times, but I wanted to approach this time differently. I wanted to read it like I had never read it before. We all know how it feels to read a story or watch a movie for the first time. It is exciting! We are on the edge of our seats, anticipating what is going to happen next. Even if it becomes our favorite movie that we watch every free weekend or we appreciate the novel so much that we decide to read it every summer, it is different because we are already familiar with the story line. We hear all the time and read in Hebrews 4:12 that the Word is living and active. In just my few weeks in this book, I can definitely attest to Hebrews 4:12. I have seen new things within passages and seen things differently in the very familiar passages.

Every day I am amazed by God’s omniscient power. In reading the pages of Isaiah, the amazement grows. He calls Isaiah (whose name means "The LORD saves") in the first few chapters and reveals occurrences to come. Babylon is going to take Judah captive for 70 years. It has not even occurred yet, and will not for about a century and a half, but God already starts revealing how He will rescue Judah. Oh, but also within the passages of rescue, God is revealing what is coming in the much later future—the Messiah—the One who will eternally rescue His people.

We see several instances of foreshadowing and prophecies that are fulfilled by Jesus’ birth, life, and death, written hundreds and hundreds of years prior to Jesus coming to earth (mind-blown?). Several verses within Isaiah prophesy the birth of Christ; an example would be Isaiah 7:14: "Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel." Thanks to Matthew 1:18-23, we know that came true.  Other passages cover his death. One whole chapter is Isaiah 53 and with our accounts of the arrest, crucifixion, and resurrection in the gospels, we know of whom this is speaking.

In addition, there are many passages that talk about the freedom after being taken captive in Babylon for years that foreshadow something we have yet to see in full. Which leads me to chapter 61 of Isaiah.

“The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me,

because the LORD has anointed me

to bring good news to the poor;

he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,

to proclaim liberty to the captives,

and the opening of the prison to those who are bound;

to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favor

and the day of vengeance of our God;

to comfort all who mourn;

to grant to those who mourn in Zion—

to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,

the oil of gladness instead of mourning,

the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;

that they may be called oaks of righteousness,

the planting of the LORD, that he may be glorified.

They shall build up the ancient ruins;

they shall raise up the former devastations;

they shall repair the ruined cities,

the devastations of many generations.

Strangers shall stand and tend your flocks;

foreigners shall be your plowmen and vinedressers;

but you shall be called the priests of the LORD;

they shall speak of you as the ministers of our God;

you shall eat the wealth of the nations,

and in their glory you shall boast.

Instead of your shame there shall be a double portion;

instead of dishonor they shall rejoice in their lot;

therefore in their land they shall possess a double portion;

they shall have everlasting joy.

For I the LORD love justice;

I hate robbery and wrong;

I will faithfully give them their recompense,

and I will make an everlasting covenant with them.

Their offspring shall be known among the nations,

and their descendants in the midst of the peoples;

all who see them shall acknowledge them,

that they are an offspring the LORD has blessed.

I will greatly rejoice in the LORD;

my soul shall exult in my God,

for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation;

he has covered me with a robe of righteousness,

as a bridegroom decks himself like a priest with a beautiful headdress,

and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.

For as the earth brings forth its sprouts,

and as a garden causes what it sown in it to sprout up,

so the LORD God will cause righteousness and praise

to sprout up before all nations.”

Before we go any further, let’s look at Luke 4:16-21. Scripture says, “And He (Jesus) came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up. And as was his custom, he went to the synagogue on the Sabbath day, and he stood up to read. And the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written, ‘The Spirit of Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim the good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.’ And he rolled up the scroll and gave it back to the attendant and sat down. And the eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. And he began to say to them, ‘Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.’”

Before Judah had even been captured by Babylon, before the Hebrews were slaves in Egypt, before sin had entered the world, God had ordained a Rescuer for His people: Jesus. He is the One who will continue to bring Isaiah 61 to fruition. He already is working Isaiah 61 within our lives even now. We already have the blessing of seeing the miracles of Christ in our daily lives.

Jesus brings good news, binds the brokenhearted, proclaims freedom to the captives, frees the prisoners, proclaims salvation and tells us He is coming back, comforts those who mourn, brings beauty from ashes, makes us glad, gives a garment of praise instead of a faint spirit, plants us as oaks of righteousness so that He may be glorified. He rebuilds, He restores, He repairs devastations. He gives us everlasting joy.

Praise Him for allowing us to see glimpses of this perfection in our world, in our loved ones' lives, in our own souls! I can assure you what is to come, the completeness of Isaiah 61, will be beyond even our wildest dreams. It will be even better than the snapshots we have now of Christ's glorious power that brings beauty from ashes. After all, at times our lives still look like ashes, our hearts still break, our spirits still grow faint, we still mourn, we are still tempted to being taken captive, and we are still devastated. 

The glorious rescue is still taking place, yet to be completely fulfilled. The day is coming when the Redeemed will be able to look at Jesus and say without hesitation, without fear, and without a doubt, “I delight greatly in the LORD! My soul rejoices in my God! He has clothed me in salvation and arrayed me in a robe of righteousness, like a groom decks himself like a priest and a bride adorns herself with jewels. He causes righteousness and praise to spring up before all nations!” Oh, what a day!

“What a day that will be, 

when my Jesus I shall see, 

and I look upon His face, 

the One who saved me by His grace, 

when He takes me by the hand, 

and leads me through the Promised Land! 

What a day, glorious day that will be!” 

Consider the Lilies.

I know everyone has heard the saying, “The first step is to admit you have a problem.” Well, I will just go ahead and admit one of my many problems. I am a worrier. My mother would be quick to call me a worry wart, but I do not really care for that term. Even so, I have come to realize I worry about anything and everything. 

I worry about things that are important. I worry about my husband, especially when he is biking around town at 5:00 in the morning. I worry about my sister when she is alone, even though she lives two blocks up the street. I worry about my mom and dad because I do not see them as often as I used to. I worry about my future children and if I am going to be a capable parent. I worry about the little souls I have been entrusted to teach. I worry about my dog, who I often have to leave at home during the day. I worry about America. I worry about the world we live in. I worry about my past mistakes. I worry about today. I worry about what the future holds. I worry about the unknown. I worry. 

I worry about not-so important things. I worry about what I am going to wear each time I have to decide on an outfit. I worry about the sound my dryer makes when I start drying a load of clothes. I worry about what will break next on or in our house. I worry about what others think of me. I worry if the color green will be okay for my classroom walls. I worry about the strange nightmares that I have. I worry about getting sick by touching public door handles and such. I worry about my car getting hit by a buggy in the Walmart parking lot. I worry about the kittens that live in my neighbor's backyard. I worry about my obsession of worrying. I worry.

I would dare to say, one could call me anxious. Sometimes my worry and anxiousness cause a few rough sleeps within a week. Sometimes my worry causes me to have even worse nightmares, to be a bit irritated towards others, or to just sit down and cry. My anxiousness leads me to try to fix things that are not even broken, to say things I would not normally say, and worst of all, to depend on myself.

In worrying and anxiousness, I say I do not trust the God of all time—eternity past, present, and eternal future—to take care of me; I say I trust in my own brainstorming, wild imagination, and silly thoughts to have appropriate preparations and plans for every what-if in my life. Instead of allowing the God who makes sure the sun rises each morning and the stars come out each night to guide me today and tomorrow, I decide that thinking up millions of solutions to hypothetical problems that have a very slim chance of even occurring is somehow better. I choose to trust in myself rather than the One who actually holds the whole world in His hands.

“Consider the lilies” is a phrase from a well-known passage of Scripture. I can honestly say I do not remember the first time I heard or read it. I just remember being young and forever being enamored with that lone phrase within the passage.

The two passages where the phrase is found in Scripture are entitled in most Bible versions as “Do Not Be Anxious.” In Luke's account, Jesus is speaking and says: Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass, which is alive in the field today, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you, O you of little faith!

I love flowers. Oh, I love them! I even love flowers that some people may call weeds. I love receiving them as gifts, picking Indian paintbrushes out in the pasture every spring, and now, growing them in front of my own house. My mom is the complete opposite, which probably fueled my delight in flowers all the more because they were such a rare sight growing up. She never planted flowers, never welcomed them as gifts, and definitely was never found picking weeds out in the field.

Mom does not care for flowers because of how quickly they die. And I should share, the flowers my husband took care of in our garden last year flourished and were splendid. The ones I was supposed to take over this season have “been thrown into the oven.” Each bloom of a flower, no matter where at, no matter how long it lasts, is truly awe-inspiring. This Scripture says that even Solomon, known for his great wisdom and wealth, was not as well off as a lily bloom, even if only in the field for a day. Yet, God takes even more care of us. Oh, me of little faith!

As often as I struggle with worry, I thank God that He has never-ending patience with me and tucks such a simple phrase down deep in my soul that He uses to comfort me in the most chaotic times. Coming home to a vase of flowers that my husband surprised me with tells me that God has everything under His sovereign control. Seeing the few (and even fewer) flower blooms in front of my house that have survived my lack of watering and the summer heat is a small reminder of the care Christ has for me. Driving through the country, and my breath being taken away by a pasture full of spectacular weeds is His precious way of saying to me, “I know everything that you need. Seek after Me and I will take care of all your worries. Fear not, Madison, for it is My pleasure to give you the Kingdom.”

When I am consciously seeking after His face, His glory, His Kingdom, none of my worries really matter. Sure, it is and will continue to be an ongoing battle and process to keep my eyes on Christ or to look around at all the things that are not right or the multiple things that could go wrong. What a sweet, sweet joy it is to become aware that I do not have to worry about any of the important or not so important things that life contains. Because of what Christ has done and what God promises, I can look at a flower bloom and realize my freedom to chase after Him wholeheartedly without any fear, reservation, or worry. I strongly desire to always consider the lilies.

“Consider the Lilies”

Consider the lilies: they don’t toil or spin, and there’s not a king with more splendor than them. Consider the sparrow: they don’t plant or sow, but they are fed by the Master, who watches them grow.

May I introduce you to this Friend of mine, who hangs out the stars and tells the sun when to shine? He kisses the flowers each morning with dew, but He’s not too busy to love me and you.

We have a Heavenly Father above with eyes full of mercy and a heart full of love. He really cares when your head is bowed low. Consider the lilies, and then you will know.

"And he said to his disciples, “Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat, nor about your body, what you will put on. For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing. Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds! And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? If then you are not able to do as small a thing as that, why are you anxious about the rest? Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass, which is alive in the field today, and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you, O you of little faith! And do not seek what you are to eat and what you are to drink, nor be worried. For all the nations of the world seek after these things, and your Father knows that you need them. Instead, seek his kingdom, and these things will be added to you.

Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom." Luke 12:22-32.

Nicknames.

As a teenager, I grew very inquisitive about who my parents were in high school. I took to searching tirelessly through their old yearbooks each evening to decide if we would have been friends, had I lived in the same generation and went to the same school. 

One could understand my astonishment when every classmate who signed my dad’s yearbook addressed him as ”Killer.” I was slightly alarmed at first, and after asking my mom (who just told me to ask my dad), I found it was only a nickname that a teacher had given him. According to my dad, “The name just stuck.” I am hoping that the English teacher chose that name based on dad's killer writing skills in his English classroom or dad's superior athletic ability in the gym and on the field. We may never know.

Anyone on my mother’s side of the family calls her one of two things. The first is Lynnette, which is her actual middle name. I do not consider that a nickname. I consider that confusing for “Lynnette’s” kids. I was always quick to correct each extended family member by telling him or her that my mom’s name was in fact, “Leigh.” I thought I was doing them a favor. Do they really not know who she is?! Probably after being embarrassed by my outbursts on several occasions, she explained to me that because there was a “LeRoy” and a “Lee” already in her family, “Lynnette” helped keep it straight. 

The majority of her family calls her by something else, though. A nickname that describes something that she may or may not have repeatedly done at inopportune times as a toddler. I would assume most people outgrow names given at the age of two. However, to this day, I will still answer my mom's phone to hear, “Poo, is that you?” Yes, I'll stop right there on that one. 

Webster’s dictionary defines the word nickname as: “a usually descriptive name given instead of or in addition to the one belonging to a person, place, or thing.” A nickname usually describes a person’s personality or something the person may do. It usually tells a little more about who a person is.

Personally, I do not have a nickname, as I’m not sure a shortening of my actual name counts. Other people can relate to that, while others have several nicknames. Some nicknames that often slip my mind are the ones we hear each and every day: Husband, Wife, Dad, Mom, Sister, Brother, Grandma, Grandpa, Grammy, Grampy, etc. These nicknames are obviously titles, but very much describe a person often by telling others who they are, whose they are, and what they do.

The first person that comes to mind in having countless nicknames and titles is God. And unlike my dad’s nickname, God’s nicknames all have specific meanings. Everyone knows why He is called by each name. They tell of His character—who He is and what He does. 

God’s nicknames are also very different from my mother’s. A person does not know my mother better by hearing her called, “Poo.” Every title of God’s tells more about Him. A person learns something different about Him with every name they hear. His nicknames, or titles, come directly from Scripture and there is an endless amount. I would like to just share a few:

Abba, Father.

“For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’” Romans 8:14-15.

Through trusting in Christ as Savior of our lives, God adopts us into His family. We become children of God. He becomes our Abba, Father—a devoted, loyal, and trustworthy Father--who we share an intimate relationship with.

Sustainer.

“Cast your burden on the LORD, and he will sustain you; he will never permit the righteous to be moved.” Psalm 55:22.

To sustain is “to provide what is needed for someone to continue to exist, to hold up the weight of, to deal with or experience something bad, to give support or relief.” God is our ultimate Sustainer. He is with us in the everyday, the best days, and the worst days. He provides for us, He holds us up, and He gives us relief.

Shepherd.

“The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.” Psalm 23:1.

Shepherds guide their sheep. They care for them by giving them what they need and keeping them from danger. God is our Great Shepherd. He guides us, cares for us, protects us, and keeps us.

“He’s the Great Shepherd, the Rock of all Ages, Almighty God is He!”

Father of the fatherless.

“Father of the fatherless and protector of widows is God in his holy habitation.” Psalm 68:5.

Several places of Scripture refer to God caring for the wanderer, the poor, the widow, and the orphan. Sojourner or not, in poverty or not, losing a spouse or not, fatherless or not, these references also represent where every one of us stand, apart from His saving grace.

Promise Keeper.

“Not one word of all the good promises that the LORD had made to the house of Israel had failed; all came to pass.” Joshua 21:45.

My dad attended many “Promise Keeper” conferences when I was growing up. (which is why I do not drink milk anymore, but that is a whole different story). I was and still very much am enthralled by that title. God keeps His promises—every single promise that He makes. He will never fail. 

Rock.

“He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be greatly shaken.” Psalm 62:2.

“Rock of Ages, cleft for me. Let me hide myself in Thee.”

Think about a mountain. Mountains do not tend to move. They do not tend to shake. They are sturdy. It is an illustration of safety--the place to go when all is falling down around us. God is our rock, our safety, our refuge, our help.

Redeemer.

“For your Maker is your husband, the Lord of hosts is his name; and the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer, the God of the whole earth he is called.” Isaiah 54:5.

My mother’s favorite hymn is “Redeemed.” This passage from Isaiah has many names of God, but “Redeemer” tells of one thing He does. He redeems. He redeems us from sin. He redeems us by the blood of the Lamb. He redeems us to Himself.

“I think of my blessed Redeemer, I think of Him all the day long: I sing, for I cannot be silent; His love is the theme of my song.”

Creator.

“Have you not known? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable.” Isaiah 40:28.

God is Creator. He created everything. Just look around for a moment and let that sink in. God is the one who formed you in your mother’s womb, put the stars in the sky and called them each by name, built mountains, filled oceans, striped zebras….the list could go on forever.

“Almighty Father, Master and Lord,

King of all kings and Redeemer,

Wonderful Counselor, Comforter, Friend,

Savior and Source of our life without end.

You are worthy, Father, Creator.

You are worthy, Savior, Sustainer. 

You are worthy, worthy and wonderful;

Worthy of worship and praise.”

Those are just a handful of God’s “nicknames” that do exactly what nicknames should do: describe. 
Please, feel free to share others, as there are countless more.

The Bride.

At age four, on any given Saturday morning, chances are you would have found me at my Grandma Wilma’s house, sitting in front of the television having a quick snack before 10:30am so that my lunch would not be ruined. That was the rule, the one and only rule about snacks at Grandma’s house. Once finished with my regular ice cream sandwich or my Dixie cup of shredded cheese, Grandma would clean my mess up and start cooking, encouraging me to go play until she called me to supper. I would take off from the living room, run down the hall, and turn left to enter the guest bedroom. Sliding across the floor, I would reach the dresser drawers. The next to the bottom drawer held exactly what I was looking for: Grandma’s old, white slips. They were not slips to me, though. No, they were so much more. They were wedding gowns. I shed my clothes, hurried into the slip, and forced Mack to become the groom or flower girl, whatever I was feeling and whatever she could handle that day. I mean, she was only two years old. I wanted to be a bride, I wanted to plan a wedding, and I wanted to get married every single Saturday morning before I was called to supper. I simply loved being the bride.

On cold days, the wedding celebration took place inside. The hallway became my aisle and the den became the stage area. If lunch were simple to prepare that day, Grandma came to enjoy the show. On beautiful, summer days, Mack and I would venture outside to get married underneath the large, knotted shade tree in the backyard or on the hill in the front lawn overlooking the wheat and alfalfa fields. If Dad were around the farm at the time, he would come walk me down the aisle or fill in the spot I was most worried about that day. It never got old. I would do something different each time just to decide what I would like better when the actual day would finally arrive, when I would be the bride.

From around age four to age seven, if you asked me whom I was going to marry, I would answer with three answers: my daddy, Aladdin, or the man at the grocery store who snuck candy out to me while mom loaded the groceries into the car. I always gave the same three as my answer. I knew I needed to keep my options open, especially when my mother would giggle and tell me all three were impossible. I just thought she did not understand the love I held for each of the three people. Surely one of the three would work out, right?

In sixth grade, I had a brilliant idea to play “wedding” at recess. Yes, I basically forced all thirty-two sixth-graders and the few fifth-graders that played with us to have a fake wedding celebration. We prepared and planned all week. Then, come Friday, everything was ready and the entire playground came to watch. Who was the bride? Me. They let me be the bride since it was my idea. I am pretty sure we planned on having a wedding every Friday for the rest of the school year, though, because everyone wanted to be the bride. I was okay with this, of course, because I loved weddings. I loved them. However, our principal did not like our weddings after our first one. So, we had to quit having our wedding festivities. What a shame.

A few years later, in junior high, on a random Wednesday night, our youth pastor shuffled all the youth down to the sanctuary for our object lesson. We needed object lessons desperately. Bless his heart; none of us could pay attention at that age, even when we tried. So, Trevor and his beautiful wife, Aimee, took us down the hall to the sanctuary for our Wednesday night lesson. Unfortunately, I do not remember the lesson. (Sorry, Trevor!) I do remember the object part of the lesson, though. We all sat down in the front pews and Trevor asked for a volunteer. Everyone sat shyly. Then Trevor elaborated on his request.

“Who is the craziest about weddings?”

No one said anything, but I started to get really nervous and hot.

“Girls, come on, one of you has to always be talking about your future wedding.”

I kept my eyes right on my feet. I could feel people looking at me. I knew I was beginning to sweat. 

Yup. Exactly what I knew would happen. I glanced up to find about twenty fingers pointing directly at me.

“Alright, alright, I’ll volunteer.”

In eighth grade, it was not cool to like weddings. Boys were still considered “gross” and you did not ever think nor talk about getting married. I was weird; I knew it. I had almost everything planned. It was picture perfect. The only thing I was missing was the groom.

On May 1, 2011, I met a guy who was probably just as crazy about being married as I was. I did not know that then, because if there is a less perfect time to talk about marriage and weddings than in junior high, it is during college. Most boys run from the smallest mention of commitment. You do not mention marriage, especially once you have and it does not work out for you. However, after a few months of time with this man, I realized he was just that: a man. He proposed on October 17, 2012, and I was living my childhood dream: planning a wedding.

Wedding planning is probably difficult no matter when you have to do it, but I can assure you it is even more difficult than normal when you are going to school full-time. It was a constant battle of deciding between schoolwork or wedding preparations. Both took great hits. Thank the Lord for my mother for taking my little bits of visions that I did give her and stringing them together to make them a reality. 

After seven and a half months, the day had arrived. I woke up on May 31, 2013, spent time with Jesus, and began to prep, for I was finally the bride. All the while, my phone is constantly reminding me of two things: it is my wedding day and Oklahoma is in a tornado warning. My hair was put up, my make-up put on perfectly, and I finally was put in the dress I had envisioned wearing since I was four years old. The day was looking ever so lovely. 

Whispers filled the air for most of the afternoon. I knew what was going on, even though no one wanted me to. Thanks to social media, I was again fully aware of our weather situation and that this was my one and only day to be a bride, not the loveliest of combinations. Yet, it was happening. There was no stopping and starting over. 

Right about the time we were supposed to be walking down the aisle, I was being walked down the stairs to take shelter from the rapidly approaching tornado. Every bride pictures that moment of the double doors being opened as she begins her walk down the aisle and the crowd's breath being taken away by her beauty. My crowd slowly walked by a bathroom, where I was sitting in the middle of the floor in my gorgeous, white gown, and gasped with complete disbelief and terror because of what was happening......Close, but not quite.

After having the scare of our lives, we were able to run back upstairs once the storm passed to have a speedy ceremony. The ceremony I had practiced since I was young and perfected for the last seven and a half months was squished into fifteen minutes. I ran down and back up the aisle quicker than I had ever imagined, even in the wedding nightmares I had prior to the evening. I had to change back into the clothes I had gotten ready in earlier that day so my dress would not be damaged any more than it already was, and was thrown out into a torrential downpour and flood without any supper. That was it. That was my wedding, everything I had looked forward to and longed for.

The next few days, weeks, and months led to one question, a question that always comes up when life happens a way that we did not plan: Why?

I should have shared at the beginning why marriage was always so beautiful and intriguing to me, but it just happens to be the reason, the answer to the question. You see, history opens with a wedding in Genesis and it will end with one, too. Marriage points to something else, something greater, and someone even more beautiful. It points to Christ.

“Wives, submit to your husbands as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything.

Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless. In this same way, husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. After all, no one ever hated his own body, but he feeds and cares for it, just as Christ does the church—for we are members of his body. ‘For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife and the two will become one flesh.’ This is a profound mystery—but I am talking about Christ and the church. However, each one of you also must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband.” (Ephesians 5:22-33)

Jesus gave Himself up for the church, for His body. He came to earth, died for our sins, and was raised from the dead, claiming victory over sin and death. Those who give their lives to Him and trust in Him for their salvation are apart of that body. We are His church, His bride. How amazing is this passage when you look at it in that light! Christ gave Himself up for me; He cleanses me and presents me as radiant, without stain, wrinkle, and blemish. He presents me holy. I am apart of the spotless Bride. In return, my life is supposed to be a continuous, joyous submission to Him, seeking His glory.

This is why weddings and marriage have always captivated my attention. God put that desire and interest in my heart so that I would constantly be pointed to Him, to the incredible relationship that earthly marriage echoes: Christ and the church. This is why our wedding was not and our marriage is not perfect, it is only a picture of something more. It is only a glimpse of perfection.

Grandma’s cooking is remarkable and my Aunt Dana and Mum worked hard to put together food for the wedding reception, but I can assure you it will not be as good as the party after the wedding that is to come. My four year-old fantasies and the actual tragedy of my earthly wedding will not even compare to the Marriage of the Lamb. They are only pictures of what is to come. So, I will continue to look forward to, long for, and ready myself as part of the Bride until I am called to supper, the Marriage Supper of the Lamb.

“Then I heard what seemed to be the voice of a great multitude, like the roar of many waters and like the sound of mighty peals of thunder, crying out:

'Hallelujah! For the Lord our God the Almighty reigns.

Let us rejoice and exult and give him the glory, for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and his Bride has made herself ready; it was granted her to clothe herself with fine linen, bright and pure.'” (Revelation 19:6-8)

“They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads.” (Revelation 22:4)

“He’s coming back for His bride! Hallelujah!”