Last week, I took my students to a class about immigrants to Minnesota. After establishing that we were mostly natives to the state, the instructor asked, "Does anyone know how every single one of us is connected to an immigrant?"
Though we'd been reading about immigrants for weeks, something about her wording threw the whole class off. They sat there, confused, for several seconds before Ira raised his hand and offered the standard Christian school guess: "Jesus?"
To my delight (and respect!), the teacher rolled with it! "Well, I suppose you COULD say that Jesus was an immigrant..." she replied thoughtfully, chuckling. "A different kind of one. He was more of a celestial immigrant, wasn't he?"
She smiled, paused, and moved on.
I, however, haven't moved on yet. So much to chew on in two words! A "celestial immigrant" -- how very different Jesus was from the immigrants we studied, and yet how appropriate a title.
We've read that immigrants came to the United States in search of a better life, to flee war or famine, or to escape persecution, to name a few reasons. All were hopeful that their lives would improve here. They came to better themselves, their families, and their futures.
In contrast, we are told the following about Jesus,
"...though he was in the form of God...[he] made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross." (Philippians 2:6-8, ESV)
Second Corinthians 8:9 also speaks of the sacrifice He made in coming to us:
"For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich."
Nothing about Jesus' coming was easy. He lived a simple life amongst an oppressed people. The climax of his earthly life and ministry -the cross- certainly doesn't fall under our ideas of "success" or "a better life." Never once did He take a "I'm-actually-God-so-I'm-just-going-to-skip-this-part" shortcut. He didn't come to enrich Himself in any way.
That's impressive by itself. This celestial immigrant demands my respect, if nothing else. But to realize that it was so that I might become rich? I, who had nothing to offer Him, being "qualified to share in the inheritance of the saints in Light?" I move from being impressed to awed. Overwhelmed.
This Holy Week, may the reality of the incarnation pierce our hearts and cause us to worship! May the glory of this Celestial Immigrant, who came to reconcile us to Himself, not to be served (which He deserved) but to serve, cause us to say along with Thomas, "My Lord and my God!"
"And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth." (John 1:14)
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Real-Life Application; or, Quotes Borrowed From Third Grade
Two quotes currently on the favorites board in our kitchen:
"It's not like when I grow up and buy a house, I'm going to pay them in Base 10 blocks!"
- A third grader in Tiffany's class frustrated by her emphasis on concept over speed or procedure. Feeling bogged down by the use of Base 10 blocks during a multiplication lesson, he made his case against them (rather convincingly, if you ask me).
***
"Where's the yelling?"
- A dad at spring parent-teacher conferences after Tiff showed him his daughter's most recent writing assignment, a flowery description of her family's morning routine before coming to school. Apparently, she left out a few details.
"It's not like when I grow up and buy a house, I'm going to pay them in Base 10 blocks!"
- A third grader in Tiffany's class frustrated by her emphasis on concept over speed or procedure. Feeling bogged down by the use of Base 10 blocks during a multiplication lesson, he made his case against them (rather convincingly, if you ask me).
***
"Where's the yelling?"
- A dad at spring parent-teacher conferences after Tiff showed him his daughter's most recent writing assignment, a flowery description of her family's morning routine before coming to school. Apparently, she left out a few details.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Great Kid Quotes You Can Use In Your Everyday Life
Stick a couple of these authentic first and second grade quotes in your back pocket, and you'll never be speechless again. (People may look at you with strange expressions on their faces when you talk, but that already happens, doesn't it?)
"You wouldn't live a DAY in MY body!"
- A second grader (who yelled this across the room at another student, for no evident reason - making it even more useful)
"I think I tore a limb."
- The same second grader, referring to a gym-class injury. He has a gift for the dramatic.
And now, a creative writing tutorial from another second grader. The next time you need embellishment, perhaps you can draw inspiration from this young man.
The assignment? Write at least six lines about the Hansel and Gretel opera we saw. Here is his first (one-line) attempt:
Hansel and Gretel sleeped at the forest and the angels saved them.
Grouchy dictator that I am, I demanded more details. At least five lines worth of details, to be exact. It's possible I even instructed him to be creative. He hemmed and hawed, and then an idea dawned on his face. I want to hang the finished product on my refrigerator:
Hansel and Gretel sleeped at the forest and the angels saved them from getting eaten and killed and curceds or torchered or cut or blood presher or heat attack or getting sick or captured or drowning and from the night.
So it might not follow the opera's story line exactly. But he met the six-line minimum, and you have to admit, it's pretty darn creative.
"You wouldn't live a DAY in MY body!"
- A second grader (who yelled this across the room at another student, for no evident reason - making it even more useful)
"I think I tore a limb."
- The same second grader, referring to a gym-class injury. He has a gift for the dramatic.
And now, a creative writing tutorial from another second grader. The next time you need embellishment, perhaps you can draw inspiration from this young man.
The assignment? Write at least six lines about the Hansel and Gretel opera we saw. Here is his first (one-line) attempt:
Hansel and Gretel sleeped at the forest and the angels saved them.
Grouchy dictator that I am, I demanded more details. At least five lines worth of details, to be exact. It's possible I even instructed him to be creative. He hemmed and hawed, and then an idea dawned on his face. I want to hang the finished product on my refrigerator:
Hansel and Gretel sleeped at the forest and the angels saved them from getting eaten and killed and curceds or torchered or cut or blood presher or heat attack or getting sick or captured or drowning and from the night.
So it might not follow the opera's story line exactly. But he met the six-line minimum, and you have to admit, it's pretty darn creative.
A Question of Discipline and Parenting...Sort Of
You may be wondering why this blog has sat deserted for the past two -no, three- months. Well, the answer is a rather embarrassing. You see, I'm having a little discipline problem with my words.
Here it is, plain and simple: my words won't mind me.
How am I dealing with the problem, you ask? Oh, I lecture and they listen, and they nod their heads and promise they understand exactly what I'm telling them, but by the time we've made our peace again, we're too worn out to do anything productive. Tomorrow, we say. Tomorrow, we will work together and write. And then they behave beautifully, as long as we're driving down the road or sitting in the middle of a reading group or some other setting in which WRITING THEM DOWN is impossible. At all those times, they dance to the tune I play, and I nurse great hopes for them.
But get us home after a long day's work, and give us a chance to say something meaningful, and there is no cooperation, or obedience, or patience to be found. They scatter every which way, snickering and mocking, and I am left alone, pouting like a child. I'm supposed to be the one in charge here, right?
What do you do when your words just won't sit when you say sit? When they show off when they should be serving, or they run and hide when you'd like them to sit and properly answer your company?
Am I expecting them to be something they aren't? Am I asking too much of them? Is this the reason they don't listen? Or am I being too lenient, allowing them to run free when they should be shaped and disciplined? Is this why they no longer respect me?
Those of you more experienced in administering discipline, what do you suggest?
[For some crazy reason, when I haven't written for a while, all I can write about is NOT BEING ABLE TO WRITE! Here's hoping that this is a priming of the pump...]
Here it is, plain and simple: my words won't mind me.
How am I dealing with the problem, you ask? Oh, I lecture and they listen, and they nod their heads and promise they understand exactly what I'm telling them, but by the time we've made our peace again, we're too worn out to do anything productive. Tomorrow, we say. Tomorrow, we will work together and write. And then they behave beautifully, as long as we're driving down the road or sitting in the middle of a reading group or some other setting in which WRITING THEM DOWN is impossible. At all those times, they dance to the tune I play, and I nurse great hopes for them.
But get us home after a long day's work, and give us a chance to say something meaningful, and there is no cooperation, or obedience, or patience to be found. They scatter every which way, snickering and mocking, and I am left alone, pouting like a child. I'm supposed to be the one in charge here, right?
What do you do when your words just won't sit when you say sit? When they show off when they should be serving, or they run and hide when you'd like them to sit and properly answer your company?
Am I expecting them to be something they aren't? Am I asking too much of them? Is this the reason they don't listen? Or am I being too lenient, allowing them to run free when they should be shaped and disciplined? Is this why they no longer respect me?
Those of you more experienced in administering discipline, what do you suggest?
[For some crazy reason, when I haven't written for a while, all I can write about is NOT BEING ABLE TO WRITE! Here's hoping that this is a priming of the pump...]
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