I woke up on Monday morning, 5:00 AM for my normal quiet time.  I could hardly read the words of Scripture because my mind was so scattered and distracted.  My chest felt tight with anxiety.  I was Overwhelmed (capital O). 

The weekend had come and gone, my to-do list had barely budged, and I was still exhausted.  Now I faced 5 days in a row of teaching and meetings and deadlines and demands.  I was at the end of myself.  The very end.

I was trying to read through James 5 that morning.  As my mind raced and turned over all of the stresses of the coming day(s), my eyes did a cursory run over the words.  There was verse 13: "Is any one of you in trouble? He should pray."

Of course.  And I know that.  I really do.  I tell people to pray all the time.  I pray for people all the time.  But I realized as I sat there at the breaking point, crushed under the muchness of my responsibilities and the expectations of others that I could never, ever meet, I had not once really prayed about it.  Not once!

I had known days ahead of time that this last weekend would be busy.  I had known about my workload.  I had known it was too much and I'd be overwhelmed.  I played the ostrich, head down, not looking at the troubles around me, hoping they would cure themselves.

That's not what James wrote.  He didn't say "Is any one of you in trouble?  He should ignore the problem and hope it goes away."  He said I should pray.  For my own times of trouble, not just other people's.  So I did.  A quite desperate plea, making up for in sincerity what it was lacking in any sort of eloquence.   I begged for a feeding-the-multitudes sort of multiplication of my meager loaves of time and fishes of energy.  I gave up, shrugged my shoulders, and said, "I can't.  So You must."

Time was growing short, so I headed down for a shower, still feeling that tears were far too near the surface to keep it together for a whole day.  I went to school.  I taught.  I had a meeting until 6:00 PM.  I came home.  My husband and children had done some things, unprompted around the house, that ratcheted my stress level down.  That long meeting had given me perspective about some upcoming projects that were feeling too big for any person.

Not a single deadline was changed.  Not a single task was eliminated.  Yet I felt hopeful.  It was answered prayer.  It wasn't that my entire day changed instantaneously when I prayed in my early morning time.  I spent much of the day answering people's "How are you?" greetings with spillings out of I-am-completely-overwhelmed-and-near-my-breaking-point-but-I've-been-praying-and-God-is-faithful-so-thanks-and-how-are-you?  It took all day for God to answer.  But He did.  He gave me peace and calm and persistence and perspective. 

James 5:17 says, "The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective."  I don't always feel like a righteous person.  In God's eyes, though, I am.  I am a fully committed believer in Christ.  Yes, I fail.  But Christ's righteousness covers my sins.  I am righteous in Him.  And my prayers are effective, even when I am praying for myself.

This was a small issue, really.  It's not like my life was threatened.  I was not facing a huge moral crisis that could result in my social downfall.  People face much bigger problems that my little "crisis."  These verses speak to that, too.  Read them, and be encouraged.

¹³ Is any one of you in trouble? He should pray. Is anyone happy? Let him sing songs of praise. ¹⁴ Is any one of you sick? He should call the elders of the church to pray over him and anoint him with oil in the name of the Lord. ¹⁵ And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up. If he has sinned, he will be forgiven. ¹⁶ Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective.

--James 5:13-16

**This entry is part of a James Read-Along over at my friend Marla's blog.

I'm a teacher.  It's what I do that brings a paycheck into our family.  It's more than that, though.  It's just something that is in me. 

I teach Sunday School.  I teach Bible study.  I teach my kids to cook and clean and play Yahtzee.  I teach my coworkers how to use new software.  I teach my husband how to use his cell phone.  I have taught a stranger in the grocery store how to use jicama.  I teach.  I'm a teacher.  It's who I am.

Yet James 3 begins with, "Not many of you should presume to be teachers, my brothers, because you know that we who teach will be judged more strictly."  Then he launches into a discussion about the tongue, opening with "We all stumble in many ways. If anyone is never at fault in what he says, he is a perfect man, able to keep his whole body in check."

I've read about teachers being judged more strictly, and I don't take the responsibility lightly.  However.  HOWEVER ... I do not always guard what I say.  I am not a perfect (wo)man.  I sometimes say the quick thing.  It's accurate, it's truthful, but it's not careful.  It's worded in ways that wound.

I know that teachers' words have extraordinary power on young people.  How many of us have a story about how a teacher said the most biting, awful thing to us as a kid, and we shut down?  Or how a teacher gave us this small passing comment, a casual compliment, that was so meaningful to us that it changed the course of our future?

My student load is big this year.  I teach about 154 9th graders +15 study hallers + a roster of 25 or so Sunday School members + 20 Bible study participants +3 sweet daughters.  That means my work load is heavy and my to-do list is never a ta-done list.  When I get busy, I cope by hunkering down and doing stuff rapid fire.

Except that doesn't work when real people are involved.  I need to watch that when I leave a comment on a student's paper, it doesn't say, "Not enough detail. 6/10."  I need to tell the student, "I love how you answered the first 2 questions, but you seemed rushed toward the end, leaving off details.  Be sure to show off what you know to get full credit. 6/10."    It takes longer.  But it honors the student who gets the comment.  It honors the work we do together.

The same is true in my relationships.  Like with my daughters.  We get in a mode of constant hurry, and I bark orders.  Do those precious girls hear affirmation?  Do I speak love and hope?  Or is it a constant nag of you're-not-good-enough? 

I believe I'm a teacher because it is my calling.  I don't think I have presumed to do something outside His will.  But I sometimes am presumptuous in my approach.  I do it out of my own strength, my own wisdom, my own words.  For that, I will be judged strictly. I want to be a worthy teacher.  I must tame the tongue.

**This entry is part of a James Read-Along over at my friend Marla's blog.

This blog has been pretty stagnant.  (That's a fancy word for "ain't nothin' been put up for durn-near a year now!")  So what broke the silence?  A big life event?  News to share?  Nah.

My friend, Marla, is hosting a read-along on her blog, and I knew God was calling me to participate.  See, it's the book of James.  As in, follows "Hebrews."  As in, the brother of Christ.  As in, the book God keeps putting in front of me in various forms.   Whether I had time or not, God was nudging me to read along with the read-along.  This week, the party begins with James 1.

Never one to go half-way, I decided to blog about it, too.  Except that it is really weird to put something "out there" on my blog when it has been post-less for so long.  I feel like I'm just pretending I haven't left a 10 month gap here, just going on like nothing has happened, when so much HAS.

So maybe it will help me to share a little daily randomness.  I had to run to the post office during my planning period today.  Leaving school to run an errand makes me feel like a kid playing hooky.  I remember being 13 years old and going to the orthodontist during school hours.  Whenever I was out, I was worried that everyone who saw me thought I was a truant school-skipper.  It was all I could do not to shout out, "I'm a straight A student who is signed out with permission!  Look, I'm even doing the work I missed as I ride here in the car!"  I felt a bit like that today.

Anyway, on the way back to school, I was driving along Commerce Parkway in LaGrange where there is a bike path along the road.  I saw a woman.  On the bike path.  Walking her dog.  And her miniature pony.  For real.  In the words of my sweet Josie, "Now that's something you don't see every day!"

What does that have to do with James?  Nothing. But the next part will.  I promise.

I got back in plenty of time for my 7th period class.  We're in a unit about rites of passage.  Today, as a starter activity, we listened to a couple of songs and analyzed the lyrics in relation to the unit theme.  One of the songs was Green Day's "Good Riddance."  As my students discussed the possible meanings of the verses, I couldn't help but reflect on the fact that sometimes we really, really, really want to say "good riddance!" to a period of our life.  Sometimes it's hard.  Sometimes we just have to make the best of a stinky situation.  Green Day sings, "So make the best of this test, and don't ask why/ It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time."

James puts it this way: "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything."  So often I want to develop my perseverance and become mature.  I want to have it all.  But I would prefer to skip the trials, please and thank you.  I want it to be easy.  I want it to be happy sunshine, rainbows, and unicorns. 

That is not God's way.  It's not that He doesn't want me to be happy, but He wants a different kind of happiness.  He wants me to consider it pure joy to face difficulty.  He wants me to revel in the struggle.  He wants me to find satisfaction in the exhausting effort to keep on keeping on. If I want maturity, that's what it takes.

Interestingly enough, after James' extended discussion about how the trials and the hardship and the testing are really blessings in disguise, he comes back to this:

"Don’t be deceived, my dear brothers. Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. He chose to give us birth through the word of truth, that we might be a kind of firstfruits of all he created."

Don't be deceived.  He wouldn't warn about that unless it was a distinct possibility.  I think he's warning us not to start thinking that God is ONLY about giving us the heavy stuff, the hard stuff, the bad omens. 

A dear friend of mine has fallen victim to this deception.  He is almost paralyzed in his faith because he is convinced that if he asks God for patience, God will teach it to him by giving him the most exasperating set of circumstances ever; if he asks God for peace, God will rock his world to make him learn to be peaceful in the storm.  While I know that God sometimes works that way, I don't live in fear that every lesson God has for me will be taught through a painful, heart-breaking turn in my life. 

This verse reminds us that every good thing and perfect thing in my life is from God.  He is the big, eternal, creator God.  The one we learn about in Sunday School as a child and continually through His word.

Side note:  Josie brought home a paper from Sunday School this week.  Apparently she decided to complete the activities.  Then she decided her work was so good it should be posted on her bedroom door.  We did not see any of this happen.  I did, however, discover this little gem taped up.  It sort of cracked me up.

I guess what I'm saying is that when we see God's beautiful creation, we remember that it's a gift from Him.  When we have blessed time with family... a gift.  When He meets a need in a specific, overabundant way... a gift.  He never changes.  He never shifts.  He is God.  Always.  He gives good gifts.  Always.  Even when the good gifts look like a trial.  Or a slimey.   He's good.  It's a gift.