No one from the east or the west or the desert can judge you. God is the judge. He judges one person as guilty and another as innocent. The Lord holds a cup of anger in His hand. It is full of wine mixed with spices. He pours it out even to the last drop, and the wicked shall drink it all. (Verses 6-8)
For His anger is but for a moment, and His favor is for a lifetime. Psalm 30: 5a
I was sitting in the office of the Superintendent of Schools in Arlington, Texas, one morning in 1971. I'd just finished my student teaching in that district at a local middle school and was applying for a job within that system. Ann, my mentor teacher, was instrumental in my getting this coveted interview as was the language arts director of the Arlington schools. I left the office that day with an actual reference from the superintendent. He'd already heard how effective a teacher I was. Couldn't wait to have me on the team. I was elated! I didn't even apply to any other school districts so sure was I that my job in Arlington was secure.
I was sitting in the office of the Superintendent of Schools in Arlington, Texas, one morning a few weeks later. "Can you tell me why I didn't get the job here?
"I don't do the hiring, Kay," he began, "the Assistant Superintendent does." The superintendent changed positions in his chair. "It seems you missed the first meeting of student teachers when he introduced the program. He was offended by this. I'm so sorry."
I'd never been made aware of such a meeting. Ann knew but it had slipped her mind. Apparently there was some bit of animosity between them of which I was also unaware. No job for me there. I couldn't wrap my head around it. Or my heart.
In a panic I rushed to check out any schools that might, so late in the hiring process, need a teacher. Red Oak, Texas. A suburb of Dallas, of which pretty much no one was aware, needed a middle school English teacher/librarian. Dewey decimal system was a fog to me. But I loved English.
I was sitting in the office of the Superintendent of Schools in Red Oak, Texas, one morning in 1971. "You teach speech, I see," he said with a big grin.
"I do," I replied. "I was a college debater and speech team member."
"I coach the debaters at the high school." He beamed with pride. "We win."
"Then I will win, too," I assured the man.
My first day of classes was preceded by a one day crash course in library science from the woman who had overseen the school's library for years. My senior speech class was filled with kids almost my age. The middle school English class was peopled by pubescent kids with minimal skills. My dreams of advancing the cause of literacy seemed doomed. The rest of my schedule was taken up with library things. The place is probably still a mess all these years later.
But God chose where to give me favor. Where to promote me. It didn't really come from the administration of the Arlington schools nor from Don Shields, the kind man for whom I worked in Red Oak. God's favor had to do with His plan. That I couldn't have even guessed when I drove out to the boonies of suburbia to ask for a job. Before the first semester even ended, almost fifty students became Christians because of a fluke. A Christian man came by the library because he'd heard I was a Christian, too. He regularly delivered goods to the school. On one these stops he told me of a young man who visited schools and told of how he had become drug-free. Would I help him set up such an assembly in Red Oak. "He won't mention Christ at the school. We will have the kids come later to a nearby church where the young minister will then tell the kids about Jesus."
Of course, the young preacher did tell the kids about Jesus in the assembly. The principal came screaming to me that "this is worse than alcohol in the schools," and I was persona non grata for a bit. However, favor came from the place most counter intuitive. The kids. They loved me as much as I loved them and came that night to the local Baptist church to hear the gospel fully preached. Many became Christians. Bill and I had a family of babies to rear in the Lord. Favored by Him to love these students become spiritual children.
It is His favor I have learned to seek. Man's favor doesn't really matter to God's agenda for me. It's like GPS. We are guided to the place of promotion. Find ourselves in the spot where the little flag is waving and the Map Voice declares: "You have reached your destination." I know Red Oak seemed at least second best when I was rejected in Arlington. I judged it to be inferior and took the job out of the desperation of thinking I would become a secretary with no typing skills. Silly me. No one was more blessed by going in the direction where my favor lay than I.
All of my life as a child of God -- every single day -- I have great favor. I am the apple of His eye. The Beloved of His heart. His little lamb. A mighty warrior princess child of the King of Kings. The face of my Father beams when He looks at me because He judges me to be His. I am a joint heir with Christ, receiving all that He will inherit. I will let this God be my only judge, not looking to the east or the west or to the desert mountains to see what I should think of myself. Nor will I decide what favor from the world looks like. As long as He delights in me, I have all the affirmation I will ever need.
For His anger is but for a moment, and His favor is for a lifetime. Psalm 30: 5a
I was sitting in the office of the Superintendent of Schools in Arlington, Texas, one morning in 1971. I'd just finished my student teaching in that district at a local middle school and was applying for a job within that system. Ann, my mentor teacher, was instrumental in my getting this coveted interview as was the language arts director of the Arlington schools. I left the office that day with an actual reference from the superintendent. He'd already heard how effective a teacher I was. Couldn't wait to have me on the team. I was elated! I didn't even apply to any other school districts so sure was I that my job in Arlington was secure.
I was sitting in the office of the Superintendent of Schools in Arlington, Texas, one morning a few weeks later. "Can you tell me why I didn't get the job here?
"I don't do the hiring, Kay," he began, "the Assistant Superintendent does." The superintendent changed positions in his chair. "It seems you missed the first meeting of student teachers when he introduced the program. He was offended by this. I'm so sorry."
I'd never been made aware of such a meeting. Ann knew but it had slipped her mind. Apparently there was some bit of animosity between them of which I was also unaware. No job for me there. I couldn't wrap my head around it. Or my heart.
In a panic I rushed to check out any schools that might, so late in the hiring process, need a teacher. Red Oak, Texas. A suburb of Dallas, of which pretty much no one was aware, needed a middle school English teacher/librarian. Dewey decimal system was a fog to me. But I loved English.
I was sitting in the office of the Superintendent of Schools in Red Oak, Texas, one morning in 1971. "You teach speech, I see," he said with a big grin.
"I do," I replied. "I was a college debater and speech team member."
"I coach the debaters at the high school." He beamed with pride. "We win."
"Then I will win, too," I assured the man.
My first day of classes was preceded by a one day crash course in library science from the woman who had overseen the school's library for years. My senior speech class was filled with kids almost my age. The middle school English class was peopled by pubescent kids with minimal skills. My dreams of advancing the cause of literacy seemed doomed. The rest of my schedule was taken up with library things. The place is probably still a mess all these years later.
But God chose where to give me favor. Where to promote me. It didn't really come from the administration of the Arlington schools nor from Don Shields, the kind man for whom I worked in Red Oak. God's favor had to do with His plan. That I couldn't have even guessed when I drove out to the boonies of suburbia to ask for a job. Before the first semester even ended, almost fifty students became Christians because of a fluke. A Christian man came by the library because he'd heard I was a Christian, too. He regularly delivered goods to the school. On one these stops he told me of a young man who visited schools and told of how he had become drug-free. Would I help him set up such an assembly in Red Oak. "He won't mention Christ at the school. We will have the kids come later to a nearby church where the young minister will then tell the kids about Jesus."
Of course, the young preacher did tell the kids about Jesus in the assembly. The principal came screaming to me that "this is worse than alcohol in the schools," and I was persona non grata for a bit. However, favor came from the place most counter intuitive. The kids. They loved me as much as I loved them and came that night to the local Baptist church to hear the gospel fully preached. Many became Christians. Bill and I had a family of babies to rear in the Lord. Favored by Him to love these students become spiritual children.
It is His favor I have learned to seek. Man's favor doesn't really matter to God's agenda for me. It's like GPS. We are guided to the place of promotion. Find ourselves in the spot where the little flag is waving and the Map Voice declares: "You have reached your destination." I know Red Oak seemed at least second best when I was rejected in Arlington. I judged it to be inferior and took the job out of the desperation of thinking I would become a secretary with no typing skills. Silly me. No one was more blessed by going in the direction where my favor lay than I.
All of my life as a child of God -- every single day -- I have great favor. I am the apple of His eye. The Beloved of His heart. His little lamb. A mighty warrior princess child of the King of Kings. The face of my Father beams when He looks at me because He judges me to be His. I am a joint heir with Christ, receiving all that He will inherit. I will let this God be my only judge, not looking to the east or the west or to the desert mountains to see what I should think of myself. Nor will I decide what favor from the world looks like. As long as He delights in me, I have all the affirmation I will ever need.
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