Practical Application

You remember when you were in high school, the math or science teacher used to hand out these homework assignments that drilled you on formulas and theories? The beginning questions were supposed to help you capture the idea of the principle, and the problems would only have a few factors in them that you had to figure out. I was really good at those questions. You know, getting the theory and figuring out if it was b or +a missing; I could even get excited about it sometimes. It made sense. It was clean and clear-cut. But then at the end of the assignment, there was always this section of problems entitled “Practical Application.” That section always gave me trouble. Instead of the question setting up the problem and you figuring out which factor was missing, there were a whole bunch of random factors or situations in which you had to set up the problem and figure out the answer. Instead of nice little italic letters, there were real numbers and measurements and reactions. You even had to figure out what was supposed to be a factor and what was just extra information. It frustrated me. And you know what the worst part was? Most of the time, my mistakes weren’t in setting up the problem or arranging the factors together. They happened when I was so focused on the major players that I didn’t pay attention to the details. Like addition or subtraction or multiplying right.
Ever since I was little girl, I’ve been enrolled in a class called “The God Thing- Christianity and All that Entails.” Learning the bible verses, going through confirmation, memorizing the books of the bible in order- yep, I can still sing the song. I’ve even been to the seminars and workshops and retreats. Heck, I’ve staffed them. But it goes deeper than that. Hearing someone teach on something I’ve never thought of before or finally having the light bulb go on during worship thrills me. Diving into a passage and discovering what it meant in its cultural or lingual context can have me excited for a week. I get it. But in the last year or so, I’ve hit this weird section of life called “Practical Application,” with an emphasis in surrender and obedience. It’s awkward. It’s messy. I don’t like it. It leaves me groping for the factors and fumbling through situations that weren’t my idea in the first place. And there’s that irritating little note in the instructions that says, “Pay attention to the details.” The ones that are easy to skip over or forget. Like reading what He’s spoken or keeping a leash on my thoughts or meaning what I say when I pray. And as I’m floundering around trying to figure out right from left, the big question comes up: where the heck is my Teacher when I need him?
I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to feel like opening the curtain and showing what He’s got going on backstage. But I know He’s there. I can occasionally hear the echo of His footsteps and can definitely feel when He moves the factors around. Why I can’t look into His eyes right at moment, I’m not sure. But I’m choosing to believe He’s bigger than that. And as much as I hate it, I’m convinced that practical application is necessary part of the class; in fact, I doubt that there’s any part that’s more key. I know there’s going to be mistakes all over my finished product. But I also know my Teacher. And when He finally pulls open the curtain, He’ll have taught me something more beautiful than I can hope for now. It’s because of Him that I’ll survive “Practical Application.” Maybe that’s the whole point anyway.