Everything I Ever Needed To Know, I Learned In Algebra!

Once in a while, everyone screws up.

Stacey wrote in Thoughts From A First Year Minister about something funny that happened during Communion service. You can read what happens by going to her blog and reading the September 4th post on "Playing Pastor." Stacey -- you are right -- spitting the Communion bread out would not have been a good idea!

A few days ago Behind the Pulpit asked a few good questions on his post, "You Know..."

I wonder how other pastors feel about failure? Have there been places in your ministries as pastors, leaders, and volunteers where you've felt like you've let the church down? How do you not take the issues within the life of the church personally? How do you deal with those issues in a way that allows others to know that you truly care about their desires, hopes, and dreams for their ideal church without compromising your own heart for what you feel like God has called you to do and be as a pastor? How do you keep from running away and completely giving up?

I read this and thought about so many things.

The organ fund that almost died because a single elder convinced the rest of the Session it was too difficult.

The mission trip the church decided not to take.

The time Presbytery put me on a committee to create a new conference center -- and we never made any progress with it.

I think about a couple of humiliating mistakes I've made that are best left unshared.

Most of all, I think of Algebra back in 1969.

Algebra was the most valuable class I took during high school.

I was a lousy student, and paying attention to the teacher never seemed to be a good use of my time. Algebra was no different. It fell on me to find productive work to do during the class time.

I wrote notes to Patti, until she broke up with me on Valentine’s Day (Damn you dastardly Patti!). So then I started writing notes to Eve.

Sometimes I’d read favorite works of literature. You know – the classics: Spiderman, Daredevil, Fantastic Four.

Occasionally I would try my hand at art – you should have seen the masterpiece I produced of the Principal.

One day, John pounded me on the back and pointed at the teacher.

There was Mrs. J, standing at the class droning on and on about something being greater or less than something else.

Holy cow, her skirt was coming loose.

Mrs. J was big woman. I knew there was no way that skit would make it beyond those massive hips.

Still, ever so slowly, the whole class began to pay attention.

Mrs. J should have known something was up. After all, she had never had our undivided attention until now.

It was when she was erasing something on the board that it happened. Mrs. J would put her whole body into the erasing process. It was like watching some old and senile person do the Twist. Her right hand would move the eraser back and forth. The flabby part of her arms would move back and forth like – well, the only thing I can think of is a bowl of Jell-O shaking in slow motion. Her left arm seemed to be needed for some sort of balancing process. And the hips. My Lord those hips! It was as if moving those hips generated the energy necessary to erase the equation from the board.

The skirt fell to her ankles and I thanked the Lord for the invention of slips! When the skirt fell, I felt a wave of sorrow for this woman.

I was laughing hysterically with everyone else, so the wave of sorrow couldn’t have been that much.

I’ll never forget what happened next.

Mrs. J bent over (Oh Mrs. J, why didn’t you turn and face the class before bending over). She picked up her skirt. She wiggled into it and fashioned it.

And then…

She continued to teach as if nothing had happened.

Over the years I have found this moment in my life to have been a great teaching moment.

I don’t know much about algebra, but I do know Mrs. J taught me a great lesson for life. As I look back, she was one of my best teachers. She was a wonderful lady who had the strength not to be overcome by humiliation, and the dignity to continue in her calling in the face of adversities that only 9th graders can provide.

Sometimes you screw up – whether it is by your own fault or another’s fault. Sometimes you find yourself humiliated. Sometimes things are so bad, you think, “It can’t get any worse than this” – and you’re right. It’s really that bad.

What can you do?

You just pick up your skirt -- or your life -- wiggle into it, secure it, and move on to the next problem.