teach me

A teacher friend was describing the end of her school year to me. She works in a special needs classroom with students consolidated from a couple of districts, and her students ended up in class a week longer than some of their siblings. She said as soon as their brothers and sisters were out of school, she lost her students. They didn’t care about learning anymore.

This morning, when I read Psalm 86:11, I wondered if I was like those students, not wanting to learn (and maybe the special needs part, too). That verse says, “Teach me your way, Lord, that I may rely on your faithfulness; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name.”

My teacher friend said, “It’s almost impossible to teach if they don’t want to learn.” I had a drill sergeant who figured out how, but his technique was mostly aversion therapy so it’s probably not readily adaptable to most of life.

Have I lost my interest in learning God’s way? Am I more interested in figuring out how to have a secure retirement, or how to fix my golf swing, or the best way to build a deck? Would I rather study military history or figure out where my next life bird will come from? Do I pay more attention to professional topics like capacity planning and warehouse velocity? Honestly, I think I do.

Life is a busy, demanding thing and I fear that, when God tries to teach me, I ignore him because I’m focused on something else. And that’s a bit worrisome, because I know that God will adopt some of the teaching techniques of my drill sergeant if that’s the only way he can get my attention.

But here’s the real question: Why on earth am I not captivated by the things God teaches? Not only does He speak to the things of life - relationships and how to cope with adversity and what gives true happiness - but this verse points to an awesome benefit. It says that if I learn from God, I will also rely on his faithfulness, making life even easier.

To get my priorities right, I need to pray the second half of this verse: “Give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name.” Do I dare pray that, knowing what it might mean? Do I dare not to?