Last night I finished reading the book of Ezra. At first I was a little bored by the letters to the king and all the lists and genealogies but last night, I was really challenged by the way the book ends.

Ezra is convicted of the Israelites' intermarriage with women of races who had "detestable practices." He proceeds to weep and mourn for the sins that were committed. I don't really ever feel strongly affected by sin. I remember shedding tears over the sins of other people, but not my own. I barely acknowledge the fact that I have sins.

What happens next is that the people of Israel put their wives "away". At first, I got really sad. The first thought to pop into my head was what if they loved their wives. Then I realized that it was what God was asking his people to do. It didn't matter how much they loved what he had asked them to give up.

On Sunday, Greg preached out the Prodigal Sons. He talked about the different features of the Father's love for both his wayward sons. Anyways, one facet of the Father's love for his boys is that it's costly. His one son asked for his inheritance, and so the Father liquidated his estate to give his younger son what he asked for - that cost him one third of all his belongings. The other way it was costly was that he had to endure the insult of his younger son and the shame that his son placed on him though his actions. Christ gave up so much because his very essence is love and he could do no less, despite the cost. When God asks his people to give something up, no matter how dear it may be, it should be given up out of a grateful heart. When we have to give something up for God, we often think about what we are missing out on, instead of what we are gaining.

I want a heart that is willing to give up whatever God asks of it. And I want a heart that breaks over its own sin.



Here's a story from my classroom today:

I gave new assigned seats today. I had no idea that it would be the cause of so much WHINING. "But Ms. Jackson- I loved my old seat!" Listen, people are creature of habit. I am well aware of this because I am the most habitually driven of all the people in the whole world, but it was time to change things up because there was just a little too much talking. They'd gotten to comfortable. So I assured that next quarter when I change up their seats again, they would be just as whiny and like their former seats just as much and then they would get used to it. I don't really think that this was reassuring, but they'll live. Kids are delightfully resilient.

In second period, I was a little concerned because I put A and J a little closer than I'd like to have, but really there are only so many seats. So true to form, I get my kids working on their journals today, and A turns around to talk to J. I mean, they were kind of on topic because they were discussing what J was writing in his journal, which was questionable even though asked for them to keep it g/pg for my teacher brain. So, I decided to cut in by asking A, "Are you going to be able to handle sitting this close to J?" A responded to me by saying, "Really Ms. Jackson, the question is can you handle it." And I think that that is a very good question, one that I am still pondering and one that is applicable to many areas of my life.

I'd like to fix dinner now, but there is a very content, warm cat lounging on my stomach. I'll figure it out.


currently listening to: Question, Rhett Miller (cute, cute song, but oddly enough, I don't like the rest of his stuff. Sorry Rhett.)