As a kid I struggled with learning to read. To this day I feel like I should read faster than I do and I am a terrible speller (you likely have noticed). I was always playing, creating, and initiating mischief of one kind or another and for the life of me could not hear the different sounds the vowels made. Hooked on phonics didn’t work for me.
In first grade Mrs. Gillespie was intent of holding me back. I remember the meeting my parents had with her as I sat by the coats within earshot, as she explained that I was failing. What I remember her saying was that I would never learn to read – of course looking back, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t have said such a thing. From then on I was very afraid of her, and maybe my folks were too, because they moved me to a different school.
At my new school Mrs. Funk and Mrs. Huizinga team taught second grade. Mrs. Funk taught reading, and writing. She was nice, but I still couldn’t hear those pesky vowels. In the summers between second/third grades and third/fourth grades Mrs. Funk had me come over to her house for private reading lessons. Her house smelled different then ours, but not in a bad way just different. I remember we baked cookies and I had to read the directions. She made me feel like I could learn. When I graduated from college I sent her a letter to say thanks, I think the letter was more for me than for her.
Stan Lundy was a middle-school teacher who shaped me a great deal. At times I couldn’t stand him but his love won out. He just kept pursuing me. He taught me to play chess and modeled a love for Christ that made its way into the classroom.
I suppose I’m thinking about teachers because – in a more formal way – I am stepping into an educational. I owe so much to so many:
- Wayne Boldt who saw a pastor in me and told me so,
- Billy Strachan who deconstructed my calling in a loving way,
- Ken Badley who brought Christ and culture together,
- Glen Scorgie who wept as he quoted Calvin,
- Walter Frankenberry who taught me how to tend a flock,
- Robert Coleman who embodied discipleship and included me,
- Michael Bullmore who loved art and encouraged my writing,
- Paul Hiebert who opened my heart to missional living,
- Bill Hybels who fueled my love for Christ’s body,
- David Larson whose love for his wife was always evident,
- Wayne Grudem who prayed for me,
- Scott McKnight who helped me see Christ afresh,
- Grant Osborne who helped me to read beyond the page,
- Dieter Zander who made church beautiful in simplicity,
- Ruth Tucker who helped me own Christos Victor,
- Carl Henry who opened philosophy to me,
- John Ortberg who led me to Grace and taught me to drink of it,
- Andrew Jones who helps me to see what is – in the big sense,
- Greg Gorsuch who taught me to dance,
- Doug Pagitt who helps me to know I’m not alone,
- Dallas Willard who helps me think “kingdom”
- Christie Lynk who has not only opened a door but pointed it out and has held it open,
- Roy Barsness who is teaching me to think like a teacher,
- Bryan Burton who peals back the veil of the theologian’s life letting me gaze,
- Jim Davis who may well be one of the kindest people I’ve ever met,
- Heather Webb who said, “You can do it”
- Stanley Grenz who by his presence holds the bar high,
- Carl Raschke who makes thinking so much fun,
- Brian McLaren who so often voices what I haven’t had words for,
- Dan Allender who held out his hand, pulled me in and whispered “congratulations,”
- Joe Myers who is makes me think and wonder and …
- Kent Yinger whose hospitality, coaching and friendship mean more than words can say,
- Leonard Sweet who sees and loves and includes.
This list of my wise guides, teachers, and pastors is woefully incomplete; by God’s grace I will post more. I have so much for which to be thankful.
The baton by nature is to be passed.
Peace, dwight
