For me, spiritual moments often happen at the most random times and in random places. They happen more frequently when I am in the middle of praying or reading the Bible, yet they are not something I can manufacture. In my life, they often hit when something makes me think about God, bringing His involvement in the world around me to the front of my mind.
This happened once when I was giving a test.
I teach high school Spanish, and teaching is usually kind of a frenetic activity for me, in a good way. Monitoring a room of thirty hormonal kids (all frontal lobes underdeveloped), explaining concepts and distributing copies of practice activities, noting who is behind and floundering and who is ahead and bored, making transitions flow smoothly, keeping a positive attitude (or at least a positive front) when discipline needs to happen, taking note of which activities need to be adjusted or dropped for the next class, making sure everyone is communicating for the most part en español, por favor; these take up pretty much all of my mental capacity on most days, leaving little room for deep inner reflection while I am teaching. Teaching itself is the time for heightened sensory intake and snap decision-making; reflection comes afterward.
But there was one time last year when I was giving a test. My thirty-two students were sitting concentrated, for once disconnected from their phones and from each other (at least externally), blissfully silent, staring down at the assessment I'd given them to do. They were focused; I was gazing around the room from my desk to see if they were all settled or if anyone had any questions, making sure no one was looking at his neighbor's test or at his palm or a phone or a suspect water bottle.
As I looked around the room at a group of diverse kids, different nationalities and races and personalities and backgrounds and strengths and weaknesses, all in one room, a thought hit me: "All of these kids are made in the image of God."
Really seeing people as image-bearers of the divine changes how you think about them.
It's not that I thought they looked like God. From what I understand, the Bible describes God in human physical characteristics so that we can understand Him better, not because He actually has hands and arms and feet (except Jesus does. But that's not the main point now). I understand the image of God to be more about characteristics of God that humans, but not animals, share.
Like God, I was thinking, these kids can set a higher goal; they can do things that don't make sense immediately for a benefit in the long run. They can use language, not just for factual communication but for so much more. They can analyze and understand their own emotions. They possess the ability to reason themselves out of their instincts, the ability to plan for forty years down the road. They can question their realities. They are deeply relational and desire community. They solve problems and are creative, making solutions and stories out of nothing more than the thoughts in their minds. They have souls, I thought. These kids, each one with a pencil in hand, staring down at the paper on his or her desk, are eternal.
What's more, I kept thinking, as goosebumps were rising all over my skin, is all these kids are individually precious to Him. He loves them; He knows their every thought and how many hairs are on their heads. He keeps track of all their lives, knows their comings and goings, and created them, carefully, for a purpose. Every single one of these thirty-two kids that I teach every week, only really getting to know a handful... He knows them and understands them and loves them.
It's hard to describe how something is felt as holy. I was thinking about God and His involvement in my students' lives, and a deep sense of peace, felt like a fog, enveloped me. It suddenly felt like God was in the room with me, communicating to me His love for all the kids.
When you love and are in awe of God, and you remember how much He loves the people around you, it makes you value them, because He values them. It made me want to be a better teacher for my students; I wanted to make Spanish the most challenging and fun class they'd ever had. It made me determined to keep calm even on rough days and, even in the midst of bad behavior and disciplinary moments, treat each child with kindness, dignity, and respect.
In a respite from the normal chaos and orchestration and rapid-fire decision-making that is teaching, I became fully aware of the great privilege and responsibility I enjoy every day when I deal with so many of His image-bearers. It was a gift.
