The Perfect Substitute

If you have been following this blog at all (or peeking at my facebook wall), you know I have been working as a substitute teacher this year.  It has been the most exciting, eventful, changing, stressful, fun, difficult, challenging, and hilarious job I’ve had.  I have felt like a vagrant teacher; I have felt like a nomadic teacher.  I have no “home” school; I have no consistent schedule.  And the work can be far more difficult than what my paycheck indicates.

Clearly, I have truly enjoyed it, or else I probably wouldn’t force my facebook friends to read daily updates and “moments” from my days in the classroom.  I always have a story to tell by the day’s end. 

But I don’t post everything on facebook.  Like when I line the class up to head to music, only to realize I don’t know where the music room is and I receive 12 different answers from Kindergarteners about where the music room is located.  I don’t tell you about the times I abandon an entire lesson plan because, well, things just aren’t working.  I don’t tell you about the times I can’t find the materials and forgo the science lesson that was supposed to take place at 10:45.  I don’t tell you about the days I end feeling worn out and ineffective.  Simply put, I don’t tell you about my faults as a substitute. 

The definition of substitute is, “one that takes the place of another; a replacement.”  This is precisely what I do on a daily basis.  I take the place of a teacher who is sick, who is out of town, who is at a meeting, or taking care of sick kids at home. Being a “substitute” is difficult due to its own definition; it’s hard to take the place of someone else.  

When I serve as a substitute, I make a lot of mistakes.  I simply cannot be the exact replacement of another teacher.  I can’t count how many times I’ve been told “that’s not how Mrs. So-And-So does it!”  I don’t know how to run each teacher’s “math warm-up.”  I often struggle to figure out the password to the copy machine.  I don’t line up the students like they usually do to go to lunch.  I probably tell too many jokes.  I am an imperfect substitute. 

I was thinking about this the other day: I come into a classroom, do my best to decipher (sometimes seriously lacking) substitute plans, and leave the day not being all too responsible for what happened (or what DIDN’T happen) during the day.  I always end my sub notes with something along the lines of “don’t hesitate to call me with any questions about the day,” but I know they really won’t call because the moment that teacher walks back in the room, they are back to being responsible for their students and I am out of the picture, at least until the next 24 hour flu comes their way.

So what makes a “perfect” substitute?  A perfect substitute is a complete replacement; a perfect substitute wholly takes the place of another; a perfect substitute does not leave any loose ends; a perfect substitute leaves nothing more to be desired.  Sound familiar?  Jesus is our complete replacement, wholly takes our place, does not leave any loose ends, and leaves nothing more to be desired. 

During this Easter holiday, this truth becomes a focus of many.  Rather than give us the punishment due our sins, we are offered the perfect substitute requiring only one thing: saying “OK.”  All we have to do is believe and accept the gift of perfect substitution.  We don’t have to write sub plans (we don’t need to come up with an elaborate way to accept this gift; we can simply say “OK”), don’t have to make copies ahead of time in case the substitute can’t figure out the copy machine (we don’t need to have all our ducks in a row before we are eligible for this gift), and we don’t have to worry about the issues of student problems and unfinished lessons when we come back (this gift will never be revoked, even when we continue to sin). 

Our substitute is complete and enduring.  And the sub notes?  They look something like this:

“I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?” (John 11:25, 26)

Jesus with skin on

It was our first meal in Cachí (the village where we stayed in Costa Rica) when we met our friend, José.  As we finished our meal, I looked out the window to my right and saw a little boy’s head peeking around the corner.  I waved and he smiled back.  After a good 5 or 10 minutes of staring in the window, he decided to come inside with his own permission.  The group was receiving directions for the day when this boy began walking around, giving hugs, waving “hello,” and making himself at home. 

I tried to ask José how he was, “Como estás?”  No reply.  Then I tried to ask him his name, “Como se llama?”  No reply.  As a last resort, I simply tried to say hello, “Hola?”  Still, no reply.  It turns out that José is deaf.  It broke my heart that I couldn’t communicate with this little boy who was so excited that the gringos had arrived in Cachí.  How would I build a relationship with him?  How would I get to know him?  How would I share with him about Christ? 

The fact that we struggled to communicate with José didn’t deter him from visiting us daily.  Everyday as our bus would return from our village ministry, José was standing in the road awaiting our return.  He wore the biggest smile, waved his arms, and ran alongside of the bus as we pulled up to the church.  José was a common sight to see among our team.  He loved to take our cameras and have paparazzi photo shoots, he loved to clap to the music we played, he gave daily hugs, and was our biggest fan at futsal games. 

By the end of our stay in Cachí, it was apparent that we had all built a relationship with our new friend.  As we said our goodbyes as we loaded the bus to leave, José gave out his famous hugs (this time a little longer than normal) and shed tears to see us go.  It broke my heart.  But I was joyful in knowing that we had managed to show love to José (and he showed love to us) regardless of the fact that we could not talk to him.  We had shared Christ with José. 

Our ministry in Costa Rica was with the ticos there.  For the most part, they did not speak English, or only spoke a little.  This made ministry difficult for many people on the team who did not know any Spanish.  How could we share Christ if we couldn’t speak the same language?  Where do you begin? 

Just like with José, sharing Christ does not need to come from words alone.  Of course, we were equipped with Spanish pamphlets that explained the Gospel, but the main way we shared Christ was through our actions.  The students were often sent out to be “Jesus with skin on.”  This was a time for students to go out into the villages and do things Christ would do: pick up trash, buy treats for kids, wash cars, strike up conversations with lonely people (even if these conversations only consisted of ‘como estás?’), clean someone’s shop, LOVE PEOPLE. 

“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you are also to love one another.  By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”  (John 13: 34-35)

That’s what we are called to do: love people.  So find ways to love.  How can you love with actions?  How can you share Christ in all you do?  Go and be Jesus with skin on.  

Coke in my mascara

For those of you who don’t know, if your mascara gets clumpy, you can simply add some Coke into the tube and it will be back in mint condition. However, the word “simply” seems to evade the idea of actually getting the coke from the can into the small mascara tube. How exactly does one get the Coke in there? It seems to call for a sticky situation. Mascara tubes were just not made for pouring Coke into them.

In order to make the process more efficient, one would need a “mediator,” if you will, between the Coke can and the mascara tube: a funnel, or maybe an eyedropper. With the use of such a tool, the Coke is easily moved from the can into the tube. A process seemingly impossible is made possible.

Now imagine yourself as the mascara tube. Your life gets “gunky” and seems to have become less than perfect, less than what you are meant to be. We need something to smoothen us out again and remove the impurities. We are in need of something to bring us back to perfection. Or in other words, we need some Coke. Our Coke is God. But how do we go about getting this omniscient, omnipresent, sovereign, all-powerful God in us? Our sinful nature separates us from God and makes the task of getting Him in us impossible without some kind of assistance. We need a mediator between God and us.

So what is our funnel? What is our eyedropper? This is where Jesus comes in, our perfect mediator. He makes this seemingly impossible task of getting God in us, possible. Jesus tore the curtain separating us from God; he took away the restraints of the Coke can and the narrow mascara tube. He is the means of creating a personal relationship with God.

I don’t mean to reduce God to a sugary, less than satisfying beverage, or Jesus to an eternally misplaced kitchen gadget. But it is amazing to think that through Jesus, we are given new life. We are restored to mascara like the day it is opened, when it makes our eyelashes look like advertisements. Attempting to know and have a relationship with God without Jesus as our mediator proves an impossible feat. We need Jesus who suffered like us, lived among us, and prays for us, to bring us to God and God to us.