Mr. Snyder, my pal

“I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business.  Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you.”  John 15:15 NIV

The Principal at my elementary school was Mr. Snyder.  I honestly don’t know his first name because we were never allowed to use it.  Unfortunately, Mr. Snyder and I became friends for the wrong reasons.  I spent quite a bit of time in his office.  Welborn Elementary School had two buildings, a single-story brick building for K through third grade.  The “big building” was a three-story brick building for grades four through six.  A parking lot and playground separated the two buildings. 

The office was in the smaller building, so once you made it to the big building the only reason to go to the little building was to go see the nurse or the Principal.  I don’t know where the nurse’s office was, but I still remember the inside of Mr. Snyder’s office.  If you were summoned to the office, you had to walk across the parking lot.  We used that distance to get our stories straight until they started calling us over individually.  Freaking genius.

I was not a terrible kid.  But we felt free to explore when they had not properly told us each instance we were not to be doing so.  The dumbest thing we ever did was sneak out the fire escape from the second floor so we could meet on the playground to play a little football, true story.  Every teacher and every disciplinarian at that school could see directly onto the playground by simply looking out the wall of windows in their room. 

We were surprised to see Mr. Snyder come out to watch us play.  We were more surprised to learn that he did not come out to watch and the red face and veins sticking out of his neck should have given us a clue.  He was the first person in charge of my discipline other than my parents.  We liked him, but we were also a little scared of him.  I remember one teacher using the spelling of his title in an attempt to make us less fearful.  He was our “pal”. 

This was back in the days of corporal punishment, and our pal used it.  They even had a teacher assigned to help with that task.  If you heard the phrase “see you at 3:20” you had to report or you would have to report more than once.  At times they handed you a piece of paper that just said “3:20”, no words needed.  Mr. Edwards was the largest human I had ever seen, and I think he actually enjoyed the role a little.  Also, he used a leather razor strap.  Can you imagine?  Literal fear, not that we became totally compliant.  We did get a little sneakier. 

I also remember Sunday School at church during that time.  I guess I never really didn’t know God.  Our family believed and attended regularly.  Vacation Bible school and even summer camps backed up our experience.  I knew God, but I was also a little afraid of him.  I sort of thought of him as a disciplinarian, maybe a little like I thought of Mr. Snyder. 

Maybe I remember inaccurately, but it seemed like the First Baptist Church of Bethel taught us that God spent time watching us just in case we were doing something wrong.  I spent a large part of my life – like still recent decades – fighting the image of God as more of a disciplinarian than as a loving God who actually wanted to save me. 

I am 61 years old and I can tell you that it was really just in the past year or two that I realized I was praying to God like He was mad at me.  God may not like my actions  - my sin.  But He did send me Jesus.  My change came when I realized that the me Jesus died for was all in His future, I wasn’t even born yet.  So, if He took all my sin – in the future, I have no past sin that wasn’t subject to the grace He offered me.  None.  Why do I hold me up to Him like I am trying to prove Him insufficient.  He is sufficient. 

This change in thinking has caused me to spend more time talking to my friend Jesus than feeling like I am too guilty to deserve God’s attention.  I have found that it seems more like Jesus riding in the car with me at work than God giving me the stink eye through the roof of the car as I drive.  God loves me.  He sent Jesus for me.  Jesus loves me.  Jesus died for me.  Better yet, He got up.  I have unfettered access to Him and to the grace He offered me.  So do you.

Have you ever thought your past made you sort of ineligible for grace?  It doesn’t. 

Do you spend more time thinking God must be mad at you than of how much He loves you?  I have missed the point every time I have done so.

Challenge:  Jesus saw all of you and took you anyway.  Don’t decrease the magnitude of Him by thinking you are enough to pull your hand out of His grasp. 

Rick Claiborn