Today's passage is Nehemiah 1:1-11. Nehemiah is the cup-bearer to King Artaxerxes. One day he learns from some visiting Jews that the walls of Jerusalem are broken and the gates burned.
He goes into mourning, fasts and prays.
He confesses his sins, the sins of his family, and the sins of his nation. He asks God to grant him success when he goes to the king to ask a favor.
Like Nehemiah, I have a high position in my school, but I am not king. Because I have a couple of students who got into trouble and were expelled, I am mourning. But not enough. I don't have enough love for them to deeply mourn, to weep over them and pray to God to grant me a favor.
I needed to convince my fellow committee members to change their minds and rescind the explusions and let the boys back into school in the fall. But I wasn't of one mind. I wanted to rescue them--along with all the trouble that will mean next semester!--but I was also thinking politically, humanistically, by wondering what kind of message we'd be giving to other students, parents, etc.
if we reversed our initial decision, which was made in haste and anger and frustration, rationalized by acting "on behalf of the good of the school."
Because my mind was divided, I failed to convince my committee members.
My failure is one of love. I don't love these boys or any of my students enough to fight for them. I read stories of dedicated teachers and principals that change the lives of their students.
Here is God's opportunity for me and my school to make a real difference in the lives of two students and we're failing from a lack of love and a lack of will.
I have one more chance to convince my committee members tomorrow. I have to show that I'm interested in students not solving a problem.
Then maybe I can have God's mind.
