But If Not . . .

I have no good pictures of me teaching.  I'm always the one taking pictures.  But here's one of me (and Chris!)
at 5:50 am before the rest of the seminary students start arriving.

Do you ever suffer from disappointment with yourself due to high expectations that you set for yourself?  You know, those times when you feel so strongly that you need to perform at a certain level, but only find that you feel as if you are flailing about, trying to make things work, and failing miserably?  Those moments when you know that there is so much that you can give, but when you see that your best isn't working?  Well, I have those moments constantly when I struggle to get all that is in my head or in my heart out there to share, but it just doesn't flow.  And today was one of those days for me.  But all is not lost.  I think that I actually had one of those teachable moments meant for me, not for my students (although I sure hope that they walked away having learned something as well).  And every once in a while as a seminary teacher, I imagine that I'm allowed to have one of those days.

Cedara and Lilli studying hard

For those who don't know what in the world I'm talking about, seminary is a program in our church where high school students come together each day to study the scriptures.  In areas where there are a ton of members they can take this as a regular school class as they are released for the hour to attend the class in a nearby seminary building, but in an area like ours where there are fewer members the students come to meet before school begins each day.  That means that my class meets every single school day at 6 am.  6 am!  That is quite an accomplishment for a busy high school student to get themselves up and ready for the day at that hour.  And yet my class does it, all while still attending school full time, participating in extra-curricular activities, and sometimes having jobs on the side.  It is an amazing thing to see them dedicate themselves to doing this, usually with a smile on their faces.

I try to do my best to make things worthwhile for them.  I try to be very prepared and give them a lesson that will mean something to them.  I hope that everyday each of them will come away with a stronger conviction that they CAN choose the right that day, even in the face of overwhelming opposition at times.  I'm not the most knowledgeable teacher or the most dynamic or the most talented, but I come forth each day giving it my all, hoping that the Lord can make up the rest.

Well, today we studied the amazingly amazing story of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego and the fiery furnace found in Daniel, Chapter 3 of the Old Testament.

These guys?  Not exactly.
But sort of.

What an amazing story!  (I know . . . I'm saying amazing too much.  But I've been up since 4:45 am.  Cut me some slack.)  Just put yourself in their situation.  Everyone in the kingdom gathers, and all of them are commanded to bow down and worship this ginormous statue erected by King Nebuchadnezzar.  If they don't then they will be thrown into a fiery furnace because laws back then were no joke.  You followed them or else.  Shadrach, Meschach, and Abednego knew that they had been commanded not to worship images like this, so they had a choice to make.  Do they just follow the huge crowd, blend in, and bow down, maybe just saying, "Well, we'll bow down and make all the motions, but we won't really mean it."? Or do they stand for their convictions and probably end up being punished unto death by the king?  What would I do in that situation?  I can't even imagine.  We talk about the dangers of peer pressure a lot, but this is pressure to the extreme.  But anyway, after making the choice to defy the order of the king, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego are brought before the king to explain their actions.  The king restates his command and gives them one last chance to follow along.

Now, here is the part of the lesson that really, REALLY touched me as I prepared.  They stand up before the king and say:

If it be so, our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of thine hand, O king.
But if not, be it known unto thee, O king, that we will not serve thy gods, nor worship the golden image which thou hast set up. (Daniel 3: 17-18)

Powerful.  But the part of that response that means the most to me is this "BUT IF NOT."  These three men (boys really) had great faith, and they believed that their god could save them from the fires of the furnace,  BUT even if He chose not to save them, they would still make the same choice and do what was right.  It might cost them their lives, but they were willing to stand strong in opposition to the powerful.  This really made me think about my choices in life.  We so often do things that are right with the expectation that life will be easier, things will run smoother, we will be happier, and we will be protected in our hours of need.  That is generally the case.  But, what if things in our life are still difficult?  What if our life doesn't go smoothly, even though we are choosing to make good decisions in our life?  Do we continue to make good decisions, or do we simply give up and say that it doesn't matter?  Do we simply have faith that all will be well, but at the same time be absolutely willing to make the exact same choices even if it isn't?

Tyler and Daniel

Well, these questions really struck me as I was reading the story in preparation for teaching today.  I pondered on my own situation and the choices that I am asked to make every day.  Could I have the courage to stand behind my convictions, even if I am alone in that choice, and even if there was a possibility that life could be difficult after making that choice?  Could I do it?  The answer:  I really, really hope so.  I think I would.  But I don't know.  I guess I just have to continue to make good choices in the small matters so that I will be ready for the big matters that will come eventually.  That was my answer for me.

I started class today feeling all of the emotion of my preparation yesterday.  I felt like this was such an important lesson.  It was an awesome story -- a story of courage and triumph over adversity -- the best sort of stories from the scriptures.  I really wanted my lesson to do this story the justice it deserved.

And then the lesson began.  How did it go?  Well . . . I felt off.  Just off.  I can't explain it.  It just didn't feel right.  I had all of this info in my head and in my heart, and it wasn't coming out of my mouth.  What was wrong with me?  This was a great story.  It shouldn't be that hard to inspire enthusiasm as I taught it.  But it just fell flat.  I started to get frustrated with myself -- in my head.  I don't think anyone in class noticed it.  I was just having this constant internal dialogue with myself asking myself what I could do differently.  Come on.  Doesn't everyone have those conversations inside their head once in a while?  Luckily I stop myself from verbalizing my dialogue outwardly . . . most of the time.  So, I'm having this discussion with myself trying to figure out how to help this lesson hit home a bit more.

Laney

I had just given the group the assignment to take verses seventeen and eighteen and put them into their own words so that they could have a better understanding of exactly what these guys were saying to the king.  While they worked together on this I walked out of the classroom and hid myself in the little nook that leads to the stake president's office, and I said a mighty little prayer.  I asked Heavenly Father to please, please, please, please help me deliver the message of this lesson.  I wanted it to be a lesson that would have an impact on these students who are not facing the possibility of death in a fiery furnace each day but who are facing social consequences that at times might seem just as daunting to them when they choose to do what is right.  I didn't want for my lack of skill to be the thing that kept them from learning these important lessons.  I needed some help -- a lot of help.  And I wasn't above begging for it today.

I re-entered the room, confident that my prayers were going to be answered.  They had to be, right?  I continued to teach the lesson.  I thought that there was some amazing discussion with excellent comments from several people in the class.  And yet, I just didn't feel like I taught this lesson the way that I needed to teach it.  Class ended, and I think everyone was happy with how it had gone.  But not me.  I was a bit disappointed in myself.  I've had some moments in my church life when I have felt that feeling that comes after you know you hit it out of the ballpark when you are teaching a lesson.  I don't mean this in a prideful sort of way.  I just mean that you know that you said exactly what you were meant to say.  It wasn't perfect, but you got the job done.  I have yet to have that feeling with seminary.  Every single day I leave class thinking of the ten thousand things I could have done better.  I think of the phrases I use and how I could  have said things differently.  I think about how I forgot to involve the class more in the discussion, or how I didn't ask the right follow-up questions.  I am hard on myself, but only because I feel like I have such an important role to play in the lives of these high school students who are in the process of making choices that will affect their futures.  I want to be all that they need me to be.

Rylie, Adrienne, and Thomas

Well, after class I talked to Herman on the phone.  He is on his way to north Missouri to do come consulting for a school district there, so he wasn't home when I arrived.  I told him how the lesson had gone and how disappointed I was with how I had taught the lesson.  I told him how I left the class half-way through because I felt like I needed to reboot and do something differently.  Herman is such an amazing gift to me in this calling because he has such an impressive knowledge of good teaching practices, and he has taught seminary when things went great and when things went terribly.  He understands.  And more importantly, he understands me enough to know when you use my dissatisfaction with my teaching to inspire me to improve and do better, and when to tell me that I was doing just fine and not to berate myself for every little mistake.

As Herman talked to me today he asked me about my experience saying the little prayer in the middle of class.  He asked me if I felt like the lesson went any better after the prayer.  I replied that I didn't feel all that much different during the second half of the lesson.  It wasn't a bad lesson.  It just wasn't what I hoped it could be.  At that point Herman said, "Well, maybe that was your 'but if not' moment.  The moment when you came to the Lord, asked for His assistance, but went back into the class, knowing that you would continue to teach even if things didn't go according to plan."  Maybe that was right.  Okay.  I wasn't going to face a potential date with a fiery furnace, but I was heading in to face fifteen high school students who might be entirely dependent on me teaching something that could carry them through any trials they might face.  And I chose to continue to teach, having faith that something we discussed would make a difference.  So I taught.  It may not have been exactly the lesson that I hoped to teach in my head, but at the end of the day I have to have a bit of faith that it would end up being the lesson that someone needed to hear.

I wish that when I taught seminary I could see a visual representation of what is going on in class.  I wish that everyone could come into class with their little oil lamps needing a bit of oil.  I wish that I could see those little lamps fill with oil as each student gained something from the lesson.  I think I'm making a difference.  But I'm not totally sure.  I don't see the changes that maybe their families and friends might see.  I wish I could know that all of the preparation I make, the lack of sleep, the mental beatings I give myself after each lesson as I work to improve a little each time, and all of the time sacrificed to come to class every single day would be something that would make a noticeable difference in each seminary student's life.  I wish that everyone will look back on this time in their life and be able to say, "Thank goodness that I could come to seminary each day."  I wish that twenty years from now I would get little notes sent by these students saying, "Sister Blau, you made a difference in my life."

But if not . . .

I'd still do it over and over again.  I love my seminary class, and I love teaching seminary!

Thomas, Todd, Rylie, Tyler, and Michael