WACKY WEDNESDAY WISDOM: The Spirit of a Wise One

     There are lots of things fifth graders learn. Bein's how my mom is a retired fifth grade teacher, I consider myself somewhat of an expert on the subject. And for the record, I did learn in 5th grade that "bein's how" is not exactly good English, but I also learned to write from the heart, as if I was having a conversation with someone. So there you have it.
     Fifth graders learn about American history, often for the first time in an academic setting. They also learn how to apply their math skills to figuring out basic geometric shapes. Creative writing is introduced for the first time to many fifth graders. They learn about citizenship, the scientific method of solving problems, and the branches of the government.
     For a fifth grader, the world is a huge round ball of opportunity and possibility. Fifth graders are ridiculously honest, extraordinarily compassionate, and infinitely curious. And I think fifth graders, for the first time in their lives, really want to understand more about God.
     In most cases, they've been hearing about God ever since they can remember. They've recited prayers, sat as still as possible for as long as possible in church, and have tried hard to make Christmas as much about the Baby Jesus as they can, despite the distraction of Santa Claus- whom their continued belief in is hanging by a stocking thread.
     It's been many years ago, but I think the above descriptions are fairly accurate in describing me as a fifth grader. I had a wonderful teacher at school who taught me all the aforementioned things and who encouraged me to shoot for the stars, so to speak. She went on to her heavenly reward several years ago.
     But another one of my teachers from that year is alive and well. When I returned to my hometown to attend the Christmas Eve church service a few weeks ago, I made a beeline over to her pew to give her a hug. She was my fifth grade Sunday School teacher and I will forever love and appreciate her.
     I'm sure my squirmy rear end struggled to remain in its assigned spot in the little wooden chair in her class. I suspect her patience was tested by the energy we boys exerted each and every Sunday morning as the girls sat quietly, wondering why boys always seemed to have ants in our pants. I can't remember us being disrespectful but I can imagine my teacher deserved a good Sunday afternoon nap after surviving her appointed hour with us each week.
     My teacher told us one Sunday that she had dropped out of school when she was in the 8th grade to get married. I later learned in Sociology class in college that teenage marriages hardly ever survive. But apparently nobody ever told Miss Sarah because she remained devoted and faithful to her husband until he died a couple years ago.
     Miss Sarah taught me many things about the Lord. I can't recall them all specifically, but I can remember as if it were yesterday the day we were all confused and at the same time curious about the Holy Spirit. Some of us were a little spooked because of our fear of ghosts. Others wore question marks on our faces because we had been told you can't see or touch the Holy Spirit. "So how do you know it's there," we inquired. Miss Sarah explained the Holy Spirit to the gathering of fifth graders that day in such a way that I still remember it to this day.
     "No, you can't see it with your eyes," she began. "And you can't hear it with your ears. But you can feel its presence. It's like if I was to open the window and a breeze came in. You can't see or hear it, but you know it's there. It flows throughout your body and you feel it on the inside. You can tell when it has taken over a room because it produces a strong feeling of warmth and love that can't be described in words."
     On that day in that Sunday School room when I was eleven years old, I believe a miracle occurred. Not the kind where God reveals Himself in the form of a shadow on the side of a building or a dying person is miraculously healed, but the kind where for the first time in a child's life, he understands and feels the presence of the Holy Spirit. How could I not feel it, I was looking into the eyes of Miss Sarah, and the Holy Spirit was definitely revealing itself in her smile. I decided that day I would no longer fear the ghost- the one they referred to as the Holy Spirit in Big Church a few steps away from our Sunday school class. I smiled because I finally got it. I smiled because I knew God loved me and so did Miss Sarah.
     Jesus reminds the disciples in Acts 1:8 that "you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you." There are lots of people in the world who have authority, but none are more powerful than a Spirit-filled Christian who seeks the Lord with an open heart.
     A few years later when I was an eighth grader, the Holy Spirit broke out around a campfire on one of our youth retreats. Eventually every teary-eyed teenager there made some level of commitment to living their lives for the Lord. One of the strongest testimonies that led us to our knees that night came from, you guessed it, Miss Sarah. She didn't have a Doctorate or a Master's degree- but she was then and is now one of the wisest people I have ever met.
     I hugged Miss Sarah tightly when I saw her on Christmas Eve. I told her I loved her and appreciated all she taught me. She asked me to pray for her as it has been hard being without her husband for the past two years. I will pray for you, Miss Sarah. Your smile, your love, your spirit and your willingness to share it may not have changed the world. But it changed the life of at least one squirmy little fifth grader.