We sat in two uncomfortable folding chairs across from the pastor and the Christian school principal. I glanced over at Chris, my hand gripping his nervously. We had just been married a few weeks before, and I was there interviewing to be a teacher in the elementary school for the upcoming school year. My anxiety stemmed from not knowing what to expect from these people I barely knew. I was new to the state, new to the church, and new to my husband’s family.
I disliked not knowing what people expected of me. I wanted it all laid out in black and white. I wanted to know exactly what I could and could not do. And here, waiting to hear their decision, I was not going to be comfortable until I was able to see the do’s and don’ts clearly. The pastor cleared his throat. “It certainly seems you are over-qualified for this job, but we would love to have you on staff this year. We need a fifth-grade teacher, and you seem just the right match for the job.” Chris high-fived me under the table to show me his excitement that I had finally found a teaching job. I was excited, too, but I had so many questions. Before I could find my voice to ask the first one, the principal slid a thick paper-back book across the table. “Here’s the guide book for the staff,” he informed me. “It’s got all the rules and regulations that teachers need to follow, at school and around town. Remember that whatever you are doing or wearing in public reflects on the school now.” I flinched a little at that but received the book gladly. Aha! Now I knew what was expected of me. No more guessing, no more agonizing whether I was doing the “right thing” or not. I just had to follow the book.
I was a rules girl through and through. I believed in rules. I liked the solid, steady boundaries that they set. The rules helped me to be a better Christian. I believed that with all my heart. After all, didn’t God set down the most famous rules of all on Mount Sinai? Surely, the Ten Commandments were enough evidence of the importance of rules and laws.
Not to mention, I was more than familiar with rules. Lots of them. I had attended a Christian school growing up where I had to dress a certain way, act a certain way, have friendships in a certain way, and basically live my life in that certain way, directed by my parents and the heavy-handed school. I went from there to a fundamental Baptist college, where the rules just increased and became even more detailed. Don’t go off campus with a member of the opposite sex. Your skirts must come to the top of your knee, whether sitting, kneeling, or standing. Don’t listen to music that isn’t approved by the institution. Don’t talk or fellowship in church. There were a whole lot of don’ts, but the do’s were just as prevalent. Do Christian service every weekend – it makes you more spiritual. Do read your Bible every morning – and make sure you’re sitting in a place where multiple people can see your act of holiness. Do enforce the rules and turn in anyone who isn’t following the rules. Do date – you want to marry a good Christian guy, after all! Do attend every class, even if you’re sick.
At first, I handled the college thing like a pro. I had done this rule thing my whole life – it was easy. I just squelched the voice deep inside that was protesting the absurdity and legalism and followed that rule book to the letter. Then, close to the end of my junior year, something happened that shook my sense of spiritual well-being and awakened feelings and thoughts that I had been pushing down all those years. I got in trouble for possessing some illegal music (the soundtrack to Dirty Dancing). The deans took action by kicking me out of my room and putting me in another room where some stellar, rule-abiding roommates could keep an eye on me for the last two weeks of the semester. I was humiliated and angry – but not at the school. No, I was angry with myself for slipping up, for not being committed to the rules one hundred percent. My senior year consisted of me doggedly trying to obey the rules while completing an intense teaching internship and a heavy load of classes required before graduation. I worried every day that I might mess up and ruin my chances of graduating. College was no longer fun – I just wanted to get through that year in one piece. The “real world” would be much easier and much better, I thought.
It wasn’t. I secured a teaching job at a small Christian school on the East Coast. I was in charge of an eighth grade class of fourteen boys and seven girls. I felt liberated there because the women teachers could wear pants outside the classroom and because we sang some contemporary Christian music in church. Those rules, though, reared their ugly head again and dominated my life. I equated my spiritual life with how well I was following the rules. There wasn’t any rule I could find about reading my Bible all the time; so that practice quickly fell by the wayside. I told my students God loved them, and in the same breath, I chastised the ones who had failed to follow the many, many laws of the guide book. I clearly remember one afternoon in junior high detention. I was supervising four boys who were scrubbing the floors as penalty for a variety of offenses – not doing homework, talking back to the teacher, violating dress code, etc. I overheard one of the boys mutter under his breath, “Where’s that grace you’re always talking about in Bible class?” I quickly admonished him for speaking disrespectfully to a teacher, but inwardly my soul was cut to the core. Where, indeed, was the grace? It felt like we were setting ourselves up for dismal failure each time we increased the number and the intensity of the rules.
I was exhausted from trying to follow all the rules and from trying to keep up on the nuances of each of them. I desperately longed for freedom from these rigid life guidelines, but I was afraid to leave their familiar, solid comfort. That is why I sat there that day in the pastor’s office and once again embraced the solace of the law. I didn’t know then that it would be eight long years bringing me to emotional and spiritual exhaustion before I would finally consider the grace of God and dare to leave the security of the rules.
To be continued…
dandelion bouquets 