A Favorite Teacher

The kids loved him. He was one of those “favorite” teachers; not because he was easy or lavished praise, but because they could tell he genuinely cared. He was tough, but not critical; demanding, but not autocratic. He smiled easily and often, encouraged students outside the classroom, and took an interest in their lives without ever crossing boundaries.

How shocking it was, then, when one Sunday morning he got up in front of the entire congregation, with the pastor’s approval, and told them that he had a brain tumor and would have surgery. He didn’t cry or moan, just asked people to pray for him, for his doctors, for his wife and his children. He didn’t ask for miracles, just support. With everyone watching, he was anointed and prayed over.

What made it so extraordinary is that many people, when faced with such a life-changing diagnosis, retreat into a cocoon, shying away from telling others. They don’t want to be pitied or cried over or shunned or thought of as weak. “When I’m better,” they say, “I’ll let everyone know.” But he forged ahead with a smile and a conviction that with God, all things are possible, teaching 600 people what trust can look like.

The surgery was a success, and he carried on with his teaching and his volunteering as though he had never had to face death. He continued to smile and encourage and laugh and pray. Former students greeted him with hugs and thanks years after graduation. He exuded a confidence that comes from intimately knowing God just as he had that Sunday morning.

I saw him recently. He was fresh off knee surgery and full of gratitude for his doctors and his loving wife. He offered praise to God for making so many good things possible in his life. He was quick to smile and reminisce about our shared experiences. Still a favorite after all these years.