Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles of any kind come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing. [James 1:2-4 (NLT)]
“May the Holy Spirit give us grace to not begrudge the pedagogy of God,” wrote John Piper in the day’s devotion. A somewhat archaic word and not one I regularly use, I thought of a pedagogue as an old, boring, stodgy, and authoritarian teacher who never changed his lesson plan or lectures. Unsure what Piper meant, it seemed wise to consult the dictionary. “Pedagogy” comes from two Greek words: pais, meaning child, and agogos, meaning leader. A paidagogos was a slave who led the boys to and from school, taught them manners, and tutored them after school.
Pedagogy eventually came to mean the method and practice of teaching—how knowledge and skills are taught and learned—and a pedagogue is a teacher or educator. While God is neither boring nor stodgy, He is older than time and an authoritarian (but loving) teacher with some unique, innovative, and often challenging teaching methods or pedagogy.
I don’t know about boys in ancient Greece, but I imagine they were like boys today: often less than enthusiastic about spending time in a classroom, learning their lessons, and being taught restraint, civility, and good behavior. Like schoolboys, we often are less than enthusiastic about learning the lessons God is teaching us, especially since His lessons rarely are as easy as learning the alphabet or simple arithmetic. Granted, He does provide us with a syllabus in Scripture so we have a general outline of His policies, expectations, and rules. Nevertheless, we don’t get an individual syllabus explaining our specific assignments, exam dates, projects, and deadlines. Some of God’s lessons seem bizarre or unreasonable while others are heartbreaking or near impossible; much of the time, we can’t see their purpose at the time. Like the teacher who gives pop quizzes, doesn’t allow make-up exams, and won’t accept late papers, it’s easy to begrudge the way God teaches us.
I’m reminded of a scene from the movie Peggy Sue Got Married in which the middle-aged Peggy Sue goes back in time to high school. When asked to solve a problem in algebra class, she responds, “I happen to know that, in the future, I will not have the slightest use for algebra, and I speak from experience.” Like Peggy Sue, once out of school, I had no need to know about coefficients, variables, constants, or exponents. Nevertheless, I didn’t know that when I took algebra more than sixty years ago; had I taken another career path, I might have needed that information!
We are finite beings and can only see what is right before us. God, however, is infinite and can see far into our future both here and in the hereafter. When He teaches us lessons about patience, humility, loss, conflict resolution, pain, worry, pride, fear, trust, obedience, persistence, and faith, we rarely know for what purpose we’re in His schoolroom or when we’re going to need the skill we’re being taught. God’s pedagogy only makes sense when we look back in time. It is then that we realize the benefit we’ve gained from His extraordinary and often bizarre teaching methods. Indeed, as John Piper said, “May the Holy Spirit give us grace to not begrudge the pedagogy of God.”
I never had a trial I wanted to have, but I never had trial I wasn’t glad I had. [Jack Hyles]
Life is a succession of lessons which must be lived to be understood. [Helen Keller]
Devotions of the Heart 