To My Brilliant Students

In honor of some of the most brilliant minds that I have the privilege of shaping for the good of humanity for the next generation, I would like to list some of the things both heard and written in my classroom this school year so far:

"For me Hawan was very difficult to handle because 1 second he upsets me then the next minute he apologizes, so Hawans behavior was very much like an Ethiopian weather." - P, one of my Ethiopian students, 8th grade, written in a journal entry

"Mr. Musser! I know a shortcut! But....it'll take a little longer than the normal way." - O, another of my 8th grade students, spoken to me while on a class outing at the mall

"I miss thy hug that was warmer than a fire pot." - HJ, one of my Korean ELL (English Language Learners) students, 11th grade, in a poem where they were supposed to practice using similies and metaphors

"And I will be waiting for you until the sunlight turns to moonshine." - HJ, again, in the same poem

"All of a sudden he heard stomping noses!" - Z, 7th grade, in a short story, attempting to say "stomping noises"

"But the decision was final: we were moving to Turkey; I had no choice but to adopt." - P, again, trying to say that he had no choice but to "adapt"

"Why do I have to be Justin Bieber?!? Why can't P be Justin Bieber??" - EJ, my blond-headed Dutch student with a bowl cut, overheard by me while he was working in a group with P, my Ethiopian student, and KE, a Korean girl, to come up with a skit for the class

"Elves don't do DRUGS!" - E, 7th grade, shouted out in the middle of class when another student was reading his short story out loud about an elf who was plotting to assassinate his king by slipping a lethal "drug" into his wine

"Her situation was severe - she had a bad Bruce on her spine which was so painful to her." - S, one of my Turkish 11th grade ELLs, in her short story about a girl who has a diving accident; she was trying to say that the girl had a bad "bruise" on her spine

"I liked how the book ends with this uncertainty which could mean a squeal." - D, 11th grade, referring to a possible "sequel"

"Yes, I believe it is important how you loook because if you have a job and you visit a customer with only your underwear, he's not going to trust you." B, 7th grade, in a journal entry responding to the prompt: Should people care about what they look like?

"In 20 years I will be 33 and I will probably be an adult... Even though I think that Jesus will probably come before I'm 33, but still, living long can be a good thing, right?" - DL, 7th grade, Korean ELL student

Student M: "Mr. Musser! Sometimes A puts her head close to mine and then she burps in my ear!"
Me (to Student A): "Eww, that's gross! Why would you do that??"
Student A (quite innocently): "It's my personality!"


I hope you enjoyed it! ;-)

Turkish.....not-so-Delight

This weekend I had a Turkish adventure.

It's been approximately 2 months since I moved here this summer, and I had recently decided that it was time for a haircut, lest I eventually break the school's no-hair-covering-the-ears dress code policy. Now, I HAVE had one haircut in Turkey before at a local Turkish salon when I was here last spring, but at that time I had an interpreter to help me through the process.

When my roommate mentioned offhandedly last week that he was also wanting a haircut, I decided that it was time to go. Because of the fact that neither one of us really speaks much Turkish, we asked around for a Turkish speaker to accompany us, but no one was available (whom we trusted, at least) over the weekend. So finally, on Saturday afternoon, I just thought, "Whatever. I can figure this out." (an MK's famous last words) and headed for the salon. On my way my roommate called me and asked me what I was up to, and when he found out I was going to get my hair cut, he asked if he could join me. I explained that I didn't have a translator and I was planning on winging it. Knowing that if he didn't join me in winging it, he would be left to wing it on his own later, he readily agreed to join me at his own risk.

Before we went into the shop, we huddled up and I told him the game plan: we would go into the shop, sit down, point to our heads and say, "Bir santimetre burda," which roughly translates to, "1 centimeter here." It had taken me the whole walk to the shop to put together a comprehensible phrase in Turkish with my VERY limited vocabulary to get my message across, and so needless to say, by the time we stepped in the shop, I was practically brimming with pride at my own brilliance. I was well aware that the sentence was primitive at best, but it seemed foolproof, and that's all I cared about.

My roommate was the first in line, and so when a chair opened up, he sat down and followed my instructions. I was so proud of him. The barber nodded his head (with a grin) and confirmed, "Bir?" ("One?"), to which we unanimously replied, "Evet, bir." ("Yes, one."). The barber nodded again, and turned to attach the appropriate clip to the buzzer. Then, just like that, he turned back around and shaved the top of my roommate's head bald. And we're talking BALD, bald. Nowhere NEAR 1 centimeter.

By the time I was able to pick up my jaw off the floor, a new chair had opened up, and it was my turn. Frantically, I scrambled for a Plan B. The barber was now looking at me with a big question written across his face. Panicking, I tried Plan A, but when his response was simply to cock his head sideways like a parakeet, I knew I had to try something else - fast. Spinning around, I saw the 12 year old-ish boy they had working at the shop sweeping, etc., and noticed that his hair was about the length I wanted. Pointing at him excitedly and looking up at the barber with the buzzer poised above my head, I did my best to make him understand that I wanted my hair to look like the boy's. His gaze swung to follow my finger, and when he saw the boy, he almost doubled over laughing.

I was confused.

He proceeded to rattle off something to his fellow barbers, and when they had all had a good laugh, and he noticed my still confused face, he smiled and pointed at the boy and said something else in Turkish. Hearing him, the boy grinned shyly and turned around revealing the back of his head and probably the most hideous looking mullet that I've ever seen on a 12 year old boy in my life. I didn't need to understand what the still very amused barber tried to ask me next; my answer was an emphatic "Hayir, HAYIR!!" ("No, NO!"). This only produced another hearty laugh from him before he nodded that he understood and began trimming.

Although I still didn't get quite what I was looking for, my trim was a lot closer to what I wanted than my poor roommate. (On a side note, I DID think it would be somewhat humorous if we had both walked in to school with new haircuts on Monday morning to show off to our students - the Bible teacher as a skinhead and the English teacher as an 80's rock star). As for him, he has taken it all in stride like a champ.....although I am not expecting to have another haircutting buddy again when I go back for round 2 in two more months. :-)

Great is His Faithfulness!

Yesterday I finished my first week of full-time teaching. "Exhausting" is the main word that I can think of to describe the week, but even still, He has given me supernatural strength and abundant joy as I have needed it. And I am so thankful. School only started on Wednesday, but all week long I put in roughly 12 hours a day AT SCHOOL and then another 2-3 hours of work at home again after dinner. I am teaching 5 different preps (classes), grades 7-11, in two different languages, with about 70 students in total representing some 20-30 different nationalities. I have 3-5 students in almost every class who only speak a half a dozen phrases in English and about the same number who could skip a grade or two and still excel. Combine all that with the fact that our water got shut off for a few days in the mix and that it's been around 100 degrees every day for the past few weeks, and you can probably see how it hasn't been the easiest week.

But all the busyness has caused me to fall hard on the One who does not grow tired or weary and whose right hand is never too weak. Yesterday as I was walking home from school around 8pm (on a Friday night), I just felt drained and overwhelmed with how much more work I still have waiting for me this weekend, so I started to pray. And as I prayed, I was just inexplicably overwhelmed with thanksgiving. I was reminded that this is what I came here for. I came here looking for a desert - to be stretched, to feel weak and inadequate, to be humbled - so that I would be forced every day to look outside of myself and my circumstances for my strength. Because I know that when I am doing that, I will live through Him and He will live through me, and that is the building blocks of the Kingdom.

And that is what we want to see here - the Kingdom. Invading. Expanding. Prevailing. My prayer for Ankara is for the Miracle of Nineveh - for the Spirit of the Father to pour down on this broken place because of the obedient witness of a few cracked, clay jars.

He can do it. And so much more.

My Two Bible Heroes

I have been so encouraged after reading out of Luke 2 this morning. It's hard for me to read about the Christmas story because it's a story that I'm so familiar with that I usually find myself skimming through the chapter to get to "the good stuff" after it - you know....the stuff about Jesus.

But this morning I forced myself to slow down and I am so glad that I did. I think this is the first time that I've ever read through this story and actually paused after each thought and tried to visualize the characters and put myself in their positions, behind their eyes, and in their heads. And these people came to life for the first time ever for me.

As a result of my careful reading this morning, I've developed a whole new level of respect for Mary and Joseph as people, but what compelled me to journal today was not what I discovered about Mary and Joseph, but what I discovered about Simeon and Anna. They are my heroes. In fact, after today, I think that of all the people mentioned in the Bible, they could be my favorites.

Simeon is described as "a righteous man" who was "filled with the Holy Spirit" and who "eagerly expected the Messiah to come and rescue Israel." Wow....what a way to be remembered.. I would ask that someone write a note for me that this is what I want recorded on my grave one day: "He was a righteous man who was filled with the Holy Spirit who eagerly expected the Messiah to come and take away His Bride," but already it is not true of me because a man who is eagerly expecting the Messiah to come never thinks about his grave. But I pray to God that He would make me like that.

But it gets better - Luke says that one day the Spirit led Simeon to the Temple; this is the verse that smoked me:

"...so when Mary and Joseph came to present the baby Jesus to the Lord as the law required, Simeon was there."

That's what verse 28 says: "Simeon was there."

Waiting. Expecting. Eagerly.

He was already there. He wasn't about to miss it. The groom appeared like a thief in the night - as an 8 day old baby among thousands of people in the Temple that day - but Simeon was there waiting and his lantern was filled with oil and he wasn't about to be left behind.

That's the Kingdom. Wow.

But it still gets better. Because then Anna walks into the room. Except that I picture her running into the room - well, at least as fast as an 84 year old woman can run. And she has the biggest smile on her face that anyone has ever seen, and like an excited grandma arriving at the hospital to see her first grandson ever, she's hobbling as fast as she can down the hall looking in every room she passes, absolutely elated and continually repeating, "Where is he?? Where is he?? Where's my grandson??"

Expecting. Eagerly. Ready.

I can't read her story without crying:

"Anna, a prophet, was also there in the Temple. ...She was a widow, for her husband had died when they had been married only 7 years. She was now 84 years old. She never left the Temple, but stayed there day and night, worshiping God with fasting and prayer. She came along just as Simeon was talking with Mary and Joseph, and she began praising God."

But the next part is my favorite of all:

"She talked about Jesus to everyone."

Can you see it? Close your eyes and picture it. Picture her hobbling into that room, out of breath, desperately scanning the crowd for the One she knows is there - so hopeful - yet afraid she's already missed it - and then she sees the baby.....and she knows. She just knows. Her lantern is filled with oil and she knows. Her heart jumps into her throat and her stomach twists and she knows. Picture that woman's face. Her eyes. Her hands covering her mouth. Tears. Picture her walking over, ignoring Simeon in the middle of his blessing. She and that baby are the only two in the room. And then she gets to that spot and she sees Mary for the first time and her eyes are full of tears and all she can do is look into her face and hold out her hands to ask for the baby. Mary looks to her husband and then Simeon and then back to the woman, but then she understands....and she slowly hands over her son.

Picture Anna taking that 8 day old baby and looking into his face. And she knows. She has been waiting for 80 years - how could she not know what His face would look like?

And just like that, she looks up and grabs the shoulder of the nearest person she can find and spins him around and says, "Look! This is the One - this is Emmanuel." And then she moves on to the next person. And the next. And the next. This is Emmanuel. She doesn't care what people think; she simply can't contain her joy. I couldn't help but think after reading this that I am totally content with where I am right now, but that if I should ever think about marrying someone one day, I hope I don't even consider it unless she has a heart like Anna's.

Hebrews says that "All these faithful ones died without ever receiving what God had promised them..." But Simeon and Anna saw - one ordinary, hard-working, righteous man who lived expecting to see the Messiah every day, and one overlooked, lonely 84 year old widow who was far more in love and alive than anyone else in the world has ever been or ever will be.

How awesome is God?

And so I encourage you: Be ready. Be eagerly expectant. Don't let your lamps run out of oil.......don't risk missing the Groom. He is coming!

The World Cup from Madrid

So many people have been asking me what it was like to watch from downtown Madrid as Spain won the World Cup this year that I thought I would record my experience just for kicks (no pun was initially intended, but then I thought, "Ha! How clever! That would be a pretty corny pun; I'll leave it in there!").

I know this is a long post, but if you don't read anything else, read Chapter 1 and Chapter 5!

CHAPTER 1 - THE PRE-GAME WARMUP

The game here didn't start until 8:30pm, but my journey into Madrid began at 4, mostly because I knew that everyone and their moms would be there and the public transportation would be very crowded and unpleasant if I waited much longer. I was headed into town with a friend, and our first sign that we were getting closer was when a group of about 10 guys (mid 20s) got on the train. None of them had shirts on, they were all quite drunk (already), and all of them were decked out in Spain paraphernalia. They burst into the train blowing vuvuzelas (which are nothing new here - they have been used at soccer games in Spain since as long as anyone can remember), waving flags, and chanting something akin to "DOWN WITH THE F#@$*ING DUTCH!"

They never once settled down for the rest of the 30 min ride into Madrid, and only stopped to take a breath to pour and drink a round of whiskey every few minutes. At every stop more joined their number. When the train conductor came over the loudspeaker and said, "We remind you that the consumption of alcohol is prohibited on Madrid train transportation," they ERUPTED into cheers and vuvuzela screams and banged on the windows and ceiling and floor and jumped on all the chairs and waved their flags and poured another round of drinks.

CHAPTER 2 - PICKING A PRIME SPOT

We finally made it into Madrid, hopped on the subway (different from the train), and headed north. The big outdoor setup with the screens was in the middle of Madrid, and they were expecting 500,000 people to show up - basically twice the size of Grand Rapids for all you GR people reading this. We originally were going to join them there, but it was around 100 degrees (it doesn't get dark here until 10:30pm) and we would be packed shoulder to shoulder with people for 3 hours until the game started and then another 2 hours during the game, all the while standing and being unable to move. And plus, it's often hard to see the screens outside since it's light so late. So we decided to head a little farther north and go to a bar (a sports restaurant equivalent in the U.S.) where we knew there would be a good atmosphere, chairs, air conditioning, good TVs, and cold drinks.

CHAPTER 3 - THE GAME

Many people have commented that the 3rd and 4th place game was more entertaining to watch than the Spain Netherlands game. I agree and disagree. It's usually like that. The 3rd and 4th place teams can play relaxed and take risks since there's nothing really at stake, but the finalists usually play much more reserved in order to lower the risks of making big mistakes. HOWEVER, good soccer aside, I don't think anyone would argue that the Germany Uruguay game was WAAAY less intense than the Spain Netherlands game. Which, of course, made the game very entertaining, just in a different way. So, yes and no. As for me, my whole body was shaking during the game. I couldn't sit still. As another Spaniard said later, "We've suffered a lot this World Cup (with Spain's close games); I'm just glad that I can sleep tonight." It was one of the most thrilling games I've ever watched despite the at-times-lacking quality of play. I don't know how anyone could watch that game and then say that soccer is boring - whether you cared about either of the teams or not.

CHAPTER 4 - THE GOAL

Spain erupted - for 6 minutes straight, until the game ended. People went streaking. Fireworks went off. Lots of people cried. Even though I was about 2 miles from the downtown area with the screens, I could hear the crowds from there yelling - for you GR people, it was about like being at Cornerstone and hearing people yell from Calvin.

CHAPTER 5 - THE AFTER PARTY (THE BEST PART)

I got back on the train to head back to my town without much incident. While I was waiting for the train, though, the boarding area around me was packed with crazy, chanting fans (it was the last train out of Madrid - at midnight). At one point a security guard tried to get people to back away from the tracks as the train neared, but someone yelled, "WE'RE THE CHAMPIONS OF THE WORLD - LEAVE US ALONE!!!" To which everyone cheered and ignored the guy. He just quietly backed away.

When I got on the train, I discovered, to my amused surprise, that I had gotten back on the same car with the same guys as before the game - along with another 100 people or so. There was standing room only. The chanting and vuvuzelas were nonstop and it was all amplified now that we were in an enclosed space. For some reason the air conditioning had been turned off, so felt like a million degrees in there with all those people. People were complaining at first until someone yelled, "WHO WANTS WATER!???!" Everyone erupted into cheers again and people started taking out their water bottles and flinging water all over the car! I thought that was crazy enough until someone else yelled, "AND NOW WITH THE BEER!!!" And so then water and beer was being flung all over everyone.

At least half of the people in the car were smoking as well, all within the vicinity of 4 NO SMOKING signs. The funny thing was, when a old wino got on the train at one stop and needed a place to sit, one crazy 20s something decked-out fan got up to give him his seat and said, "Here, sit down! We're the champions of the world!" The guy sat down, but then pulled out a bong and tried to light up some weed. Everyone got all quiet around the guy when they saw and then someone politely tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Hey dude, sorry, but you can't do that here. That's illegal. You're not allowed to do that. If you're going to do that, you're going to have to get off the train." The old guy looked up and said, "Well, can I just smoke then?" And the Spaniard answered, "Oh, yeah, sure! Smoking's totally cool! Just don't do any of that stuff." And with that the wino pulled out a cigarette and the partying resumed.

Well, by this time there was 1/8 inch of water and beer covering the floor, not to mention dripping from the ceiling and windows. AND it was a million degrees in there. So now it was hot AND sweaty AND humid. Drunk people are not the brightest. So people were complaining even more (between chants, of course), until one drunk guy started his own chant, "WE'RE ON A SAUNA TRAIN!! THAT'S F#@&$ING AWESOME!!!" And the people took up the chant with great enthusiasm. Which was nice....because I'd much rather be in a hot, sweaty, crowded, smoky, humid train car with 100 happy drunk people than in a hot, sweaty, crowded, smoky, humid train car with 100 angry drunk people.

I finally arrived at my stop, got a ride home, took a shower, and watched the after-party still happening in Madrid on TV for the next hour until I went to bed.

It was still going on when I turned on the TV the next morning.

THE END

Home

It feels so good to be home. It's been 2 and a half years since I was last here in Spain, and I am so grateful to be back. I was just sitting on the couch at my family's house this morning thanking God for allowing me to be back and to be refreshed in this way. I'm home alone for a few days until my parents and sister get back from visiting my aunt and uncle in France, but even just being inside the house itself feels so good. When I stepped through the front door yesterday (after spending a half hour looking under all the flower pots in the front yard to find the keys) it was like a load fell off my shoulders and I could finally relax.

Even though I saw my family just last spring, I've spent the last 4 years living in dorms, grandparent's houses, friend's houses, and an apartment with roommates. And even though all of those places were "home" to some extent for a long time, they weren't "home, home". And even though that seems obvious, it didn't really hit me until this morning.

After realizing that, I couldn't help but wonder what it's going to be like to "walk in the front door" of New Jerusalem.

And we won't even have to look for the keys under the flowerpots outside. ;-)

How amazing is that day going to be? That's something that I don't think the church talks about enough anymore. How often do we encourage each other (like Paul did) with the promises of heaven? When was the last time that you heard your pastor talk about how great that day is going to be? When was the last time that you pictured it in your mind? Colossians 3:2 says to "let heaven fill your thoughts."

I think that sometimes we don't do that because we don't know what it's going to be like. But we know what coming home feels like. And I find that whenever I think about that and how great it's going to be to be able to finally drop my baggage at the door for good and walk inside without worrying about having to leave, and when I see Dad look up and drop what He's doing to come running over and give me a hug and tell everyone, "My son is home!", I can't help but get teary eyed.

That's what waits for us. Be encouraged. Encourage others. Let that thought give you joy as you go back to work, as you sit in class, as you mow the lawn, as you help your neighbor move, as you worry about your budget next month... Keep life in perspective. One day we'll be home. :-)

God hates straight lines.

"If you are truly seeking the will of God, there is no decision that you can make that will 'screw up' God's plan for your life."

Thoughts?

Maybe it's just because I'm at the point in life when many of my friends are graduating and trying to figure out what's next, but it seems that lately I've had about 4 or 5 conversations with good friends of mine about discerning what God's plan is for their lives. It's a hard subject, and one that I think all believers are faced with at some point in their lives. I was just there a few months ago. We are all familiar with crossroads. But I think that over the last few months I've been given an understanding of or perspective on the central question that I never had before.

So many believers honestly struggle and wrestle with what God wants them to do, afraid that they will make a wrong choice if they do not "discern" His will correctly. And let me just say that I think that it's good to wrestle with God; I think that true faith demands that we wrestle with God at certain points in our lives, and I think that God loves it when we do - but sometimes I wonder if Satan rejoices when God's people just keep wrestling and wrestling and wrestling and never actually get beyond that.

How often do our puny excuses get in the way of our action for the Kingdom? How often do we put things off "until God opens a door"? Don't we hear that so often as Christians? But doesn't it seem more true that the way of Jesus is most often through closed doors than open ones? What if the body of Christ were a people who were characterized by first moving into action until God closed a door instead of waiting for Him to open one? What would the world look like? What if we were a people who were characterized as fearing missing opportunities more than we do failure? And what if we were a people who truly believed that the Almighty God we serve cannot - will not - be derailed from achieving His original good and perfect plan because of a few of our human mistakes? Are we really that arrogant?

The way that I see it now, God has established His Kingdom on earth, and we, His church, have been given the task of working to expand that Kingdom. So have we not already each been called? He has already told us what He wants us to be about - loving God, loving our neighbors, preaching the Good News, and discipling our brothers and sisters.

But the rest He has left up to us!

Did Jesus tell His 72 disciples specifically where to go when He sent them out in Matthew 10? Did he tell them that they all had to serve in the same way when he sent the 12 out in Matthew 24? Look how much freedom He gave them! His intention was to open up the world to them so that they would go quickly so that they wouldn't have to spend time wrestling with figuring out the hows and whens and whats.

See, we've grown up being taught that the shortest distance from point A to point B is a straight line. And any slight deviation from that line demands recalculation, adjustment, and is therefore inefficient. Lost time. Wasted effort. But the problem with straight lines is that it always takes us a half an hour to find a ruler.

I think that so often we see point A (Me) and point B (Where God wants me tomorrow/next month/next fall), and it seems most obvious to us that God would want us to get there using a straight line.

But I don't think that God likes straight lines. God didn't lead Abraham in a straight line to reach the Promised Land. God didn't lead Jacob in a straight line to becoming a righteous man. God didn't lead the Israelites in a straight line to reach Canaan. Jesus didn't move in a straight line to the cross. And Paul didn't move in a straight line to preaching to the Gentiles.

It seems to me that God is all about the 180 degree turns. He's not interested in point B. He's interested in YOU. And he's interested in the 1 lost sheep.

Does God want you to serve overseas? Does God want you to marry that girl? Does He want you to go to that school? Write Christian music or wash dishes in an orphanage? Teach or be taught? Go or stay?

I think that God wants you to use your gifts to feed His sheep.

All that you have to worry about is finding hungry sheep....and feeding them.

We make things far too complicated.