Notes from the back row

Remember when we used to sleep on the back row of Humanities class? I’m so sorry Dr. Sexton, we were total jerks. And now when we watch “The Tudors,” we wish we had stayed awake.

So I’m taking classes again, only this time I’m not taking a bologna sandwich wrapped in foil and writing “Juli loves So-and-So” all over my Trapper Keeper. Not that I did that in college . . . but I did eat Saga, which may have been worse.

No, these classes are about the Holy Spirit. The one I want to flow freely through my life, the one I want to keep me soft and repentant, the one I want to saturate me until my hearts is full.

The one that points out any sin in my heart, even the sin I have not yet committed, but that could take root and grow. The one that chastises and prunes me because He loves me.

The one that brings His Word to my remembrance. And the one who helps me forget what needs to be thrown in the sea of forgetfulness, and walk in forgiveness.

The Holy Spirit that teaches, comforts, enlightens, and guides me into all truth. Do you know Him? Because He wants to know you.

These classes are not dates and facts, they are not filmstrips and essays. They are not credits adding up to a diploma. They prick my heart, they drive me to the Word, they stimulate my brain and my spirit. And that, my friends, is a great combination.

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