
If you want to learn history, you should become a history teacher. Nothing requires a thorough understanding of a subject like having to teach it to malleable, inquisitive, talkative students whose parents are paying to learn from you. How's that for pressure?
Thankfully, this school year has been fruitful for me in many ways--I've witnessed small blessings in my classroom that encourage me on the "We'll never get through this material!" days. Reminders that the students aren't computers and that our goal is not to inculcate them with material to be regurtitated mechanically. In the classroom, we are doing the same thing we do with our little ones. We're either starving their souls, or we're nurturing them. Again, how's that for pressure?
Our most recent study has been in Animal Farm by George Orwell. A "fairy tale" (the subtitle originally given to the novel by Orwell himself) set on a farm with elitist pigs, ignorant sheep, vain horses, and a raven named "Moses," the story parallels the events of the Russian Revolution of 1917. The animals revolt against Mr. Jones, the owner of the farm, and begin what they hope to be a utopian existence without the evils of humanity to oppress them. The pigs, and eventually the sole pig in power (Napoleon), slowly take command and begin to manipulate the memories of the rest of the animals on the farm. Whereas one of the 7 Commandments of "Animalism" originally read, "No animals shall sleep in a bed," the words, "with sheets" are later added to justify the pigs' finding repose in Mr. Jones' bed. After a generation of deception and "spin," the animals blindly accept their oppressive fate as subjects of Napoleon because they forget their past--they forget why they revolted against man in the first place, they forget what the foundations of Animalism are, and in an ultimate twist of irony, they can't tell man and pig apart at the end of the story.
As we reflected on this phenomenon in class, we considered Karl Marx's poignant warning, "A people without a heritage are easily persuaded." He knew that better than most people, as his "persuasions" in the Communist Manifesto have been the battle cry of some of history's most tyrannical, bloodiest dictators.
Sadly, Christians have ignored this warning and have compromised in so many ways as members of the current culture.
We, whose God forbid murder and required monogamous, sexually pure relationships with members of the opposite sex, ought to speak the loudest against abortion and perversions of marriage (in whatever form).
We, who inherited the reformational movements of Jan Hus, Martin Luther, and John Calvin, ought to strive the most vigorously for the centrality of God in worship--not man centered, seeker-sensitive, emotionally driven worship.
We, whose God required us to teach the word of God to our children all the time (Deuteronomy 6:7), have surrendered them to the enemy and allowed a system hostile to what we believe as God-followers to train our children.
We, who follow a God that honors private property, individual responsibility, and charity by volition and as a recognition that God is the giver of all things, have believed the lie that the state ought to mandate, moderate, meddle, and steal for the sake of "taking care of its people."
In what other ways have we as Christians forgotten our heritage? And what will they persuade us to do next?
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