“Give me a Revelation. Show me what to do.”

I’ve been singing Third Day’s “Revelationsince my friend Andrea and I saw (part of) them perform at Roswell Street this past Saturday.  “Give me a revelation, Show me what to do, ‘Cause I’ve been trying to find my way; I haven’t got a clue. Tell me should I stay here. Or do I need to Move. Give me a revelation; I’ve got nothing without you.”

This song should be on the playlist for our country.

In my own prayer time this morning asking God for a revelation, I was reminded of how I love Math. (Stay with me). And I have kind of a knack for it (Bookkeeper at my church) . I was then reminded of why I hated it when growing up. My dad would be the one to help me with math homework. He is super smart. Math is a natural bend for him. He grasps numbers quick. I didn’t always have such a quick understanding. And he wasn’t very patient. You can see where this is going.
Tears. Yelling.
Sometimes the answers in the back of the book would be wrong. And my dad would write a note for me to give to my teacher which listed out the Math problem. Page number, too, I’m sure. Showed the work. And gave the corrected answer along with some simple words about the book being wrong. Well, my favorite teacher was Mrs. Baker. She taught me 6th grade Math. So, when I would have to give her such said note, it was kinda embarrassing. (read “I was mortified.”)

So naturally, when I think of math today, the exact scenario is conjured up. Probably still some healing needed there :).

But my point is this: I could have taken that frustrating time and let it shape me. I could have steered away from Math and all things related to it. However, the truth is that God made me with a Math bend. I got that from my Dad. I didn’t realize my passion for Math until I got older…When I didn’t let the memory of the event scare me off. Geometry is fascinating to me. Now I understand how it relates to the game of pool. My favorite app is the calculator. Now, I’m not saying I am this hidden Math wizard. Algebra and statistics are a little less to be desired. I’m just saying that I could have let that painful memory keep me from doing something God created in my being that brought me joy. Was my dad trying to keep me from that joy? No! He loved Math. He wanted me to share that same love for it. But he is not a teacher. He didn’t understand how I didn’t understand. To him, how to work the problem and get the correct answer was so easy it was hard or him to understand why it wasn’t easy for me.

It helps me in relating to my daughter, who doesn’t get Math as easily as my son. I have to ask the Lord for that patience. A teacher’s heart. And not just in Math, but in Life. I don’t want to short change what God has placed in them by projecting my fears or frustrations onto them.

Food for thought.

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