Pity the family of a teacher. Every chore is described in meticulous detail enhanced by visual aids followed by a series of questions and topped off with a grade. How many husbands will admit at work they received a C minus in bed making? I can’t recall the number of times my children cried in frustration, “Mom, just tell us and skip the discovery demonstration.”
As hard as it is on the family, it’s ten times harder on the teacher. Take me for example. I never just jump in on a project without creating a lesson plan on my mental chalkboard. I can’t enjoy an event without evaluating whether I’ve met the perceived objectives. But worse of all, I grade myself on every task.
At the end of each day, I give myself a report card. I don’t grade on the curve. I expect perfection; the grades reflect this standard. Most days are C days. Hard as I try to be above average, I fail. Every morning, I set my goal for an A plus day, every night I am deflated.
But that all changed on Monday when God erased my chalkboard and began to write. I was sitting in Bible study and listening to a discussion from the book of Job.
I tuned out the class and zeroed in on the Master Teacher. He wrote two words: Pass—Fail.
Job’s test was Pass-Fail. Failure was cursing God. (Job 1:11; 2:5; 2:9) Passing was not cursing God and dying. Job ran the gamut of emotions. He whined and complained. He questioned and doubted. He pouted and pitied himself. There were highlights of praise and worship but mostly there was human fragility and self-centeredness.
In the end, Job had a face-to-face at the Teacher’s desk. God revealed Himself in all His Majesty and Job collapsed. I’m certain he expected an F minus to be stamped on his report card of heaven. That’s what I would have given him (and myself).
But instead the grade, Passed, is stamped on his forehead and heart. He passed. He didn’t curse God. It was that simple, he didn’t curse God and die. Therefore, passing came with great blessings.
I passed the test that day, the next, last night and I will tonight, tomorrow, and forever. As a child of God, I cannot curse the God who died for me. By the power of the Spirit that dwells within me, I will pass the test.