"In those days, God taught me as a school teacher teaches a pupil" (St. Ignatius).

Really? How does that happen, exactly? The best I can figure is this: My immediate surroundings, the world, all of nature, every individual with whom I come into contact, every part of my body, the wealth of knowledge, wisdom and experience available in books, media and the Internet–all of this is my classroom. I open my eyes in the morning and behold God's classroom. Even my dreams the night before–God's classroom.

So it isn't a question of whether or when I'm in school. School's never out.

Is the Teacher present. Yes, or course. God stands ready to teach, always.

It's really me. Am I at this moment–at any moment–teachable?

Back to Ignatius: I suspect Ignatius, for whatever reason, suddenly awoke to the classroom and the presence of the Teacher, and, in the overwhelming, awe-inspiring wonder of that moment, surrendered to instruction, with both joy and humility.

"In those days, God taught me…"

God's laughing with delight!

Step into the classroom. No, look around and realize you've been in the classroom all along.

The bell rings. Let's begin.

Text and image © 2011 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.