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Sister
SCHOOLS
by April Sork
(Cont. from cover)
up and conceited. She thinks she is so much better than us.” “Oh, I see,” said Father. Another took a turn as tears ran down Sister’s face. “All the boys look at her because she flirts with them.” “It’s the way she dresses” said another. “She’s simply too alluring with her hair being so blond. I think she dyes it.” Another stood. “She thinks she’s so smart because teacher hangs up her work all the time. And when her story got published, Teacher made a big deal about it and made us all read it!” Seeing the problem clearly now, Father quickly sought to end the ridiculous trial. Mother wanted to throw them all out. Before closing with another prayer, Father stopped and looked directly at me. “What do you have to say about all this?” My eyes caught hers and I was shocked at my own reaction. I understood all too well the feelings of inferiority, and insecurity that her perfectly perfect presence brought to the surface. I began to answer. “Well, I can understand how they feel…” Her eyes caught mine and I was so ashamed. The sadness had grown exponentially now and covered her entire face. I wonder if it has ever really gone away. Suddenly, I remembered the time she taught me how to count change and helped me learn my spelling words. I thought of the secrets we shared and the inside jokes that only we laughed at. Love triumphed over envy and I finished with a rigorous defense. As the haters and their embarrassed parents went home, I took a long look at Sister. I contemplated those golden curls and her pale blue dress with flowers that seemed to dance all the way to the ground. Keenly aware that her beauty and brain far surpassed my own, I was strangely proud instead of bitter. I whiped the stringy brown hair from my eyes and decided to investigate and see just what gifts and talents God had graciously given me. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy … 1 Corinthians 13:4
At that time, Newsweek quotes Stewart as saying he couldn’t see how “’an official religion’ is established by letting those who want to say a prayer to say it. Citing several examples of U.S. institutions that invoke prayer (including the Supreme Court itself, which opens with the words, ‘God save the United States and this honorable Court’), the Ohio jurist summed up his attitude with a line from a ten year old Court decision [Zorach v. Clauson]: ‘We are a religious people whose institutions presuppose a Supreme Being.’” My late pastor, Dr. D. James Kennedy, once told me this (in the mid-1990s), on the subject of school prayer: “I am very definitely in favor of school prayer. I favor a voluntary, student led prayer. I believe the Jew should have the right to pray to God in his way, the Muslim to Allah, and the Christian to Jesus Christ. I think there’s a definite need for us to develop a little tolerance in this country about religion and not feel we have to throw a tantrum every time somebody prays in a way that we don’t particularly approve or like. Tolerance is supposedly this great
ideal that is so important. Our culture is always blasting people who are intolerant, but when it comes to religion, then intolerance seems to be the thing to have.” Certainly, voluntary prayer, even at school, should fall under the first amendment protection---as part of the “free exercise” of religion clause. Our schools today don’t have a prayer, yet the Bible tells us that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. To me, this is like a baseball player who supposedly hits a home run but is called out because when he ran around the bases, he did not in fact touch first base. As long as our schools don’t have a prayer, I suppose some of them need to have a sign installed out in front: Enter at your own risk. Jerry Newcombe is host of and spokesman for Truth that Transforms with D. James Kennedy (formerly The Coral Ridge Hour). He has also written or co-written 23 books, including The Book That Made America: How the Bible Formed Our Nation and Answers from the Founding Fathers. Jerry co-wrote (with Dr. Peter Lillback) the bestselling, George Washington’s Sacred Fire. He hosts the website www.jerrynewcombe. com.
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The haters, disguised as friends, were there in abundance. Their whispered rumors echoed through the halls of our small country school. The distain was intensified by the fact that her intelligence surpassed her striking beauty. She wrote stories that Teacher hung on the wall, won every spelling bee and could conquer mathematical equations with ease. Still, there was a kind of sadness behind her sea green eyes. Mother often had her assist me with my homework as I couldn’t quite get it no matter how hard I tried. She patiently helped me as I stared at her long blond curls. She never meant to make me feel stupid, but I did. Science fair time rolled around and she won the blue ribbon of course. Mom and Dad never saw the project as the latest accolade infuriated the haters so they ripped it to shreds along with the blue ribbon. Consumed by jealousy, they begrudged the talents and gifts God had obviously bestowed upon her instead of nurturing the ones He had no doubt given them. How miserable the trap of comparison. The sadness behind her eyes grew deeper one day as the parents of the haters called for a meeting with Mom and Dad to discuss recent events at school. Along with the science project, some of Sister’s assignments had gone missing and vulgar graffiti regarding her had been prominently plastered all over the walls of the girl’s bathroom and up and down the stucco walls. Teacher had finally had enough and the haters were strictly disciplined. This only made matters worse as the parents of the haters assumed that Sister must have done something to deserve it. They converged on my father’s small church prepared to prove once and for all that Sister was not as she seemed. Father suddenly found himself in the awkward position of being both Pastor to the haters and loving father of Sister who he adored. I sat close to father. He asked for love and peace to prevail in the meeting. Unfortunately, love was loudly absent. One by one, they took turns while mother sat silent holding Sister’s hand. “What seems to be the problem?” Father asked the first accuser. “Has my daughter done something wrong? Has she harmed you in any way?” “Well, I wouldn’t call it harm exactly.” said the hater. “ What then?” He gently pressed not yet understanding. “For one thing she is stuck
INSPIRATION
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