Today we're taking a journey back a couple of years ago to when I officially retired from fulltime teaching. A bunch of my faculty colleagues wanted to get together for an informal Q & A session with me to pick my brain about any topic they were curious about. I gladly agreed to do it. I recall one particularly interesting question. It went something like this: "Dave, you've had a pretty prolific writing career. How did you manage to publish so many books in view of a heavy teaching load and travel schedule, not to mention the farming you do?" Well, "prolific" is a subjective term I guess. I know of other New Testament professors whose publishing records far exceed mine. Be that as it may, I said something like this in response: "I think the Lord enabled me to write the books I did largely because I had my priorities right as a teacher. My office door was never closed unless I already had a student meeting with me." I added, "The students were always my top priority, not my publishing. They did not exist for me. I existed for them. They did not exist to make my life easier. I existed to make theirs easier. In fact, they were the very reason our school even existed. So my door was always open. I never felt I had to zealously guard my writing time. I never considered a visit from a student as an interruption. It was a divinely arranged encounter meant for their growth and benefit. And the amazing thing was, I never once lacked time to write, nor did I ever miss a publisher's deadline."
I think this is so important. The only way the person who doesn't know you can read you is from face to face time with you. Do they see "Welcome, come on in" or do they see "Stay away"? I think one of the most attractive things about Jesus was his availability. I believe he transformed those twelve to begin with largely by winning them to himself. Why else would they have left their occupations behind? You see, in those days the religious leaders were standoffish. They could care less about the am ha-aretz -- the so-called "people of the land," meaning the riffraff of society. Their bony fingers were long as they poked them against people's sternums. You and I live in a world surrounded by Pharisees. That's exactly what made Jesus' ministry so winsome and attractive. Regular people weren't turned off by him. John, in fact, says that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us. And we beheld his glory, full of -- get this -- grace and truth. Not just truth. But grace and truth. Not just a lecture. But a life.
When I was a student at Biola and Talbot, I didn't see many office doors that were open. The professors were good, godly men. But their closed doors said, "Stay away." And those whose doors said "Come in," I did just that. We became close and even became friends in some instances after I joined the faculty. Remember, at the incarnation Deity became a human being. God stooped to be with us. John ate with him. Slept beside him. Watched him. Studied him. Observed him -- full of grace and truth. What a balanced combination. What a magnificent model. No one ever drew others into his life like he did.
In short, that day I encouraged my friends to connect with their students. To embrace a life of availability and then to demonstrate it. Pour out your love to others whom you serve. I'm not saying you never put up legitimate boundaries. And yes, you have responsibilities. Nor will I have the audacity to think that you've got to live just like I live in order to be pleasing to Christ as a teacher. All I know is that a gracious professor is absolutely contagious. That's the message of grace. That's the gift of friendship and the beauty of sharing our lives with our students. I truly believe that the more you grow in grace, the more effective a writer you will be. You'll be discerning, but you will not be possessive.