at the end of class

I teach one evening class--Listening Practice for two hours on Monday nights.

At the end of class tonight, I was calling roll.  Last-last week I gave a quiz and used the quiz to take roll.  Last week, I returned the quiz and used it, plus my powers of observation, to take roll.

So, tonight I called roll for the first time in two weeks . . .   

Me: "Ken, here.  LiLi, here.  Ben, here. Jerry?"

Students (in Chinese): "He dropped."

Me as I cross out his name: "Buh-Bye Jerry.  Peggy, here.  Anna, here.  Karen?"

Students (in Chinese): "She is taking the semester off."

Me as I cross out her name: "Buh-bye, Karen. Mick, not here.  DaDa, here. Barbie?"

Students (in Chinese): "She died."

Me: "She is dead?!?"

My students then pantomimed a car accident and showed me the nonverbal Taiwanese hand gesture for death.

Me (as my heart sank deep into my stomach): "Really?!?  No one told me."

Students:  "Yes; two weeks ago."

It felt weird finishing the roll call.  It seemed so trivial compared to the news that one of my students has passed away.  Three weeks ago she sat right over there in that seat--happy, healthy, and turning in homework.  Now, gone.  I will never see her again.

I knew her ten hours at most, but still her death has impacted me.

I actually read on a fellow Christian co-workers blog about the death of a student and about her and her husband visiting a student. But, since I don't know my student's Chinese names, I didn't realize that this student she was talking about was also my student.  I am thankful that Teresa and Mark were able to visit Barbie (小君) and pray for her before she passed away.

BUT, this does not change the fact that not once in the five weeks that she came to my classes did I tell her about Jesus.  We just had classes as normal. 

We never know who will and who will not have a tomorrow. 

O Lord, make me know my end and what is the measure of my days; let me know how fleeting I am!   Behold, you have made my days a few handbreadths, and my lifetime is as nothing before you. Surely all mankind stands as a mere breath! Selah  Surely a man goes about as a shadow!  (Psalm 39)

[God] knows us inside and out, keeps in mind that we're made of mud.
Men and women don't live very long; like wildflowers they spring up and
blossom, but a storm snuffs them out just as quickly, leaving nothing
to show they were here. (Psalm 103).

Tears trace paths down my cheeks. 

Did she know about Jesus?  Had she ever heard his name before?  Did she know that there was a God who loved her?  A God who is gracious, kind and just?   A Holy Creator God who is the Most High God?  Have I messed up royally?  Why am I here?  If I could die on my way home, I want to be doing what matters most.  I want to be home with my family with the people I love most--No, that's not right.  That's not what truly matters most.  I want to be here proclaiming Jesus to people who don't know about You.   

But how are they to call on him in whom they have not believed?  And how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard?  And how are they to hear without someone preaching? (Romans 10:14)

Oh Father, make me bold.  Open doors for Your message, so that I may proclaim the mystery of Christ clearly, as I should.  Help me to be wise in the way I act toward others; help me to make the most of every opportunity.  May my conversation be always full of grace and effective; help me know how to answer everyone.  Lord, help me to always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks me to give the reason for the hope that I have.  Oh Father, my humble plea is this: please make me bold.

Pray also for me, that whenever I open my mouth, words may be given me
so that I will fearlessly make known the mystery of the gospel . . .
Pray that I may declare it fearlessly, as I should. (Ephesians 6: 19,
20)