It’s a Friday and my assignment is a class of 9 five-year-olds. Our mission: Memorize Newton’s First Law of Motion,
It’s a lot for them. They won’t truly memorize it this year, but at 5 years old it’s about exposure. As they grow, we will return to this law and watch it get bigger in depth and meaning. But really, any child who knows the song, “On Top of Spaghetti,” unconsciously knows this Law of Motion. That meatball sits pretty atop its pile of pasta until a sneeze makes it roll. It then continues to roll until something stops it.
Coaching these wiggly worms in memorizing this “dry fact” of Science while singing a song, I suddenly see something they don’t. I pause the song and say,
“Kids, this is about our hearts! My heart, and yours need God to change it!”
To myself I realize, “We think we’re learning about meatballs sneezed off center, soccer balls kicked into flight, and satellites floating endlessly in space, but all of these things point to more. This law is not only about physical matter. It’s the law that my heart will not move, or be still, without an outside force, sometimes gentle, sometimes not so, stirring me to do or not do, think or not think, love or not love.”
My little ones are unaware of, and unimpressed by, the explosion of light that’s just entered my eyes. It’s no joke that the teacher often learns more than the students. Is that a law too? I’m standing in a divine moment, worshipping overjoyed to be teaching this deep science I never thought I was interested in.
And I love the law for simply stating what is. It tells me what I am and what I do and points me to that outside force that I see, over decades of progressive understanding, is a loving and unfailing force. I pray silent for my little ones anxious for snack time,
“May the “Force” be with you, and may He move strong in your hearts.”
Ephesians 2:1, 4-5a