It is hard to know what exactly can be said, and so this post will not be the linear sort of writing I normally prefer to do. So I will do the best I can. The phrase itself was originally written “The Journey To Jankiness,” but after the morning I had, which was a terrible morning, a fellow teacher changed it to the “The Journey Out Of Jankiness” because it was a more hopeful and optimistic title. I happen to agree, even if I’m generally a fairly pessimistic person by nature. But without a doubt, today was a day about jankiness, so much so that I felt the need to talk about with my fellow teachers.

I wonder at what point I became a father. I feel somewhat like a parent to the children I teach. By and large they are good kids with dreams and hopes of a better life and sometimes difficult lives. They have crushes and act a bit young, but deep down I think highly of them. If my job tends to make me a bit of a bad guy in the eyes of the students (something that my fellow teachers and I had to talk a lot about this morning as we all ranted about communication problems with each other), I do deeply care about them and think rather highly of most of them. Most of them remind me a bit of myself, slightly mischievous and amorous young people who love learning, enjoy friendly company, and want a better future. What’s not to like about that?

But I feel rather awkward and uncomfortable about it for a variety of reasons. I wonder when I became wise enough to carry such a burden. Thankfully I do not have to carry such a burden alone. It so happens that I am very pleased with the people who I work with here at the school. All of the other teachers are really great people, and I feel I can trust them all and consult with them all about matters of mutual interest, even if I’m not a perfect person in my own conduct and conversation. I have even asked all of them to hold me accountable to behaving the right way myself, and all of them have been quite willing both to speak about their frustrations and listen patiently to mine.

And quite frankly, if it were not for such wonderful students and such amazing teachers, it would be very isolated here. The last year or so I have been a middle manager of sorts, and I recognize that life would be much easier if people could apply God’s ways. Why is it so hard to be a servant leader, and why is it so easy to rule as the Gentiles do? The problem appears to be trust. If you can trust people to do the right thing, or to be respectful of you, you feel more free to be open with them, and are less dictatorial. Bullying and rebellion, tyranny and anarchy, both spring from fear. Libertarians fear their government (with reason) and tyrants fear their people (also with reason). But perfect love casts out fear on all sides.

There is a way out of jankiness, but it’s not an easy way. The reason our institutions are broken is because we are broken. If we do not trust others on some level, we will be bullies and tyrants because we will not respect their boundaries or value their input. So long as we are paranoid and suspicious, we cannot help but become the sorts of bullies and tyrants over others that we hate so much. And we will create other people who have the same sorts of hurts we do, and who will repeat our example to others, unless they are willing to be repaired. That is the goal–not being comfortable in our brokenness but in finding wholeness, no matter how difficult or awkward or uncomfortable that may be.

I suppose it is no wonder that everything around us is broken. But it is a wonderful thing that every day, when I think about or talk to my fellow teachers or our students, I think that we broken people will be so awesome and amazing when we are put back together whole that I am willing to struggle with the frustration and anxiety and wrestle openly with the insecurity in the hope that maybe someday I will be so awesome and amazing myself, able to enjoy what it is that God has put me on this earth to do.