Mark Callender

My mother and father were Southern California hippies who thankfully fell in with the “Jesus Movement” of that era and not the other abysmal movements of that generation.  And while my early years were filled with the music of Peter, Paul, and Mary, and of course, Keith Green, there was another music in my ear that was more appealing, the sound of marching bands, huey helicopters, and distant artillery.  For before my father’s conversion he was a soldier, and our family was settled at Fort Lewis.  As so many Christian mothers before her, my mother wept over my soul.  She was troubled by my fascination with soldiery and believed that unless she intervened, I would develop a violent, ungodly, nature.  Thus she determined to shield me from the military world as much as possible.  That meant homeschooling, after all every child at school had one thing in common and one topic of thought and play, war!  So, at the end of my second grade year my dear mother undertook a task, which at the time was considered anathema, she without any professional education, would teach her son from home.
     As I reflect upon her decision now, entering my mid–thirties, I am so very grateful for her decision.  Of course her desire to shield me from stories of war, playing war, learning and studying great battles, was a dismal failure, but her larger goal was met.  My character was intimately shaped by a woman who loved her Savior and daily carried her cross, following behind her Lord.  I am the beneficiary of her thought; for under her guidance, I developed a love for old books, great leaders of war, and the great leaders of the church.  I learned what “Christo et Ecclesia” meant to the men who penned the phrase.  I read the biographies of Mather, Edwards, and Henry; their words were burned into my memory, and their ideas became the playground for my imagination.  I was given by her a love for learning and a love for teaching.  Of course along with my mother’s talents, I have her weaknesses.  I am no mathematician; I remain somewhat sheltered and withdrawn at times and perhaps given to the sentimental.  I tend to miss great cultural events of our time, remembering instead the great cultural events of the irrelevant past.  Complex bureaucracies and paperwork, like the DMV, the mall, and the doctor’s office, puzzle me.  But God has lovingly provided me with a helpmate to minister to my weaknesses. 
     My wife and I have been blessed with four boys.  Homeschooling them has been a great joy for us both.  Each time I see my wife running through their phonograms, instructing them in forming their letters, or sitting on the couch painfully listening to their reading, I thank my mother.  And like she did for me, I utter a silent prayer for their souls, that they may love old books, learn from the great men of the past, and most importantly, to follow after their Savior, carrying their cross.
     Having taught now publicly and privately for several years, I delight when I see a child’s eyes light up at a new discovery or a lesson mastered.  I beam with pride when I see children struggle through a difficult concept and emerge victorious.  Yet, I am convinced there is no greater lesson or concept that a child can learn than that they are a sinner in need of a Savior.  And when, as a parent or teacher you see that lesson learned, your heart leaps for joy.  Even more so because you realize as a teacher it is the one lesson you cannot teach for it is the work of God’s Spirit, and we are all students.