Then Levi held a great banquet for Jesus at his house, and a large crowd of tax collectors and others were eating with them. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law who belonged to their sect complained to his disciples, “Why do you eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?” Jesus answered them, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” Luke 5:29-32, NIV

He’s a drug baby: dad’s not in the picture, and mom still isn’t clean. 

Lives in split custody with his grandparents, who are divorced. 

With his mom, he was homeless–living under bridges and in abandoned buses with his siblings.

He didn’t speak at all until kindergarten.

Now he’s in 9th grade, with a 3rd-grade reading level. 

We’re sorry he’s on your roster.

These were my colleague’s words to me as she described “James,” a student on my roster for the new semester. I had seen him around school: a 14-year-old boy who was man-height, with dark shoulder-length hair, piercing blue eyes, and a stony expression that wouldn’t crack a smile for the world. Good luck, they told me. We don’t expect him to pass.

My heart was pierced for this boy as I imagined the trauma he’d been through. I decided that my goal for this student was not going to be passing my class. My goal would be for him to know that he was special and loved and to show him the love of Christ. I saw God placing the needy in my classroom as an assignment to pray for these children and to show them His love, even if I couldn’t quite phrase it that way openly.

“Don’t apologize,” I said to my colleague. “I think God put him here on purpose.” 

I sat him right in the front next to me. Most days, he put his head down. Many times, he would play on his phone. I tried to connect with him by asking him about his favorite topics and giving him alternate assignments—anything to get him to engage. His engagement was fleeting, and his grades were, as predicted, failing. 

But I saw small victories: while he acted up and cussed out other teachers, he didn’t do that in my class. The stoic expression on his face changed, and he would engage me in friendly conversation in the hallways or during downtime in class. One day, toward the end of the semester, he was in the hallway talking to another student. When he noticed me nearby, he pointed me out to the other kid and said, “THIS lady doesn’t hate me!” 

While this may seem like a pretty low bar to hit normally, in his own way, he told me that I had reached my goal. Whatever disdain he picked up on from other adults, he didn’t feel from me. A kid who hadn’t been shown much love by most people felt something different from me—the spirit of Christ’s love that I tried to exhibit toward him.

Jesus had a habit of going toward the “undesirables” in society: lepers, tax collectors, the lame and sick, the demon-possessed. In fact, He went out of his way more than once to seek them out. Jesus drew near on purpose to those whom others shunned and ran from—and this radical, counter-cultural kind of love changed their lives.

Educators, I encourage you to show the love of Christ to your hardest-to-love students…because they are the ones who need it the most. And you never can tell when an encounter with radical, Christ-like love will change a life.  

God, thank You for Your divine providence in the individual students You put on our rosters each year. Thank You for the privilege of knowing by name these children You’ve created and giving us a chance to speak seeds of truth into and over them. Please help us to remember that when we love those who are hard to love, we represent You well. Fill us with Your Holy Spirit anew each day to enable us to do this. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.

Copyright Rhapsody Jordan-Parisi. 

Rhapsody is a Christian Educators member and high school English teacher from North Carolina. She is passionate about helping overwhelmed teachers reclaim their time and peace of mind through support, encouragement, and intentional strategies. You can connect with her at tightropeteaching.com.