God's Pattern in Life's Pieces

I watched with interest as construction crews transformed a quiet corner into a brick icon. Sitting on the edge of an expanding Aurora, Colorado neighborhood, tax dollars became classrooms.

It wasn’t until the project was completed that I fully understand the vision for the project… a Cherry Creek School District Middle School. It was expansive, attractive, and perched on a hill overlooking the neighborhood it would serve.

Then, with the pent-up mystery of a gender reveal party, the name of the school was unveiled…

But first, let me digress. Quite honestly, after I realized that it was a middle school being constructed, I flashed back to my middle school experience… except in the late 60’s they called them Junior High Schools. The name of my school was Edison Junior High… on the south side of Wheaton, Illinois. The Panthers.

Frankly, my palms began to sweat, even as I typed the name of the school. It was roughly a half mile walk from our home at the corner of Main and Park to 1125 S. Wheaton Avenue, but it wasn’t the walk that elevated my heart rate… it was the fact that as an eleven-year-old, I was anything but ready for Junior High. Add to this, the fact that I fancied myself as a potential basketball player on the proud Panther squad, but alas, my stature betrayed me, and my jump shot escaped me… and so, on the final cut for the team, I succumbed to the reality… and subsequently joined the wrestling team.

This seemed ideal since the lowest weight class for a seventh grader was 70 pounds, and this aligned with the data that was revealed when I stepped on the scale.

While most of my classmates were putting their ID bracelets on the wrists of young ladies, I was eating three sandwiches for lunch in an attempt to alter my identity.

The facts remain that Edison Junior High was a bit nightmarish for me. Two years of realizing that I was very, very different than most. Two years of feeling significantly out of the social mainstream. Two years of sweaty palms and a lump in my throat.

So now, perhaps this context will help you understand just why, when the beautiful new middle school in our community was completed, and the name was revealed, I felt a sense of horror. Disbelief. Like a twisted jolt from an episode of the Twilight Zone… yes, the name of the new school in Aurora, Colorado is Infinity Middle School. Yes, infinity, like never ending, never completing, never escaping… middle school.

Infinity. The Vipers. But in the mind of a man who still very much remembers the crushed ego and undefined identity at Edison, Infinity is an unfortunate and fear-inducing reminder and nightmare. Trapped, and not just for two years, but for eternity.

And I ask… what were they thinking?

A name. The name. A reminder of who we were and what we are.

In the story line of Jesus… names and labels were powerful and impactful in more lasting and damning ways. The names and labels of cities or regions or people. Identities shaped by seemingly inescapable reputations…

Sinners
Tax Collectors
Shepherds
Harlots
Lepers
Sightless
Speechless
Lame
Unclean…

Enter Jesus… enter a redefined identity… a new name.

Beloved
Daughter
Son
Clean
Forgiven
Blessed
Family

Rescued. Redeemed.

My destiny reborn. My sweaty palms in the hand of my Savior…

Whether an underdeveloped seventh grader, or a sixty-four-year-old grandpa… Jesus redefines Infinity.

Bless Him. Praise Him.

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