Community Post: No More Beanbag Living

In a one room, white schoolhouse across the street from Bishop Baraga Catholic Church, six-year-old me scribbled the bonus word, “elephant,” on a spelling test.

My correct spelling of the word was a complete accident. I pulled the ‘ol make-your-handwriting-as messy-as-possible-and-maybe-what-you write-will-resemble-the-correct-answer trick.

My teacher, Mrs. Macintosh, deemed me gifted.

I gushed. What an honor, what a privilege, or in my case, what luck.

Gifted students were a part of an elite group called “Ben’s Group.” Ben’s Group consisted of myself and two other members: runny-nosed Tommy who remained sick and absent the majority of the year, and Ben.

I showed up to Ben’s Group overly eager with an ultra sharp pencil. I gobbled-up word studies. I consumed multi-page packets. I dominated fluency tests. I embraced learning.

My excitement for Ben’s Group stayed strong for weeks, but one day, I didn’t feel like working. I half-heartedly participated in a reading activity and then claimed to have symptoms similar to Tommy’s recent illness.

Mrs. Macintosh sent me to the back of the room where I sat in a blue beanbag and repeatedly stabbed the beanbag with my ultra sharp pencil. Looking around the classroom, I realized I was trying entirely too hard at the Ben’s Group thing.

A new routine was born. The routine included more fake illnesses, beanbag stabbing, a fair amount of digging Styrofoam balls from the beanbag chair, and a healthy dose of flicking the small Styrofoam balls around the classroom.

Mrs. Macintosh tired of my lack of effort. She revoked my gifted label and demoted me from Ben’s Group status.

I didn’t care. Ben’s Group meant work, and work took so much--what’s the word? Oh yes, effort.

About a month ago, I realized my time in church was beginning to resemble my time in Ben’s Group.

I used to arrive at church with empty journal and pen in hand. I took pages of notes and dove into any Scripture reference. Throughout the week, I’d study my notes, look up the Scripture, and bring up what I learned in conversations.

I felt close to God and connected with my church community, but actively engaging takes so much--what’s the word again? Oh yes, effort.

In church, I moved from an eager attitude to an “I’m-here-and I-want-to-be-inspired” attitude. I showed up but didn’t try. Thirty-eight year old me plopped myself in the same beanbag I sat in years ago (only now it was called a church pew).

Recently, I stood among a group of people in the store, and I noticed misfits abound, including me. I thought of God’s routine, the one in which he woos us with the same story, His story, day after day.

He never gives up or quits trying.

He never threatens to remove our label or demote us. He rejects the idea that some of us are too far-gone or too difficult. God refuses to sit in the back of the room when He gets bored.

Even when mankind loses its luster, God rejects beanbag living, and I am encouraged to do the same.

Moving Beyond Mediocrity

This article is part of our series, Moving Beyond Mediocrity. How often in your daily life do you think, “I wish I could do better”? It’s the feeling you get when you realize you aren’t really trying. Your job, your family, even your hobbies: they are worth working harder. But what does it take to move beyond mediocrity? How do you quit using your education, your upbringing, your circumstances, even your faith, as an excuse to keep you from doing your best? Join us as we discuss giving it our all in our workplaces and our homes, in our communities and our churches, for the common good and for the glory of God. Also, consider inviting others to join you by sharing these stories via email, Facebook, Twitter, or networks you are part of.