Years ago a Sunday-school teacher, looking at one of her pupils, asked him a question. “I see you’ve had a haircut. Did your father put a bowl on your head?” Both the words she spoke and the tone of her voice had their effect—permanently. I was the boy. I cannot remember anything else she ever said. She had cut me off from her ministry forever. She was a memorable teacher, certainly, but for very wrong reasons.
When I think of good teachers, two examples come first to mind. One is Jesus, the master teacher. The other is Mark Hopkins, president of Williams College in the mid-nineteenth century, who was described in the well-known tribute by James Garfield as “a true teacher” (“Give me a log hut, with only a simple bench, Mark Hopkins on one end and I on the other, and you may have all the buildings, apparatus and libraries without him”). Neither of these teachers taught in an air-conditioned room equipped with blackboards and film projectors and tape recorders. Useful as such things are, it is the teacher, not the teaching aids, that really counts.
There are generally three places where pupils and teachers come together: the home, the school, and the church. Virtually everyone is at some point a teacher, and all are at some point students. Most people never teach in a school or a church. But most people become parents, and as such they are teachers. How can they be more like Hopkins, an opener of minds, than like my Sunday-school teacher, a closer of minds?
Many years ago John R. Mott in a book on missions laid down four cardinal principles of preaching. They are equally applicable to teaching.
1. The teacher must lay before the student the principle that he or she wishes to communicate. It might be the proposition that God is love; that as a person sows, so shall he reap; that God is sovereign in human affairs; that salvation is by faith alone. No one can teach effectively unless he is certain of what truth he wishes to present. But it is not enough for the teacher to know decisively what he wants to say if he fails to make it clear to the students.
2. The principle must be shown to be true by the presentation of supporting facts. How do we know, for example, that God loves us? Some supporting facts are: that God sent his only Son in the incarnation (Gal. 4:4, 5); that Jesus died to save sinners (Rom. 5:6, 8, 10); that God offers salvation freely by faith apart from works (Eph. 2:8–10); that God provides for the spiritual and material needs of his children (Phil. 4:19). Indeed, we can know from Scripture that God does love us.
The sovereignty of God can be illustrated in a great number of ways. One can use examples from our own times, such as Corrie ten Boom’s story A Prisoner and Yet …, which tells how a sovereign God preserved her amid the torment of Hitler’s concentration camps. In the Old Testament God sovereignly delivered the Israelites from Egypt; he slew 185,000 Assyrian soldiers in response to King Hezekiah’s prayer (2 Kings 19); he delivered the Jews from death when Haman plotted their extermination (Esther 3). In the New Testament God sovereignly delivered Peter from prison (Acts 12) and Paul from the Philippian jail (Acts 16:19–40). A supreme example of God’s sovereignty was the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead (1 Cor. 15:4; Acts 10:40; Eph. 1:20).
3. Once the principle has been stated and the supporting facts have been presented, the listener must be informed of his duty. Some kind of response is expected of the hearer as a result of the teaching. If God is love and Jesus died for the sinner, the sinner ought to repent and receive Christ as Saviour. If God is sovereign, the believer is called to a life of submission as well as the acceptance of God’s will. If what is reaped depends upon what is sown, then the Christian should sow only what will produce a good, not a bad, harvest.
4. The fourth principle is that the teacher should inspire the student to act in accordance with what he has just been taught. This means that an appeal must be made to the will. A decision is called for. Those who teach without pressing for a decision have failed to fulfill their function and have lost an opportunity. If someone is selling a radio or a rug and a prospective buyer does not respond because he is not asked to do so, the consequences are hardly lamentable. But if what is being offered is eternal life, failure to press for a decision can have an effect not only in this life but also in the life that is to come.
Joshua’s last sermon, recorded in Joshua 24, illustrates the four principles beautifully. The basic proposition is that Jehovah God is Israel’s deliverer. Joshua recounts the numerous deliverances that support this proposition. Then he informs his hearers of their duty: they are to “fear the Lord, and serve him in sincerity and faithfulness,” and “put away the gods which their fathers served beyond the River, and in Egypt.” Then Joshua demands a decision: “Choose this day whom you will serve.” The sermon was effective, for the people responded: “We also serve the LORD, for he is our God.” Elijah, too, demanded a decision from the people of his generation. In his contest with Ahab and the priests of Baal atop Mount Carmel, he asked a question and demanded a response. “How long will you go limping with two different opinions? If the LORD is God follow him; but if Baal, then follow him” (1 Kings 18:21). When God’s fire fell from heaven and consumed the animal sacrifice, the people shouted, “The LORD, he is God.” They seized the priests of Baal, whom Elijah then killed.
For the teacher to know what to teach is one thing; knowing how to do it is another. Pedagogy, the art of teaching, uses the principles of human psychology. Some Christians are suspicious of “psychology”; they think of it as almost a kind of black art, a devious scheme used to manipulate people against their will, or a form of brainwashing. In part this suspicion probably results from an awareness of the highly developed manipulative skills of the advertising media. But psychology itself is morally neutral; only its abuse is wrong. And, of course, those who claim to reject the use of “psychology” are likely to be in the position of Moliere’s character, who, when he learned what “prose” was, was astonished to realize that he had been speaking it all his life. From early childhood everyone has principles of psychology used on him and he in turn uses them on others. Young children learn, for instance, how to get what they want from mama and papa, whether by staging a temper tantrum, being cute and winsome, or whining and being unbearable.
Psychology is the study of how the mind functions. It deals with traits, feelings, actions, and the attributes of the mind. As every teacher knows, some students have closed minds; they are hard to reach. Their minds are screened with a fine grid that is difficult to penetrate. Others have a large grid. Everything goes in; almost everything goes out. Teachers, too, have either open or closed minds. The teacher whose mind is closed finds it hard to tolerate those who differ from him; he feels hostile toward those who question his views or disagree with them. The closed mind never lacks for convictions, and if some of these convictions are wrong, they are no less vigorously held. Such a mind does not consider alternatives attractive. At the other extreme is the mind so open that it has no convictions, no absolutes, no standards. The ideal teacher and the ideal pupil are the ones with a medium grid through which ideas can be filtered and tested and reasoned choices made.
People vary greatly, and although changes do take place, most people remain fairly constant in personality through the years. Even conversion does not usually modify the basic personality structure. Paul was an intense person, driving, strongly opinionated, crusading, persevering. He was this kind of person before and after he came to Christ. The Apostle Peter, too, was much the same in personality after his conversion as he was before. Both Peter and Paul, very different in personality, were useful in the ministry to which God called them, and God used them for his own glory.
Personality differences are reflected in the styles of worship people choose—liturgical or non-liturgical, formal or informal, in cathedrals or in halls and homes. Some prefer an intellectual approach to the faith; others find a more emotional framework more conducive to worship. Some knowledge of psychology can help the teacher reach the pupil where he is. The teacher who wishes to convince his pupils of certain Christian principles must bear out those principles in his own life. If he wishes to teach that materialism is wrong, he must be sure that he himself is not a materialist. If he sets his affection on things below, his teaching will lose its effect.
The teacher who is eager to talk but unwilling to listen will turn students off. Pupils’ opinions should be respected and dealt with understandingly; their questions should be answered responsibly. Lack of love for others, egocentricity, selfishness, superciliousness—these all are shortcomings that impair teaching effectiveness. So are such practices as nagging, cutting people down, downgrading them, and failing to praise when praise is merited.
Jesus repeatedly drew attention to the Pharisees, whose life style made them bad teachers and bad examples. They majored on minors and tried to make absolute what God had made relative. They objected to Jesus’ healing on the sabbath (see Luke 6:6 ff.) because they said it was work and therefore a violation of the sabbath command to rest. They measured the distance of a sabbath day’s journey (see Acts 1:12, the scribes and Pharisees defined it as about 1,000 yards) and forbade anyone from taking another step after that limit had been reached. They required an outward washing of hands (see Luke 11:37 ff.) but forgot the washing of the heart. Standards are necessary, but there are right and wrong ways of trying to teach them. How the standards are presented and what the attitude is toward those who disagree makes a great deal of difference.
Howard Kuist in his now out of print book The Pedagogy of St. Paul analyzes the “how” of the Apostle’s teaching. Paul appealed to the intellect, to the feelings, and to the will. A look at his ways of doing this can be helpful to those who engage in the ministry of teaching.
In appealing to the intellect Paul first sought to gain the attention of the prospective listeners. He exhibited enthusiasm, frankness, courage, zeal, poise, sympathy, and personal radiance. He mingled freely with the people he sought to reach and never hesitated to call directly for their attention to what he wished to say. His writings are punctuated with attention-getting phrases such as “hearken,” “beware,” “behold,” and “my little children.” He varied his physical positions: sometimes he stood; at other times he sat. Whether sitting or standing he used gestures. Sometimes he beckoned with his hand, or stretched out his hand. He used dramatic action—such as tearing garments—that was certain to provoke interest. He excited people’s curiosity to gain their attention; on occasion he even performed miracles, a sure attention-getter.
Paul made appeals to memory, asking the listener to recall to mind things he knew about but might have forgotten (see Eph. 2:11, 2 Tim. 2:8). Old and established facts can be used to open the door for the presentation of new ones or for new interpretations (e.g., Rom. 4). Paul’s vivid descriptions of previous events stimulated his hearers (e.g., Acts 13:16 ff.). He appealed to memory to create interest and sympathy. He used it to generate listeners’ confidence in him and to establish prestige (see Acts 27:10, 21, 42–44). He called for a hearty response to his teaching on the basis of memory, saying, “Be imitators of me” (1 Cor. 11:1). He even used memory to unite the common interests of a group whose members could not get along with one another (see Phil. 1:3–5, 27; 2:4; 4:2, 3). He instructed young Timothy to appeal to memory on the part of his hearers as a matter of good pedagogy (1 Tim. 4:6, 2 Tim. 2:8–14).
CHMSTOGRAPHIA XXX
Depictions of sorrow on a cathode tube
Pale traces of light pulsing with heartbeat
Sine waves limning a crisis of muscle
(Listen for the respirator’s suck)
Twice in the night the nurse opens a valve
Glass teats trickle sugarwater & blood
Between the sheets’ aseptic crease
The patient lingers, tasting gauze
The pastor’s nervous prayer scatters upward
The plasma sinks from flask to vein
The monitors gleam with monotone chirp
The patient curls his tongue for a last word
As electrons flow to a still horizon
The gate of sorrow opens to the Lord
EUGENE WARREN
The Apostle effectively appealed to the feelings also. In his speeches and his writings he used vivid descriptions, worked up to fervid climaxes (e.g. Eph. 6:10 ff.), asked pointed questions (e.g., Acts 22:25; 1 Cor. 9), gave grave warnings (e.g., Gal. 5:2 ff.), spoke with sympathy, called people by endearing names (Rom. 16:8), and employed reverent benedictions (Rom. 16:25–27). His ardent exclamations, his worshipful thanksgiving for people, and his obvious affection for those he addressed (e.g., 2 Tim. 1:3 ff.) were emotional appeals that may well have brought tears to the receivers’ eyes.
Paul did not stop with appeals to the intellect and to the affections; he demanded a response from those he addressed. He always appealed to the will. He expected a decision and he pressed for one. In Romans, for example, he urges his readers to present their bodies as a living sacrifice and asked them not to be conformed to the world but to have renewed minds (12:1, 2). In Philippians he urges believers “to think on these things” (4:8). In Ephesians he asks the Christians to pray always (6:18), to stand fast (6:14), to honor fathers and mothers (6:2), and to put on the whole armor of God (6:10 ff.). In Colossians he appeals for believers to seek those things that are above and to shun those things that are evil (3:1 ff.). In First Thessalonians he warns the Christians not to quench the Spirit (5:19), to prove all things (5:21), and to be sure that the epistle is read to all the brethren (5:27). Appeals like these called for a response, for an act of will, a decision.
The Christian teacher in and of himself cannot bring people to a decision. Everywhere Scripture teaches that while God works through the secondary means of men and women, the first means is the Holy Spirit. When the secondary agents have done their work, the results depend on the work of the Holy Spirit, who convicts of sin and of righteousness and of judgment, regenerates, gives the gift of faith, enlightens the mind, gives dynamic to the word that is spoken or written, emboldens speakers, and touches their lips with coals from the altar.
Yet the work of the Spirit does not make the work of the teacher unimportant. The teacher should work to improve his teaching skills. A helpful start is for the teacher to tape some of his actual lessons and then listen to them critically. The teacher who wants to be a better one needs to study his own performance and study human psychology as well as studying the subject he is teaching. Chaucer said of one of his pilgrims in The Canterbury Tales, “And gladly would he learn, and gladly teach.” It is an effective combination.
